“Oh my God.”

“This is bad.”

“Terrifying.”

“Oh God, I don’t know what to do.”

Lee Jinki, school president extraordinaire, paces around their school office in his well-ironed uniform and shiny shoes. He’s drowning in worries and sweat, and he paces back and forth again and again, uttering profanities while rummaging for a hanky in his pant-pocket.

“I think I forgot my hanky. Taemin, where are the tissues?” He stops and faces Taemin, his best friend, sitting on a couch, all lax and carefree.

“Well that’s odd.” Taemin tips his head in curiosity, “The school president never forgets his hanky.” He announces, almost sarcastic. “What happened to good ol’ Lee  Jinki? So organized, calm and composed. I mean, during times of crisis you’d just sit on your chair and think about how to stop the war.”

“I’m not the president of South Korea, Taemin.”

“Exactly.” Taemin exclaims, “So what are you so worried about?”

Jinki stares at Taemin for a good minute; he can feel his damp hair sticking to his forehead and a drop of sweat trickling down the side of his face. He has never felt so worried, he’s always the smart and poised one, the one with a throng of gold medals and trophies at home (all collected and displayed by his proud mother), thus he was elected school president, brought by the force of students and the group of nerds.

And to fast forward his background and his whole history of presidency, Lee Jinki, Mr. School President, gave rise to peace and order in their school.

“My diary.”

“Your diary.” Taemin  repeats.

“It’s missing somewhere in the school grounds.” Jinki gulps, almost whimpering when he said missing.

“Oh my God.”

“I know, it’s terrible. Upsetting. Distressful!” Jinki has this weird habit of uttering several adjectives synonymous to his feelings.

“No. Hyung, I can’t believe you have a diary.”

“It’s more like a journal, Taemin. Don’t make it sound so school-girlish and gay.” Jinki steps forward his friend, gripping his hands on the younger’s shoulders, “Help me find it.” He pleads.

“I’m not your secretary, hyung. I have homework.”

“B-but you’re my best friend!” Jinki flails and Taemin ponders on it for a second.

“Alright, but what do I get from finding your diary? I basically know all your secrets,” The younger shrugs.

“You don’t.” Taemin scoffs at that statement.

“I’ve written stuff about my love interest, Taemin. If anyone reads that then I’m likely open to vulnerability and, of course, blackmailing!” Jinki goes back to pacing and biting his thumb, worrying about the possibilities, how it would be either in the good hands of someone―that he will surely be thankful of—or, it could be in the hands of someone who secretly deems the destruction of Lee Jinki, laughing wickedly in the dark corner of a room while holding his missing precious diary.

Or… it could be worst.

“Interesting. Who is she?” Taemin asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Jinki dismisses the topic. He gravely fears that the whole school might talk about it the next day as thoughts of his diary, being photocopied and passed on to students, and his love interest would make it as the topmost trending topic in campus.

“If you tell me who she is then I might help you.” Lee Taemin is the sweetest, most adorable, person in school; Jinki thinks he’s also an . Well, sometimes. He tells that to Taemin, and he also wrote a page about the Reasons Why Taemin is A Douche in his diary.

Taemin then blinks up at him like puppy―which is Reason #3: He uses his charms to get what he wants—and Jinki rolls his eyes at him, but he tells him nonetheless.

“Kim Junghee.”