"Let’s get going, we’re gunna be late for our first day."

His back arches forward as he checks his backpack of all the necessities needed for school. The sun gathers down it’s light to beam down on their window, shining on a distinct angle of the teenager’s features. His fair skin gleams the room, hair a lighter brown from the sunlight, eyes as forever gracious as always. He’s been born beautiful from the start to the unfinished, and it’ll never end to the infinite.

The girl next to him rests her head against the cold wooden table, groaning up to gulp down her almost quenched water bottle. She drenches down her thirst and glares at her friend, scratch that, by now it’s brother.

A dry piece of toast plates in front of them, but no one touches it. The strong smell of burnt bread smothers the kitchen next to their living room, and perhaps that’s what replaces their hunger for actual food. The ancient girl, young of appearance, grudges herself down her bedroom for a change of a collared sweater and a pick of tie-dye pants, an infamous trademark of hers. She returns back to the living room only to find loud honks outside of the garage lot.

"Why are you in a rush? At the time we’re leaving, we’re gunna be thirty minutes early." In the midst of haste, she bumps her head against the car ceiling and rubs her head in pain. A smirk exposes from her brother’s face and she pouts as she closes the side door.

"I want to get some breakfast."

"But…I made it already."

He raises one of his eyebrows. "You mean that crappy ash thing?"

She chuckles at what he points out and asks him where they’re eating, although all questions are ceased when they reach their destination.

The café’s a comforter, with the right tinge of lighting, though there’s no need with the brightness showering down from the sun. There’s always that distinct aroma from the very first step when walked in, one topped with the mounting sweet pastries, accessorize with the grounding fluff of nature’s coffee beans. It’s a drug your nose can’t resist.

The café’s a family business and one of their waiters greets them to a table near the back.

Walls are toppled with pictures of their extravagant variety of breads—scandalous to a human’s stomach. The patisserie’s one of the finest in this city, the mix of modernization and olden days, and it’s a surprise that it isn’t as popular as it should be credited with.

Like a gentleman he supposedly is, the brother orders for the two of them, requesting for desert names that the sister can’t bare to roll out of her tongue. Even menus of French style breads like Éclair au Chocolat, Choux, Tarte Framboise, Caramel Millefeuille, and L'Orizaba are spoken and yet the only one she can make out with familiarization is macaroon. The waitress comes back with a stupendously enormous box, almost too big to carry with her two hands and she smiles in question if there’s a party they’re giving this to. The siblings share a mutual look and shake their heads, "No, these are for us." In which the worker replies with a nod, saying that they need to fatten their skinny bodies anyway.

"This is so much better than your stale toast."

"Whatever. They’ll just make you fat."

"Then we’ll have millions of years to burn it off. Duh."

"Hey, what grade am I in again?"

"I enrolled you in your second year, you’re going to be in eleventh grade. I’ll be in the last year, twelfth." The older one responds with his eyes intent on the road.

"And how old am I then?" After a millennium, you’d think someone would learn to keep track of his or her age, to catch on with the makings of the Korean curriculum and age system. But that’s too many numbers for the immortal to grieve on. And why break a heart that’s already broken?

"You’re now sixteen. I’m seventeen. This is a new school. So come on, let’s make a fresh start. Try to at least be nice to others. That means no biting." He bolds the tone of his voice on the last sentence, a reminder of what happened with the previous schools they enrolled in.

"Don’t treat me like a pet. You’re only three months older. And that reminds me, we should celebrate today. Which means no school."

"What do we need to celebrate?"

"See, I keep track of some stuff. It’s our anniversary of that day. This year we’ll be one thousand and six years old." She doesn’t say this with excitement, not even a tinge of anything regarding how special this is or rather isn’t. Her voice burns with a fatal blandness, and there’s no way anyone can say it with as much boredom and sarcasm as her.

"I see. Well, I already told the principal at that school that we’d be attending class today." He shrugs, obviously uncomfortable with the subject matter. The girl doesn’t push any further with the conversation, and the two allow the radio music to fill up the silence.

A couple minutes later they arrive at the premises, their pupils scanning and taking in the school in front of them. The theme of the foundation is oddly promising—areas ambushed with cherry blossom trees, a winter sparkle of snow matched with nature’s eminence with Pyrus Pyrifolias, an easily identifiable pear tree also commonly found in Korea. The light scheme clashes with the solid green bushes, inedible dark blueberries caught here and there. Of all high schools, this one must be the top three of their list, atleast appearance wise, and with their old age, that’s quite the achievement.

And yet even with such beauty, the girl can only sigh in disdain.

"Alright, the principal office should be nearby. Are you ready?" Her brother asks, watching how still she is.

She stands for more than the time needed to answer, slowly parting her lips to speak.

"I’ve done this more than a thousand times, literally. You don’t think by now I can do this with my eyes closed?" Her voice scorns with a close reflection of loath, absolutely acceptable to her brother who knows what she’s going through.

He holds her hand to his sister’s shock, "We’re in this together."

The office is painted in a horrid spinach color, droning discipline on whoever walks in. It’s also clear of the principal’s authority, Ms. Han, what with all the certificates on the walls that show her master degrees and graduations.

Ms. Han’s rather a pencil looking sort of thing, with her best feature being her nose—straight and tall. Her hair’s a mix of dark red and brown, close to a muddy burgundy, that’s tied up in a neat ponytail. By the speculations of the siblings, she must be around her late forties.

"It’s disappointing that you weren’t able to attend the opening ceremony, otherwise we wouldn’t have to handle all this paperwork. Nonetheless, we welcome you to our foundation."

The two don’t bother to comment back, scribbling down their social information that’s needed in the curriculum. Their writing’s cease, to the two’s relief, once they’ve reached the last of the blanks and they hand it to the young assistant next to the principal whom double checks what they’ve written and nods in approval.

"Alright, looks like you two are all set! And since you’re new to this system, we’ve sent a guide for you."

The sister glances at her brother and directs her attention back to the principal. "I think we can handle it."

"Great, that’s good to hear. But he’s already gladly accepted to tour you around our academy. Have a great day." They take that as a signal to leave and go out the door.

After a few steps away from the room, the girl whispers to her brother, "Does she take us for children? I’m like nine hundred years older than her!"

"Quiet down. You know you may have aged by years, but you certainly still act like that same little girl I’ve known my whole life," He stops short in case she wants to rebel with what he’s saying. However seeing that she’s in no mood to talk he adds on, "Make sure you stay that way."

The siblings venture off the main building and wonder if the principal was fibbing about the whole tour guide nonsense, which they would be perfectly fine with. A few minutes pass by with the girl constantly checking her watch, and she throws it all together and tells her brother for them to just find their classes by themselves.

"It shouldn’t be that hard anyway. All school’s categorize similarly, and what the fuc—"

Their eyes bulge out when they see a tall, lean appearing guy standing high up a tree branch. In plenty enough time, a crowd starts building up around him, bewildered at what the heck he’s doing.

"What’s he think he’s doing. Jeez, young people these days." The boy shakes his head in disapproval.

"Pft. Probably one of those suiciders… Let’s go look!" The girl drags him by the hand, not wanting to miss any action.

"Why would you want to watch?!" He gawks at her with full on bafflement.

As they come closer to the scene, their visions perplex on a sign he’s holding, but they aren’t able to see what it says with all the people blocking their eyes. Scanning for an opening, the two decide to be aggressive and push their ways from the side.

Immediately, the impact of what they’re seeing hits them hard with a brick—a maniac carrying a sign with their names on it!

"Nayoung! Sungjong!" The crazy high scholar bellows, completely embarrassing the two in having to soon show the mob that he’s the one they’re calling for.

"Let’s just ditch him and go somewhere else, possibly far away from here. Nobody will know!" Nayoung suggests with a frenzy nod of her head. She looks back at the man crazily waving the sign all over the place and shakes her head even faster.

Unfortunately being the oldest with the carry of having to be a good role model, he shakes his head in disagreement. "No. He’s making a fool out of himself for us! We can’t let the poor man keep shaming himself like this! It’ll be in our shoulders! Do you want that for the rest of our lives?!" Sungjong’s eyes search for any recognizable expression on her face.

She turns her lips into a fine line. "…I can live with it." This causes him to roll his eyes. The sister sags her shoulders in defeat at the power of guilt. "Okay, fine fine," She squirms in annoyance and takes a little step toward the man on the tree.

Nayoung slowly whispers to him, "Hey…we’re the ones you’re looking for." She observes the features of his face, taking note of his chipmunk appearance that matches well with the idea that he may actually live in the tree he’s standing on. His hair’s in quite a neat looking style, along with the plaid vest he’s wearing that clearly implies, ‘I’m a nerd’.

The tall man plops himself down to seat on the branch, much to Nayoung’s horror, "I’m sorry! I can’t hear you! The crowds too loud!"

Her irritation gradually starts to mount and she makes an effort to raise her voice, "We’re the new stu—"

"I can’t hear you! Can you spea—"

"I’m Nayoung, and he’s Sungjong!!!" She shouts at the highest pitch of her voice box, leaving the herd around them to fall into a harsh silence. Dozens of heads turn to the direction of the girl, whom’s covering her face in outstanding degradation. Sungjong stifles a laugh when he sees how red his sister is.

"Oh! Why didn’t you say so!" Sungyeol bonks his head in understanding, and the girl immediately assumes that she won’t like him.

 With that yelled, the crowd laughs at her rage and slowly, very slowly, begins to disperse. A couple of them give looks of pity at her scene.

"Well that was a fantastic first impression of me…"

Sungyeol begins his tour as an official , a title he’s most proud of, and jots down some useless facts about the high school. Being a tad late to aboard in the education system, the siblings were detailed in to select the leftover classes available in the system. And since most of the popular genres were taken, the two had no choice but to select the remaining two courses left: performing arts and photography.

"Oh that’s perfect! I’m in photography and a couple of my friends are in performing arts, so you’re classes will be easy as cake to find. You guys are more of the artistic types huh."

Nayoung begs in inside hopes that she won’t be in the same room number as him, since she can’t even stand being around him for a moment, "It’s okay I guess…those were the only classes left when we applied…"

And so the three of them venture to the first building that contains their photography class, a tall white structure labeled ‘Building AD’. It turns out, very unfortunate to the girl, that the two do indeed share the exact class period with Sungyeol, whom was very happy with the news. Later on, they seek for a rectangular auditorium that holds the performance class and the tour goes as quick as it had come. It’s only two classes anyway, and the buildings were very short distance from one another.

"You guys wanna meet some of my friends?" Sungyeol suggests, waving hi to some of his other peers walking by them. His eyes rampage with eagerness for a chance to further his little career as a guide.

Sungjong’s the one to answer with a ‘why not’, and the cheery pal links his arms with the two newbies. They wander inside a lonely structure and go straight to the highest floor where they walk to the farthest classroom down the corner. There’s a tag that indicates ‘Room #75’. Sungyeol opens the door and they’re greeted with the eyes of five guys alertly raising their heads up at the sound of visitors.

"Hey guys, meet my little pupils. This is Sungjong and Nayoung."

The brother raises his suspicions when he catches sight of a guy with a very masculine body wearing sleeveless shirt obviously conceiving how built he is. A few introductions are exchanged and the eight of them are found in a circle.

Nayoung tilts her head in confusion when she sees a guy that resembles a bit of a hamster, making her wonder if all guys in this school look like small animals.