He had arrived at the beginning of the semester as the new guy. But not just the new guy. He was also the popular guy at school now, even after just two weeks. The kind of guy you didn’t like because, well, he was popular. He had fangirls, and there were rumors about the fact that he was an idol overseas. You didn’t really care about the rumors. After all, why would an idol be studying in your poor little French Canadian school? Okay, poor little was a bit overdone. It was pretty big, and in the middle of Montreal, but still. It was clearly French Canadian. And he could clearly not speak French. He knew how to introduce himself but that was about it.

 

His name was Ellison Kim, or Eli Kim, as people called him, or Kim Kyoungjae, as other people called him. You settled for ‘Kim Trou-D’Cul’, because he was clearly not worth your time trying to remember his name and he wasn’t worth your time trying to give him a decent nickname either. Your English wasn’t good enough to try and find one in English, so you settled for the French version of ‘’. He was in the same program as you – graphic design, and you still wondered why the heck an idol, if the rumors were true, would be spending his time there – and all you could hear all class long were the screams of the fangirls. How stereotyped. You didn’t think it was possible before he arrived, but it seemed like it was.

 

That day, you were particularly tired because you had done homework until late, VERY late at night, and you had gotten up at five in the morning to go to school. You were NOT in the mood for annoying people screaming in your ears.

 

“Is that part of the wall taken?” a deep voice suddenly asked in a perfect American English.

 

You hadn’t heard all of it due to your enormous headphones, so you simply removed one, not looking up.

 

“Quoi?” you asked in French.

“I’m asking you if the wall next to you is taken.”

 

You looked up and immediately looked down. Crotch shot of the most annoying guy who ever existed. Great.

 

“Yes it’s taken,” you answered in English, knowing he wasn’t good enough in French to understand you if you had replied to him in this language.

“May I ask by whom?”

“Can’t you see? Clearly it’s taken by my backpack.”

“And the other side?”

“Taken too. By my lunchbox.”

 

Anything but this guy anywhere near you. He sighed softly and sat next to your lunchbox, putting his bag in front of him and bringing his knees to his torso, hugging them. You took a peek at him. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was pretty hot, with his black hair up and his guyliner making his eyes jump at you. His arms looked pretty very lots of muscular to you – and your bad grammar there was intentional – and his abs were definitely showing through his black shirt. Those lips looked pretty kissable too, and god, you didn’t even want to get started on his .

 

BUT.

 

He was not worth your time. He was just the annoying popular guy.

 

You looked away, going back to your iPod and your kpop fan fictions. And your kpop music. And your kpop interior fangirling. You could feel his eyes on you as you read a story with your ultimate OTP of all times in it, but you decided to ignore him. It was a ty fan fiction, so you really hoped he didn’t plan on trying to read on your iPod from a distance. He suddenly frowned.

 

“What’s the story you’re reading?”

“Something that is none of your concern.”

 

Silence. You mentally laughed. Bam.

 

“… do you hate me?”

“I don’t give a flying about you.”

 

Silence again.

 

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like arrogant idiots who slept with half of Montreal.”

 

His hand met your shoulder, but you shook him off.

 

“Don’t touch me.”

“Wait, who said that?”

“Everyone. And let me tell you, this rumor’s a lot more plausible than the one about you being an idol or something.”

“But… I’ve never…”

 

He brushed a hand through his hair.

 

“Man, this is ed. I’ve never even slept with anyone. In my whole life.”

“Hmm-hmm. And my grandfather’s the pope.”

“I swear it’s true!”

“I don’t care, you’re bothering me.”

 

He sighed.

 

“Fine…”

“What, fine. It’s not fine, you’re still next to me. It’s annoying.”

 

He rolled his eyes and got up, taking his bag with him.

 

“I’ll be going then.”

“Bon débarras,” you mumbled.

“Eh?”

“Nothing, just leave already.”

 

He sighed some more and left. You only saw him a few minutes later when your logos, signs and symbols class started. You hated this class with a passion. The teacher you had was just a horrible annoying incompetent jerk that couldn’t explain things right. And he had horrible taste when it came to music. Whatever. It just helped making you hate this class. That, and the fact that the project you would have until the end of the semester was a team project. A team project in a class full of people you didn’t like. Sounded horrible.

 

“Vous devez vous mettre en équipe avec quelqu’un pour toute la session. Et rappelez-vous que vous allez travailler avec cette personne sur toute la durée du projet.”

 

That teacher’s annoying voice was the worst. He was basically explaining that you had to team up with someone you’d be with until the end of the project, which meant, in this case, the end of the semester. You already knew that, but since the rest of the class had been busy fangirling over Trou-D’Cul – because he was ironically the only guy in your class –, most of them hadn’t caught it the first time it was been explained.

 

Obviously, all of them immediately tried to team up with him. But he patiently refused everyone, saying he would be in the same team as the person who’d be left. They all decided not to team up so they would be the last person, but the teacher getting annoyed at them, they quickly teamed up with a close friend. You almost hoped for one of the idiots to team up with you, but… you were always that last person. That famous last person nobody wanted to be in team with.

 

Well, .

 

Trou-D’Cul approached you and put his hand on your shoulder softly. His voice was a lot softer than before class, like he was trying to talk to you without making you yell at him or something.

 

“Hey… it seems like we’ll be a team from now on.”

 

You were slowly dying on your desk, tired and pissed.

 

“Seems like it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“ you.”

 

He sighed.

 

“Well… the good point is that you won’t need to search for a company… I’ve already found someone who wants a new logo.”

 

Your turn to sigh.

 

“Oh, really? What is it, a dentist or some bull like that?”

“No, it’s a band… a kpop band… they don’t really have a logo and I contacted their company… they said they didn’t want to pay a pro to make one, so they would agree to take whatever we’ll give them, as long as it’s well-made. Seeing how we can’t make them pay the same amount as a pro could…”

 

You frowned.

 

“Wait. You contacted the company of a band? A kpop band at that?”

“Yeah… I speak Korean… not perfectly, but enough.”

 

You sighed again.

 

“And who might this band be?”

“Maybe you know them… it’s Super Junior. They’re with-”

“With S.M. effing Entertainment.”

“Yeah. You know them?”

 

You were staring at him, suspicious.

 

“How the flying did you do that?”

“Did I do what? Contact S.M. Ent.?”

“Get us Super Junior.”

 

He smirked, confident in himself once again.

 

“Stick with me if you want to know.”

 

Well, . It wasn’t like you really had a choice anyway.