The campus appeared just as promising as it did in the pamphlets and the websites: he was finally here: Kim Jongin rolls his eyes at the memory of his many attempts to convince his father to let him attend Yeonwoo University. Jeong Hee University just wasn't for him no matter how hard he tried. And believe me, he tried.

Even in the years he spent in high school, Jongin had never been strong in the science department. His grades were pretty average, maybe even a bit higher, but it definitely wasn't because of his Biology and Chemistry classes. Not at all. It was allt hanks to the media courses in which he had always been the top in the class. Truth be told, the boy could have passed with an easy perfect if it weren't for the damn written components. Everyone has a weak point, he always said. He had the eye for art, not the brain for words.

Classes don't start until tomorrow. His enrollment was one of those few exceptions, which explains the late scheduling of his classes. It's a Sunday, and the place was deserted. There shouldn't be many classes going on today. Who wants to take class on a weekend? Nonetheless, the office building was open for service.

"I'm just here to pick up my schedule," Jongin announces, coming up to the front desk. The elder woman standing behind the counter said no words, but only extends her arm towards the right. Following the same direction, he finds the student services area.

"Oh," he bows before turning in his path, "thank you."

Down the hall opened another turn. Another area for what looked like offices. Guidance councellors, he assumes. That wasn't necessary for today, was it?

"Picking up your schedule?" another woman, much younger than the other, calls for your attention. She must have heard you say it just a minute ago. No surprise; it was like a library in here. He nods.

"Student card, please," she opens the palm of her hand towards him for it, then heads over to the file cabinet more to the back. Her head turns from the card to the files several times as she searches for it.

"Here's the rest of the package for the newer students," she slips in the piece of paper, the only thing that you really needed from them today, into a larger paper bag. No other reason to stay here any longer. With a simple thanks and a polite goodbye, Jongin was out and gone from the building.

The sun hid beneath the overcast in the sky, making it more of an autumn day than it should be. He wasn't in any mood to be adventurous and explore the school grounds. HE would be coming back tomorrow anyway, better to spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing at home. His new home.

Forget about the idea of relaxing. There was no room for any of that at the sight of his new apartment. Unpacked boxes remained scattered all over the place. It was a challenge to get from the door to the-- pretty much anywhere else in the room. He knew he had to take care of all this crap before his classes started, but not quite yet. He'll get to that later.

The worn-out sneakers fly off as he kicks them off at the door before throwing himself on the couch. Good thing all the furniture had been taken care of. Perks of having rich parents? Totally. Even his rent wasn't a problem, as long as he stayed. The apartment wasn't anything special,, as long as it wasn't too far from the campus.

His eyes scan over to the bag he received from the office. It was a bit heavy, what could have been in there?

Pulling out its contents revealed a few pamphlets and guide booklets of the school, all of which are useless in every way. Guaranteed, no one who has ever attempted a school with these as giveaways ever took a look at them. The only things for keeps in here was a campus map and his schedule. The planner could be of use to others, but not him.

Examining the time table gets a slight smile curving on his lips. Finally, he was back to where he was meant to be. It's been a while since the media arts occupied most of his daily routine. There was never a day in Jeong Hee where he remembered being excited to attend a class. Up until now, he still wonders how he managed to stay in those medical courses with the marks he was getting. By the time the first year ended, he was ready for a call or something, but it never came. Jongin sighs, hopeful that this semester would have a different turn.

Now that he thought about it, it's been two years since he last studied photography: the third year in high school was the last. At the time, the thought of being an early graduate was such a definite yes, until he realized that there wouldn't be anything in the field of media in Jeong Hee. What else could he do, though? The poor boy was trapped in his parents' expectations. They didn't think twice about anything before throwing money at these medical schools like it was nothing. The money was paid, and his studies at Jeong Hee were set.

It wasn't so much like an "authoritative-parent-in-control" type of situation, but more towards the "being-grateful-of-the-time-and-effort-they-had-to-put-in-for-their-son's-good" scenario. He was determined to work hard to try to get into this field but it only became more and more impossible every day.

How long it took to convince the old man to let him transfer to a different field, or rather, a different school, he didn't remember. But he was here now, the explanations didn't matter anymore. You could say that Yeonwoo University had been his dream school although he didn't think much about it during the high school years. It wasn't until he actually attended Jeong Hee when he realized it.

Two boxes in the living room occupied the next hour, then another in the kitchen. He didn't need to get every box done now: just everything he needed on a regular basis. No need to dress up the apartment with the rest of hiss crap, it's not like anyone would be dropping by for a visit.

Living room: check. Kitchen: check. Bathroom (that didn't take too long. There was only so much that a boy would keep in his bathroom): check. Moving on to the bedroom.

THe sheets on the mattress were still messy from the previous night. It was sometime after two in the morning when the movers got everything in. Jeong Hee was on the other side of town and it wasn't all that easy to get everything here. Lucky for him, the box for the sheets hadn't gotten lost under the others so he ripped open the box, snatched a pillow and a blanket and crashed.

It was getting dark by the time he finished with his closet. Good thing he saved the bedroom for last, or else he would never be able to get sleep tonight. He sighs at the sight of another box waiting in the corner of the room, but thankful that it was the last one he had to take care of for the day.

The box was a bit heavier than the others, and it makes him wonder what could possibly be inside, but a smile comes to his face when the crumpled newspapers clear the opening. This box had been untouched for the past couple of years, finally he gets the chance to come back to them again. His old portfolios. Everything was in here, from his first cameras and equipment to the many photo albums that he's had with him since he first started with photography. He was never one throw things away, especially memories. That was one thing he loved about photography: capturing even the smallest moments in life. He believed in the whole. "People change, pictures don't." idea, because it was true (along with the help of minor personal experiences). People change. For the better or for words, a memory is still a memory. A memory that happened.

One by one, Jongin flipped through the pages of the albums as he pulled them out of the box. It was like going through an endless cycle of indefinite emotions that just keep coming with every photo. He managed to get some laughs through it; from remembering great memories to a what-the-hell-was-I-thinking laugh. Hey, it was still a good laugh, right?

These albums had narrated his high school life. A lot of them consisted of people he would see every single day, which most of them had already forgotten about. Sure, he had friends, but what you would call friends then were merely people of the same age group who spent a portion of their time within a few feet from him in school, with a few social gimmicks every now and them.

The last album of the pile was his collection of model shots.

Except one, he whispers, taking the book in his hands. He only had one girl model for his work, and he didn't need another. She was perfect.