To many students, the latter part of November is reminiscent of what it’s like when they say ‘hell on earth’. And well, that’s pretty much what it is.

                  Midterms for the first semester take place around this time, where teachers crack whips harder than they usually do. In correlation with the increased amount of homework, the students also get less sleep; the latter part of November is collectively coined ‘zombie week’ by the resident APA, or the Apocalypse Prep Association (they have one meeting ever, and that’s whenever the world ends).

                  Yoongi had texted Jimin earlier detailing what might actually be an apocalypse: ‘K SSOIJLSSOI how2 abort wbort omg helpspiejrpiajp I cany do tihs what if LIFE’ was all one message. Then Jimin remembers that being a senior student, Yoongi has to apply to post-secondary the month after; so his grades actually matter.

                  Jimin isn’t all that freaked out about midterms, since he’s sitting at about a high 80’s to low 90’s across all his courses. It’s a pretty good indication of how his marks are going to look like during finals, so he plans his second half of November with an occasional study break and a ton of movie marathons.

                  He is absolutely stress-free.

                  Come 10 o’clock on a Sunday morning, he’s then hit by a whirlwind of panic and tears: his three desk buddies from math class.

                  While microwaving a bag of popcorn in time for ‘Interstellar’, his doorbell rings and he swears he can vaguely hear his classmate Sanghyuk screaming, “lord please save our souls”. He gets the door to greet him, Junghwa, and Chanmi standing on his front porch. They have their bags and books. They look at him with this gleaming sense of hope in their eyes.

                  He closes the door.

                  “JIMIN!!!” Sanghyuk cries, loud although muffled. “PLEASE! YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN SAVE US NOW!”

                  “By us, we mean our math marks,” Junghwa adds unhelpfully. “We will love you to the ends of the Earth and worship the ground you walk on. You’ll be our personal god!”

                  Jimin doesn’t actually like being worshipped. He’s about to turn away when he hears the third voice, soft and unhurried, like music to his ears.

                  “Hey Jimin?” Chanmi starts, clearly hesitating. “It’d uh, be nice if you could help us study for an hour or so. We probably won’t worship your ground—”

                  “I will if I get at least a ninety,” Sanghyuk pipes in.

                  “—but we’ll treat you to lunch instead. Does that sound better? Please help, we’re kind of desperate and Ms Jeong is an marker.”

                  Jimin opens the door and asks them to leave their shoes in the hallway.

--

                  “Alright,” Sanghyuk says, cracking his neck. “Let’s start with trig.”

                  Junghwa raises her hand. “Actually, can we start with algebra instead? Also, that’s really gross.”

                  “What is?”

                  “Cracking your neck.”

                  “Yeah? Watch this.” He proceeds to make a show of popping every joint possible in his body while she shrieks in disgust. Jimin stares at them from his spot at the coffee table, books spread out with absolutely nothing written in them. It’s been ten minutes.

                  “Okay children,” Chanmi speaks from his right. Thank god, they might actually get some work done. “Y’all need to sit down and see how you really do it.” She cracks both wrists and eight of her toes.

                  Sanghyuk is reeling with laughter, Junghwa looks faint, and Jimin is just done.

                  “Let’s work from the b-bottom up,” he manages to say when they’ve quieted down, three minutes later. “So, let’s s-start with algebra. Junghwa, do you have any starting questions?”

                  Their faces have reverted to solemnity, each of the three listening well. He sighs of relief.

                  “Yes, I have a question.” Junghwa says, “why are there so many goddamn hugs?”

                  They stare at her. “… What?”

                  “Like, look at this one.” She points to a simple equation printed in her textbook: 3x + 4 = 19x. “See, there’s a hug right there. Since ‘x’ means hug, right? Like X and O, hugs and kisses.”

                  Jimin restrains the need to groan like he’s dying. “No, no girl, no,” Chanmi argues, “the X is just a substitute for another number.”

                  “Well then, where’s the actual number? Why can’t it do its own job?”

                  “Shoot me in the ing face,” Sanghyuk whispers in tears.

                  “That’s what you’re supposed to find out,” she replies. “You’re supposed to solve for X, what number X is replacing.”

                  Junghwa goes ‘oh’, but the really extensive syllable kind that gives Jimn more grief the longer it goes on. “Okay, so then what’s this?”

                  Chanmi squints at her book. “Y.”

                  The other girl says, “because I want to know?”

                  “I mean, the sub in that question is the letter Y.”

                  Junghwa frowns. “What happened to X? Did it get fired?”

                  “No,” Sanghyuk starts, eyes gleaming. “The equation broke up with it. So X became it’s… ‘ex’.”

                  Jimin stands up to take a washroom break.

                  He returns to the rest of them working in trigonometry, and sighs because it’s a relatively easier unit for him. After all, it’s just about the triangles.

                  “IT’S NOT ABOUT THE ING TRIANGLES!” Sanghyuk slaps his mechanical pencil onto the table, making it ricochet off the glass and right into Jimin’s fringe. “READ THE DAMN QUESTION. IT SAYS, ‘CLAIRE IS FIXING THE TOP OF HER GODDAMN ROOF. SHE PLACES A FIVE-ING-METER LONG LADDER AGAINST THE ING WALL, WITH THE TOP OF THE LADDER BEING FOUR METERS OFF THE ING GROUND. WHAT IS THE APPROXIM ANGLE THAT THE LADDER MAKES WITH THE ROOF?”

                  “Why are you swearing?” Chanmi cries in exasperation. “It’s just a simple question.”

                  Sanghyuk plucks his pencil from Jimin’s forehead. “Huh? Oh, I’m not mad or anything. Swearing helps me think.”

                  “Which is why you’re always such a prude,” Junghwa says, eating from a bag of popcorn left forgotten in the microwave.

                  “YOU WANNA ING FIGHT, GIRL?!”

                  Jimin goes back to the washroom; he forgot his sanity there.

                  It takes an hour, five minutes and three seconds for them to tread through that unit; he knows because he looks at the clock every time someone asks why there are right angles but not left angles. He tries to bring up the fact that their hour was over a long time ago, but they’ve got the rest of the term to cover. He sees no light when Sanghyuk asks what’s for dinner.

                  “Hey Jimin,” Chanmi says, stretching. They’re having yet another break. The other guy went off to see if Jimin had any hidden mags in his room while Junghwa downs the rest of the popcorn. “I thought your friend would be over today.”

                  “Tae?” Jimin blinks while sorting through his notes. “He’s cramming at his own house.”

                  “You two don’t study together?”

                  He shakes his head. “He likes to study by himself.”

                  “Are we talking about that kid with the orange hair?” Junghwa asks, wiping her hands with a tissue. “Kim Taehyung? You got a thing for him, Chanmi?”

                  “What?” Chanmi is taken aback, eyebrows furrowed in offense. “No.”

                  “Well, I used to have the weirdest crush on him in grade school,” she says dreamily. “You know, back when he wasn’t as flashy.”

                  Jimin doesn’t know how to react. The idea of any girl liking his best friend is one he can barely comprehend; it’s weird as hell. “That’s… interesting… I didn’t know y-you were in grade school with us.”

                  “Of course you wouldn’t, you were glued to Taehyung when we were like, seven.”

                  Chanmi starts laughing. “Was he?”

                  “Yeah!” Junghwa folds her hands together and looks to the ceiling. “I only recognized him like, halfway through the semester. But they were always together, even then. Jimin always made it hard to get to Taehyung. It’s super cute now that I think about it.”

                  “You like flashy guys, don’t you?” Chanmi asks her. “Chanyeol is pretty flashy.” Jimin feels the conversation turning into female territory and doesn’t know if he should plan an escape or not.

                  Junghwa giggles. “I guess so. I like tall guys who know how to have fun! What kind of boys do you like? Or do you have someone in mind already?” She gives her a knowing look.

                  “… Um.” The girl pauses. “… Sure?”

                  “Ooh, I see. What about you, Jimin?” The guy turns back from where he’s been looking at the stairs, wishing Sanghyuk would come back soon to save him. “Any girls?”

                  He looks blank. “Girls?” He notices Chanmi staring at him.

                  Junghwa suddenly gasps. “Oh my god, are you…?”

                  “What?!” He starts blushing. “I-I-I didn’t say that!”

                  “I THINK JIMIN IS GAY!” Sanghyuk returns to the living room, hollering. “HE DOESN’T HAVE ANY IN HIS ROOM!”

                  “OR MAYBE I’M NOT AN INDECENT PERSON!” Jimin shrieks, going red in the face.

                  They start laughing hysterically, gripping the edges of the table to keep themselves upright. “O-Oh my god, I’ve never heard you shout before!” Junghwa wipes tears from her eyes. She pulls out her phone. “Okay, celebratory group selfie!”

                  Jimin groans, lifting his notebook to cover his face. “Can we just start the quadratics unit already…?”

--

                  A couple days later, their math class is handed back their midterms. Jimin exchanges nervous glances with his desk buddies. He looks at the sheet of paper on his desk and slowly turns it over.

                  “… Ninety-five,” he breathes. He breaks out into a smile and takes a picture of it to send to Taehyung. “What did you guys get?”

                  “Ninety,” Chanmi replies, grinning. “That’s pretty damn high.”

                  “I got an eighty-six!” Junghwa cheers. “It’s the highest I’ve ever gotten, oh my gosh—!”

                  “IN’ NINETY!” Sanghyuk roars, standing from his seat. “IT’S THE FIRST GODDAMN NINETY IN MY LIFE!”

                  Junghwa gawks at him. “I can’t believe I got a lower mark than you.”

                  He bellows a deep laugh. “No time for your envy!” Sanghyuk reaches over his desk and grabs a large bag, placing it on Jimin’s desk. “Here’s your thank you gift, dude!”

                  Jimin stares. “You guys didn’t have to buy me anything…”

                  “You helped us ace our tests,” Junghwa replies happily. “So this is the least we could do!”

                  “Yeah,” Chanmi says. “We all pitched in. I’m saying this now, but I didn’t approve of buying it.”

                  “Just open it already!” shouts Sanghyuk.

                  Jimin takes off the wrapping to see a bouquet of magazines.