Kim Junmyeon

• Nickname: Suho
• 20 years old — Junior
• Seoul National University
• President of Student Council
• Model student personality, but tends to worry and stress excessively
• Jongin's brother
• Water
• Warrior of Nerophius

Junmyeon sent his senses to run with the undercurrent.

He had always been acutely aware of the water. Even as a child, he had been particularly partial to the allure of water. He'd been conceived and born both in quiet Sokcho, in a hospital near the seashore, surrounded by the lull of jade sea and white foam. Made by the sea and born by the sea, it was only natural that he had the sea in his heart, in his blood. That was what his mother had said, everytime a relative patted his head and commented 'what a mellow tempered boy he was' - that he'd taken the sunshine and gentle waves from the seaside of Sokcho and brought it back to Seoul. 

He liked water. He had an affinity to water- that he could not deny. When he was 5, his father enrolled him in swimming class, and by the 3rd lesson the pool was his universe, and he a little goldfish, minnowing through it as though the act was just a song. Affinity was fine; affinity was natural, just like some had affinity to a pen, or to canvas, or to the racket or the ball or the microphone. But there was only so much affinity you could show before people started getting suspicious. 

Like, for example, how the pool seemed to still whenever he so much as put a foot by its ledge. Or how, that one rainy day, he fell into a raging canal but emerged on the other side, drenched, but miraculously unharmed. And let's not forget the rare student council meetings that actually went smoothly without hassle or dilly-dally, but only because the rest of the board could see the water violently gurgling in his bottle. People thought it was his foot tapping too harshly on the ground that jerked the table and upset the water, but they became not so sure after one particularly intense thrash session where his bottle all but flew against the wall all by itself.

People were getting suspicious. His parents wondered. Junmyeon's anxiety doubled each, compounded by his own befuddlement. 

Recently, he'd started having dreams too. He dreamt of broken sails and towering spires, thunder-lit oceans thrashing under purple storm clouds, and black waters creeping onto ashen beaches. He dreamt of a blue dragon with beautiful green eyes, greener than the clean waters off the Philippine Archipelago, its breathe stirring a mist that no matter how thick still couldn't cover the iridescence of its scales. 

He dreamt of a tree with a beautiful golden trunk and thick rich foliage speckled with fruit turning black and disintegrating into dust. 

- 

Junmyeon looked down at the notes bundled up in his arm, and sighed, a bit more of his soul escaping with his baleful exhalation. His proposal for a tutoring network had failed to go through yet again; the school said it was impractical and unnecessary, that their professors would take care of everything. But what they didn't know was that while some had the means, not everyone was willing. Time was a fickle thing as well. In university, time was no longer something merely omnipresent. Time was a luxury, a privilege, and one would feel it quite significantly, in the shortening of his lifespan every single time a professor turned around to write illegible things onto the whiteboard. 

In addition to that, he still had his position paper to write, the booth to set up for the open house, and cramming to do for the two major tests coming up the following week... Above him, the sky festered with greying clouds, grumbling their discontent. Addled with his worries, Junmyeon didn't notice, hurrying his way out of the school building - until all of a sudden the rain was upon him, shattering on the concrete. 

What was he to do? He ran. He tucked his notes under his jacket and ran as hard as he could the rest of the way, despairing when he felt the telltale stick of wet paper to his chest. He could make out the bus stop in the distance - and oh, a bus! A bus was coming. He moved faster, pumping his little feet for all they were worth, chasing the orange ray coming closer and closer through the curtains of rain. 

He made it in record time, sliding across the tiled floor of the bus stop just as the vehicle groaned to a slow stop. He whipped his T-money card out of his pocket, making to jump into the bus, but something possessed him to slow down for a second and compelled him to turn behind. 

At the back of his mind, he thought he might've felt someone staring. 

Lo and behold, there was - a petite man with sharp eyes and an angular jaw, all lines and angles, only betrayed by the upward curl of his lips. Junmyeon was caught in his scrutiny, hand held in mid air, card inches from the register, bus driver tapping his feet impatiently. 

"...You're not wet," the other man commented. 

He's not wet? Of course he's wet! He'd just run in the rain, how could- 

But then he paused for a second and just felt. And indeed - the only wetness he felt was his own sweat and the wet paper stuck to his chest. His sleeves, his jeans, his shoes - somehow, they were all dry. 

His panic begun to ride up again. 

But there was no time for this! The bus driver was getting impatient. He had his paper to get to. With a flippant shrug, he jumped up the steps, hastily tapping the card before burrowing his way to the back of the bus. 

The bus drove away, but the piercing gaze of that man lingered, burning holes in his back. Belatedly, he realised that his even his hair wasn't wet.