“Yoona, come to the kitchen at once! Breakfast’s up!”

I was already headed towards the kitchen when Taeyeon unnie’s voice hits my eardrums. The smell of freshly appetizing French toast is something I would stop and eat despite I have urgent things to run or am late to morning class. And also, a fine cup of warm coffee, specially brewed by the older girl. No one can beat Taeyeon unnie when it comes to brewing coffees.  

“It looks delicious,” I mumble under my breath as I grab one slice from the plate before plopping down on the seat.

“I don’t know whether it’s really good, Yoona.” The latter scratches the back of her neck, her cheeks red. “You know, I’m not good at cooking. Plus, this is my first time making French toast. I even Googled if before I did it early this morning!”

“It just tastes good, unnie. Seriously, I’m not lying,” I say honestly. I would’ve put it down if it hadn’t tasted good. For the record, hats off to Taeyeon unnie because she was brave to prepare breakfast today. Normally, it would be me to prepare breakfast while she does the drink, but last night when she said she wanted to do take over my job, I was gobsmacked. She’s never held a knife, let alone cooked in the past (scratch instant noodles).

“Really?” A spark of delight washes over her face. She takes one from the same plate and grabs a bite of it. “Oh, it really does taste good!”

I lift the cup to my lips and have a small sip of the caffeine drink. “Maybe you should consider cooking dinner tonight?” I suggest, darting a significant wink to her.

“Maybe next time!” She laughs. “I’m already exhausted with just breakfast. I’m likely to faint if I have to cook dinner tonight!”

My shoulders escalates the moment I let out a laugh. “All right, I’ll cook dinner. You can take a rest, unnie.”

She gives me a nod. “Do you have class this morning, Yoona?”

“I do,” I say. “I have Basic Statistics at 10. What about you, unnie?”

“I was told that Ms. Kang postponed the class to Wednesday, so I have no class today,” she says, a small smile on her lips. “Yoona, you don’t mind if I ask you a question, do you?”

“Oh, sure I don’t,” I answer, reaching another slice of toast. “What is it?”

“Have you… uhm, have you been searching for a new place?”

I stop munching, my lips numb. I flash a blank stare at the older girl. To tell you the truth, it’s not that I’m taken aback by the question or anything. I have just begun to be aware that Taeyeon unnie seems like she wants me to move out of her place as soon as possible.

“Oh, I have been searching for one,” I say, collecting my momentum. “And by the way, I’ll be surveying an officetel in Sangdo-dong tomorrow.”

“Really? That’s great!” The big, jovial smile that spreads across her face vanishes in an instant the moment she realizes that she is being too overly-excited. “You know, Yoona.” She squeezes my hand. “I really don’t want you to leave, but Baekhyun’s been bugging me when he can move in. He’s like, want to move in as soon as possible.”

“I know,” I say, nodding in acknowledgement. “I have the right to move out, unnie. This is your apartment. Not mine. And tell you what, I will really move out once I’ve found a suitable place. As soon as possible.”

To keep it short, Baekhyun (Taeyeon unnie’s boyfriend) has finally got his freedom out of his parents’ house, so he wants to live together with his girlfriend. He actually doesn’t mind me to keep living here and neither does Taeyeon unnie—he just wants to live with her under the same roof. But the problem lies on me. I really detest the thought of being the third wheel. If they want to make out or hug or even have , they would have to be alert—because I’d be there. So the best option I have is to simply move out of there, though it’s utterly difficult to find a new place in the heart of Seoul. All of them are basically taken or just reserved by others. Much to my luck, someone I know through an acquaintance of mine, knows a vacant apartment at a particular officetel (the previous tenant has just recently moved out) located in Sangdo-dong. Thus, I’ll be surveying the place with that landlord lady tomorrow afternoon. 

“Thanks, Yoona,” the older girl says, beaming with all her heart. “Do let me know if you have problems with searching houses later, though. I’ll give my father a ring. He’ll totally help me. He always has this fan boy-meets-his-favourite-idol looks whenever you visit home.”

An amused chuckle escapes my lips. “It’s okay, unnie. I’ll handle it on my own,” I say tenderly. “But if I really do have problems later, I’ll let you know.”

“Anything for you, dear.”

///

After getting off the bus, I head straight to the campus and later make my way to the second floor through the elevator near the bursary counter and admission center.

Just after the elevator doors pop open, my eyes meet someone I am familiar with.

Joon.

“Oh, Yoona. Hi!” He waves an amiable gesture, to which I do the same thing in response. There are just a few students inside the elevator that I’m brave enough to greet him with a loud voice.

“Which floor are you going?” he asks.

“Second floor,” I say.

“Oh, we’re going to the same floor.” Joon hits the ‘close’ button and as if once cue, the doors close shut and begin to escalate swiftly.

“Do you have class right now or are you just going to hang out at the students’ lounge?”

“I have class at 2.18,” he tells me.

“Mine’s next to you. 2.17.” I give Joon a small smile and look back to the front. If you were wondering who Joon is, he is the same age of me whose major is Mass Communication. We began to know each other during the orientation day of our freshman year. Being a gentleman, he was the one to initiate a conversation. If he hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have talked to him. It’s not because he is the dean’s son or anything. He’s just so popular throughout the campus. Like so popular that he has lots of girls fawning over him and his followers on Instagram are almost reaching 11K. Major part of his extreme popularity is due to his good looks. I acknowledge it, too. He’s slickly handsome, tall—just like a fashion model—and athletic. I heard he’s pretty good at dancing too. If he were around 15 year-old or even younger than that, he would have been cast by a talent agency. Too bad now he’s too old to debut as an idol.

“Let’s go.” His words break me out of my reverie. Nodding, I follow him out of the elevator.

We walk down the corridor, which is filled with students sitting down on the floor with one another. It’s like, a normal scenery you’d come across in Daehan University. The students’ lounge has always been crammed with lots of students taking all the tables early in the morning, so those who are late have to sit down along the corridor.

“Look at that guy.” Joon points a finger at the moderately tall guy, who is leaning against the wall of the corridor with earphones plugged in his ears.

“He’s Lu Han, isn’t he?” I say vaguely. I can’t tell whether I’m right because he’s pretty much covering his face with his sloppily long knitted beanie.

“Yes, it’s him.” He clicks his tongue. “He looks lonely, doesn’t he?”

I continuously stare at him until we walk pass him. I barely know him, to be honest. I just know his name, his major and the fact he just transferred here three months ago. And yes, his name’s pretty weird because from what I heard, his father’s not Korean—he’s Chi