Park Bommie wrapped her scarf around her neck and went out into the chill Seoul air. It was a short walk to the library from her dorm and she took it in slow, measured strides. That's how she liked to believe she lived her life- slow and predictable. She didn't have the energy for much else. Her quiet Gangwon-do life had been nearing on lazy up until her move to the city. And now it had taken nearly her whole college career to get used to the face-paced traffic jam of Seoul. She missed it, though. The horses, their rooster, Gogi, up at the crack of dawn. Fried chicken and kimchi on Sunday mornings and her mother's warm laugh echoing through the house. Of course she visited on holidays, but she couldn't afford much more than that. Not even on the college kid's diet, and especially not living in Seoul City.

She had replaced small-town serenity with obnoxious horns and toxic fumes and punk rock clubs and friends with perpetual cigarette-breath and tattoos. Speaking of, she was within eyesight of the library doors, thesis research in hand, when Jiyong caught up with her. He was tall and skinny with colorful tattoos. His chocolate hair ombre out to a deep electric blue and he was always wearing some kind of hat. He was also a flamboyantly closeted gay. He grinned when he reached her.

"You're up so early," he said, bumping his hip to hers.

"As are you-" she narrowed her eyes and stopped walking. "Why?" She chimed in English.

Jiyong groaned. "Oh, Baby, you know I love it when you use those foreign tongues on me."  Bommie laughed. "Mmm, I did it again," he moaned, guilt dripping from every syllable. "I told Minji I wouldn't but I did." He stuck his lower lip out in a pout.

"Oh, god, Jiyong, what did you do?" Bom asked, worried. He rolled up the hem of his maroon man-skinnies and revealed a half-finished tattoo of some sort of exotic bird clutching a music note in its beak. It was still red and angry-looking. "It's beautiful already," Bom said. "But Minji's gonna hit you in the face."

"Ugh, I know. But you'll protect me, won't you? I knew you would," he said before she could reply. She smirked. "What are you doing, anyways?" he asked, looping his arm through hers.

She lifted her messenger bag slightly, saying, "Thesis research."

"Ew, dear, I'm sorry." Jiyong was a year behind her, majoring in journalism. "What's it on?"

"'The Benefits of Horse Therapy on War Veterans with PTSD'," Bom quoted.

"Sounds fun," he chuckled skeptically.

"Well, it is. It's just tedious." They entered the library and she set down her stuff at a table. He joined her, plopping down in the seat across from her and propping his Converse'd feet up on the table next to her laptop. "If you're going to be here, you have to be quiet."

"Oh, Darling," he sighed. "Please gossip with