Tick… tick… tick…

Himchan stared down at the stack of papers in front of him, each sheet covered with his small, precise handwriting. He glanced around the room at the unfamiliar faces that he only vaguely remembered seeing at the beginning of the semester.

Tick… tick… tick…

Who the heck were these people? He flipped through his exam again and out of the corner of his eye caught one of his classmates eyeing his paper. Himchan haphazardly shoved the paper towards the the right of his desk, bringing it closer to the other boy who, at first delighted, was quickly dismayed.

Tick… tick… tick...

His handwriting hadn’t always been that small… but trying to hide his answers would have earned him more hostility from the other students than he had the energy to bother with. So, Himchan had methodically shrunk his handwriting down with the excuse that if he didn’t do so, then he wouldn’t be able to adequately answer the questions with the given space. At this point in his academic career, any professor over the age of 50 would have had to use a magnifying glass to comfortably read his essays.

Tick… tick… tick…

Finally, unable to stand the deafening noise of sniffling, throat-clearing, shuffling papers, shuffling feet, pencils scratching on the papers, pens crossing answers out, pencil tips breaking, Himchan gathered his papers and pocketed his pens before walking to the front of the room where the professor sat, dozing off. He cleared his throat slightly and watched the other man jolt to his senses before handing over the exam with a bow.

“Excess noise is not allowed during exams,” the retired officer scowled even as he received Himchan’s impressive stack of microprint.

Himchan pursed his lips and nodded before saluting, bowing again and exiting the classroom. Once out in the hallway, he sighed and leaned his back against the cold brick of the wall. Really, it didn’t matter that he had cleared his throat or made any noise at all… Every student in that class had ceased movement and directed their attention to him the minute he stood up. He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the wall, heels of his polished black shoes clicking as he walked away.

“How do you always finish that quickly?” Junmyeon plopped down next to him on top of the low brick wall.

With a wry twist to his lips, Himchan leaned back on his hands and gazed up at the cloudy, dismal sky, “I have to.”

The other boy gave him an unreadable look before patting him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry about it too much… You ready for the shoot-the-deer test?”

That got a laugh out of him, “Don’t let Luhan hear you say that.”

“I know,” Junmyeon smiled easily, “This time, the deer is doing the shooting… He did alright this morning during the physical assessment though… I’m still sore from it… too cold.”

Himchan raised an eyebrow, “Luhan’s from far up north… aren’t you also from the north?”

“Hey, I have a limit to acceptable temperatures.”

“If you say so.”

They sat for a moment like that until Junmyeon spoke up again, “You still haven’t signed yet, have you?”

“Not yet,” Himchan answered curtly. He knew what was coming next.

“The Seoul Marines are still looking for more members for the Expeditions & Operations unit, you know.”

“I know.”

Himchan was greeted by a jumble of empty cardboard boxes upon entering his dorm room.

“Back already?” Jaehyo’s voice sounded very far away from amidst the packing materials.

“Of course,” he loosened his tie as he shut the door behind him, “How are you back so soon?”

His roommate’s head emerged from the pile of boxes and clothes on the floor, “This,” the boy picked something off his desk and tossed it at him.

“What--” Himchan caught the pencil and stared at it.

“Tae-il gave it to me as a last resort,” Jaehyo cackled, “I’ve been rolling that pencil all day just so I could get back early and start packing.”

It was a simple wood pencil, but carved onto one of the six sides were the words: “Lucky Wood from Sacred Tree.” Up near the eraser, were the letters A, B, C, D, E and F, one letter per side of the pencil. As Himchan turned it over in his fingers, more writing came into view. “If you forget, give me a roll!”

“Where the hell did Tae-il get this?” he carefully made his way over to his roommate’s desk and put the pencil back.

“No idea, but… hey, can you toss me the packing tape?” Jaehyo had filled one of the boxes with neatly folded clothes.

Himchan handed over the large roll of tape, “What are you going to do with those uniforms?”

“Central probably has their own stuff so I’m shipping these back home… see if any of my relatives will want them.”

“What would they do with them?”

Jaehyo shrugged, “The coats that come with the winter uniforms are pretty warm… a white dress-shirt is a white dress-shirt… same with belt and tie and shoes and whatever…”

Himchan kicked an empty box within arm’s reach of the other boy before sitting down on his own bed, “And that?” he gestured at the pristine black uniform still hanging in his roommate’s closet.

“That?” Jaehyo looked up in the middle of taping another box shut, “They gave me this nice, fancy bag to send it back in… My parents are probably going to frame that with my diploma.”

“At least you’re not going to be paraded around in front of the school wearing that,” Himchan grumbled and flopped back to lie down on on the rumpled sheets.

Jaehyo threw his head back and barked out a laugh, “They wouldn’t do that to me whether or not I stayed for graduation. Only you, Mr. Perfect.”

Himchan watched as Jaehyo packed away the last of his belongings and glanced at the digital clock glowing on his desk. He sighed deeply and slowly heaved himself off his bed, shedding the outer jacket of his uniform as he did so.

“Your turn to go to the shooting range?” Jaehyo was now meticulously writing his home address on every side of every box.

He spared his roommate a glance as he changed into a black t-shirt and dark green camouflage pants, “You’re not going?”

“Nope,” he capped the pen and stuck a mailing label onto one of the packages, carefully smoothing the sheet down, “I re-scheduled with the dean to take it right after the physical this morning.”

Himchan paused momentarily while lacing his combat boots, “You mean you took all three in a row? No wonder you needed that pencil…”

“Of course I did,” Jaehyo stood now, wincing as he straightened his knees and stretched his back out, “Hey, take a jacket with you… it’s kind of windy outside.”

Himchan also rose to his full height when he was done tying his shoes, “Outside?”

“They did part of the shooting range outside… why else do you think they said to wear combat training gear?” he opened the door to the hallway, began kicking his boxes out and stacking them into a tall pyramid.

He sighed again and pulled one of the grey canvas jackets out of his closet. “You going now?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyo held out a hand and grinned, “I’ll probably be gone by the time you come back, so good luck.”

Himchan couldn’t help the smile that slowly made its way onto his features as he took the hand and gave the other boy a rough, one-armed hug, “Same to you, Jae.”

True to his word, Jaehyo and his impressive architectural structure of boxes was gone by the time Himchan returned cold, and tired to a room that felt emptier than he could ever remember it being.

Jaehyo