Word count: 4,781

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Lee Jinah is widely regarded as a no-nonsense type of person; she prides herself on being perfectly pragmatic, deliberate, and routine. She runs her life on a tight schedule, shows up at the same place at a consistent time, and generally does not stray from her determined path. Her friends for being ‘totally boring,’ but a snide, “Then why are you friends with me?” usually shuts them up.

Nine o’clock on the first Monday of the new school year finds Jinah in line at the Student Union coffee shop. As soon as she gets to the register, the barista sets a large cup on the counter, “Triple venti skinny vanilla latte for Jinah at the bar!” Jinah smiles warmly at the young man and comments, “Three months away and you are still as sharp as ever—thanks, Minseok oppa!” They chatter briefly about how their summer vacations were until Jinah’s watch buzzes. “Sorry, oppa,” she apologizes, “that’s my cue.” She bids him goodbye and departs for the library.

Suddenly, her phone rings: Kim Yoonji. “Hey, Yoonji, what’s up?” she answers.

“Come have breakfast with me!” Yoonji begs, “Everyone else is still asleep.”

Jinah rolls her eyes; it’s like Yoonji hasn’t known her for 3 years already. “Sorry, Yoonji, I already got my morning coffee and I am almost at the library.”

“What?!” Yoonji screeches, and Jinah has to hold the phone away from her ear, “It is the first day of school and you haven’t even had any classes yet; what business could you possibly have at the library?”

Pushing the front doors open, Jinah quickly excuses herself, “I have to print syllabi and whatnot, you know, preparing? I’m here so I have to hang up, bye!” She hears a fleeting, ‘Print one for me, too!’ before she ends the call. Smiling to herself, Jinah stuffs her phone back in her purse and makes her way over to “her” table, the one in the far back corner by the window. She is pleased to see that no one has dared to set up camp in her territory; but let’s be honest, she has become such a permanent fixture at this table over the years that it might as well have a placard that says “Property of Lee Jinah, DO NOT SIT HERE.”

Jinah settles in, spreading her laptop, binders, and portable three-hole punch across the table. Within minutes, she has printed and retrieved the syllabi for the five classes she will be taking for the first semester of her senior year, and proceeds to three-hole punch the pages, organizing them neatly into their individual binders. Satisfied with her handiwork, she leans back in her chair and sighs to herself, “This is going to be a great year, I can feel it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two weeks pass without incident, without any disruptions to Jinah’s schedule; but she should have known it wouldn’t last. On the afternoon of the third Monday, Jinah is at her table at the library once again. She has a three-hour break between her second and third classes, so rather than going back to her dorm room, she opts to stay in the center of campus to get some work done. Her topic selection for her capstone project is due on Friday, and she has no idea what she is going to pick; some major research is in order if she wants to do well.

Jinah has barely started typing the URL for a search engine when she is distracted by a strange noise—the noise of someone clearing their throat. At first, she ignores it, thinking it is simply a student at a different table, but then it gets louder and is accompanied by a low voice saying, “Uh, uh…excuse me?”

“Yes?” she responds, not looking up from her laptop.

“Um…I’m sorry, but…are you a foreign exchange student? From America?” the voice asks. Well that is certainly a bizarre enough question that it catches Jinah’s attention. Her eyes drag from the floor all the way up the stranger’s body as she scrutinizes the person who would ask such a strange question. It is a boy, a tall one, maybe 6’1”. He is wearing a pair of black Adidas Samba Classics, a black Adidas track suit, gigantic thick-framed black glasses, and a black Chicago White Sox baseball cap. He would look incredibly somber if it wasn’t for the megawatt smile that adorns his face.

She doesn’t realize that she has been staring at him for a bit too long until he clears his throat and repeats, “So…are you?” Shaking herself out of her daze, she replies, “Is it that obvious?”

The strange boy gets an alarmed look on his face and starts waving his hands defensively. “No, no, please don’t misunderstand me, it is not obvious at all! It’s just that I heard from Minseok hyung that a nice-looking noona from the States would be sitting at the corner table in the library by the window and I should go to her for help.”

Jinah an eyebrow, clarifying, “Minseok hyung? As in Kim Minseok? Graduate student in hospitality management that should be opening up his own coffee shop instead of working at the one at the student union?”

White Sox boy smiles and nods enthusiastically, excited that this conversation is going somewhere. “Hold on a second,” she tells him, as she retrieves her phone. She browses through her most recent contacts and clicks ‘Call.’ She is not sure if Minseok is on his break yet, but she figures that at the very least, she can leave him a scathing voicemail.

Surprisingly, Minseok picks up after a couple rings, “Hey, Jinah, what’s up?”

“Yah, Oppa,” she addresses him casually, “Do you know a…” she makes eye contact with the boy and motions to him with her hand. He jumps to attention, pulls off his hat, and bows a full 90 degrees before introducing himself, “Hello, I am Park Chanyeol, Sophomore, Music Composition major. It is nice to meet you!” He straightens up and pushes fiery red bangs off his forehead before replacing his cap, sending her another timid smile.

“…Park Chanyeol? Sophomore Music Composition major?” she continues to Minseok.

“Ah, yes, Yeollie! He’s a sweet kid, a very talented musician,” Minseok praises the boy, not that those characteristics are particularly important to Jinah at the moment.

“Did you tell him to come find me?” she asks him concisely, as this call is not part of her daily schedule.

She can clearly imagine Minseok gulping loudly and pulling at his collar when he says, “That is, uh…” The hesitation is enough for Jinah to gather that he had, indeed, sent this young student to bother her. “We’ll talk about this later,” she tells him, before ending the call.

Turning her attention back to the gangly kid in front of her, she asks, “So, what exactly can I help you with?” Chanyeol seems startled by her straight-forwardness and stutters, “P-please don’t be mad at Minseok hyung—it’s just that I am not as good at writing words as I am at writing music, and I really need to pass this English writing class to keep my scholarship, and I heard this professor is really a stickler about grammar— “

“Well, it’s an English writing class,” she interrupts him, “But go on.”

He blanches but quickly recovers, rambling on about how he is a terrible writer, and he went to Minseok for help with editing his paper, but Minseok told him that Jinah helps him edit all of his papers, so Chanyeol should really be going to her for help. Chanyeol also mentions numerous times that Minseok said she is super nice and he should try not to be intimidated by her sharp words, because she is truly a caring human being underneath it all.

Jinah snorts, “Minseok oppa told you I have sharp words and that I am intimidating?”

The color drains from Chanyeol’s face and is quickly replaced by a radiant red that matches his hair, as he becomes aware of his word vomit. “…I think I’ve said too much.”

Jinah can’t help but to laugh at the sophomore, who seems so thoroughly flustered while speaking with her. He does seem good-natured, and his personality and zeal are so overwhelmingly bright that Jinah feels like she may get burned. Chanyeol just stands there in silence, hands fidgeting, before Jinah gets tired of craning her neck to stare up at him. “So…are you going to sit down and tell me about this paper, or nah?”

Chanyeol jumps at the sound of Jinah’s voice and scrambles to sit down in the chair across from her, dropping his backpack carelessly onto the adjacent seat. Jinah cringes at the loud thud, imagining the valuables that must be getting damaged. Chanyeol sets up his laptop and while it boots up, he explains that his first writing assignment is to write a five-page paper about why he chose his major.

Once he has his paper pulled up on the screen, he pushes his laptop towards Jinah, who pushes it right back. “Sorry, kid, I am not making your changes for you in there—teach a man to fish, you know?" The blank stare on the young man's face is indication enough that he is not familiar with the proverb. "Anyway, if you want me to help you, go print off your paper and bring me a hard copy. I’ll make my corrections there, we’ll talk through them, and then you can transfer the changes into your electronic version.” Chanyeol follows her instructions and watches her patiently as her eyes glide over his paper, occasionally making marks and writing questions in the margins with a red pen. Although the staring is unnerving, Jinah forces herself to keep her eyes trained on the paper and not acknowledge the feeling of his eyes giving her goosebumps.

When Jinah reaches the end of the paper, she gathers up the stack and taps the pages on the table, straightening them out. “Alright, kid, come over here,” she moves her backpack to the floor and motions for him to come occupy the seat next to her. Chanyeol sits down cautiously and hesitates to say, “Um, noona…”

Jinah looks at him out of the corner of her eye, “You can call me sunbae.”

Chanyeol blushes again and apologizes, “Sorry, sunbae, it’s just…I don’t know your name.”

“Ah, right,” Jinah chuckles at her lack of manners, “Sorry about that. I’m Lee Jinah, Senior, Journalism major. It’s nice to meet you.” She extends her hand towards Chanyeol, and he shakes it eagerly, for a bit longer than is necessary. She pulls her hand out of his grip and taps her pen on her first comment at the top of the page. “Your margins are too large, they should be 1” all around. And your spacing looks larger than double-spaced.”

Chanyeol looks sheepish when he admits, “I needed to meet the 5-page minimum…”

Jinah looks unimpressed and asks him, “You want to compose music for the rest of your life and you can’t write five pages about why you want to do it?”

Chanyeol wordlessly corrects the margins and spacing on his laptop and groans loudly, running his hands down his face. “I need to write almost a whole additional page!” He face plants onto his keyboard and stays there for a while.

“I hope this paper isn’t due today,” Jinah comments.

“It’s due Wednesday,” Chanyeol replies, voice muffled by the desk. Jinah lets him wallow in his misery for five minutes before telling him that he is five minutes closer to the due date without making any real progress.

Chanyeol lifts his head and laments, “How am I going to come up with a whole page?”

Jinah reaches over and shuts his laptop, turning to face him. “Why do you want to write music?” Chanyeol motions towards the pages on the table, but Jinah turns them face down and asks again, “Why do you want to write music? And I don’t want you to recite your paper to me.”

Chanyeol’s brows furrow and then straighten out when he launches into a monologue, “Music is powerful; music makes people feel something. It can make you happy when you are sad, it can comfort you when you feel alone, it can change your mood in one second. It transcends language and distance; it brings people together. When I was younger, I was teased a lot, for being too chubby, and then too tall and lanky; for having giant ears and giant eyes, a creepy smile; for having a pet ferret. Sometimes I felt like I was so alone, and that no one understood me; but then I heard Radiohead’s ‘Creep’ for the first time and it was like…somebody really got me, you know? And then I felt better. And then I thought about how many other people must’ve also felt better because of that song, and I thought that maybe I could write songs that heal people, too. So, uh, yeah, that’s why.” He breaks eye contact with her to stare at his hands again, a pink dusting coloring his cheeks.

“None of that is in your paper right now,” Jinah comments gently, “Why isn’t any of that in your paper?” Chanyeol mumbles something about the story being too emotional and embarrassing to be put in writing. “Would you ever put those feelings into a song?” she asks him, and he nods. “Then putting it in a paper isn’t any different.” She pauses before asking, “Do you like to read?”

Chanyeol shrugs noncommittally and Jinah continues, “Well, I do. And do you know what I like about reading? I like reading for the same reason why I like listening to music—it takes you somewhere else and it makes you feel something. And do you know what makes a good song or a good story? Like you said before, it makes you feel like someone understands you, that someone relates to you. It has to be emotional and feel real. Writing your feelings into a paper doesn’t make you weak, and it doesn’t have to feel embarrassing. It helps you to connect with the audience and it makes readers believe you. I think your professor would like your paper better if you were honest and raw, even if it is a bit emotional. This topic that he has given you isn’t something that has a right or wrong answer—you aren’t going to be judged and graded by the content of your paper, it is all about how you write it.”

Jinah opens his laptop and gestures towards it with her chin. “Let it out, kid.”

Chanyeol hesitates for a moment before his fingers start flying across the keyboard, bringing a smile to Jinah’s face. She turns her attention back to her own work while he writes next to her, a comfortable silence befalling them. After half an hour, Chanyeol pushes his laptop away from him with a contented sigh, announcing, “I’m done!”

Jinah waves the original printouts of his paper in his face, reminding him that they still need to go over those corrections before he is completely done, but that does little to curb Chanyeol’s enthusiasm. They both bend over the sheets of paper, with Jinah explaining each of her comments, and Chanyeol nodding and making corrections on his computer as they go. Every so often, Jinah catches him with his eyes glued to her face, as she speaks, but each time he averts his eyes quickly and pretends that he wasn't looking. “Do you really understand why I changed these things, or are you just doing what I tell you to do?” she asks, “Because I need you to remember these grammar rules for next time—don’t expect me to edit your papers every week if my advice goes in one ear and out the other.”

Chanyeol scratches his head and swears that he understands the updates, but he looks a little dejected that Jinah said she won’t be helping any more. Before they know it, two and a half hours have passed, and Jinah’s watch buzzes again to remind her to get going to her next class.

“Alright, kid, I have to go. I hope you get good marks on your paper, or else I’ll have to stop offering complimentary paper-editing services to Minseok oppa,” Jinah jokes, as she packs up her backpack. “On second thought, maybe you should do poorly on it so I can stop editing Minseok oppa’s papers.”

“Nooooonaaaaaa…” Chanyeol whines, “I need to pass this class!”

Jinah sends him a sharp look, “It’s sunbae to you, remember?”

“R-right, sunbae,” Chanyeol stutters, correcting himself. “Thanks a lot, sunbae! I’ll make it up to you somehow.” He sends her a blinding smile, and she almost has to shield her eyes.

Jinah waves and takes her leave, leaving him at her table, where he has so comfortably staked claim with his belongings; the same way he has so comfortably and unknowingly staked a claim on her heart.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jinah doesn’t see Chanyeol or his bright red hair for the rest of the week, which she is dismayed to admit bothers her more than it should. Secretly, she had been hoping that he would randomly show up at her table to show her his marks on his paper. She scolds herself for even worrying about it; the paper was only due a couple days ago, and it is doubtful that his professor would have had time to grade it yet. Besides, she had made it pretty clear to him that she wouldn’t be helping him with his papers anymore, so there isn’t really a reason for him to come back. She also doesn’t need any more of the disruptions in her life that his presence would surely bring.

Right on schedule the next Monday morning, Jinah is on her way to the Student Union coffee shop. She is about to walk up the stone steps when someone calls to her, “Hey! Jinah sunbae! Over here!” She looks to her left and sees the 6’1”, red-haired sophomore leaning against a pillar in the shade, holding two coffee cups. She looks around to make sure nobody else is reacting to his calling before she approaches him warily.

“Hey, kid,” she greets him, “How’s it going? Did you get your paper back?” She mentally face palms at herself for sounding too concerned about his grades.

Chanyeol pouts and asks, “Why do you always call me kid? My name is Park Chanyeol, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know your name,” she replies, “I called you kid in my mind before I learned your name, and well, habits die hard, I guess.”

Chanyeol smiles cheekily and teases, “So…have you been thinking about me?”

“YAH!” Jinah yells, arm pulling back to whack him across the head, and Chanyeol prematurely flinches. But she remembers they are in public and he is holding two steaming cups of joe, so she drops her arm back to her side. “Who are you to have such confidence? I have not been thinking about you. At all,” she adamantly denies. “Anyway, how much caffeine do you need? Two ventis first thing in the morning is a bit much.”

Chanyeol offers one cup to her and admits, “I have hot chocolate. And this one is for you—triple venti skinny vanilla latte? Did I get it right?” He looks like a puppy looking for approval from his owner.

“I am going to kill Minseok oppa,” she responds, but takes the cup anyway. “Thanks for this.”

“It’s the least I can do, you really helped me save my paper,” he says.

Jinah laughs, “You should’ve waited until after you got your grade back to thank me.”

Chanyeol chuckles along with her and comments, “You know, you aren’t nearly as sharp and intimidating as Minseok hyung made you out to be.”

Eyes narrowing, Jinah warns, “There is still plenty of time for that. Anyway, I have to go. Thanks again for the coffee!” Jinah leaves him at the Union, a new pep in her step that usually isn’t present. She turns the cup around in her hand and notices that the spot where the barista usually puts the customer’s name is filled in with ‘Jinah noona’ and a big smiley face, in Minseok oppa’s neat handwriting. If Chanyeol was walking with her, she would’ve scolded him for insisting on calling her noona, but since he’s not, she just smiles to herself.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Another week passes without any run-ins with Chanyeol, and Jinah finally feels like her life is falling back into its routine schedule. She goes to the coffee shop, classes, studies, eats lunch and dinner with her friends, attends yoga classes, repeats. In prior years, this has felt comfortable, but now, it feels like something is missing.

On Monday morning, Jinah makes her way to her table at the library, face buried in her phone, since she knows the layout of the library like the back of her hand. Unlike most mornings, though, she trips over something on the floor and ends up bumping her hip hard against the edge of the table.

“What the—!” she squeaks, placing a hand on the table to help regain her balance. She is startled even further when her hand meets the texture of soft flesh rather than the hard, smooth surface of the wooden desk. Jinah quickly retracts her hand and looks down, seeing a hand that is slightly red from the pressure she had applied to it. Her eyes follow a jacket-clad arm up to its owner’s face, and she really shouldn’t be surprised to see that it is Chanyeol.

“Um, sorry about that, I think I tripped over…” she glances at the floor, “Your foot.” Chanyeol apologizes as well, pulling his limbs fully under table and explaining that due to his height, he has trouble keeping to his own personal space. Jinah starts unpacking her belongings when she notices that he has his laptop, books, and papers scattered across half of the table.

“So…did you need something, or…?” she asks him, bewildered. He is the first person to ever attempt to share her table with her. Most people know better than to try.

Chanyeol scratches his neck sheepishly, which Jinah has come to learn is a habit of his when he is embarrassed, and picks up a few sheets of paper off the table. “You see, I have another paper due on Wednesday and— “

“No,” Jinah cuts him off before he can even finish his sentence, “I told you I wouldn’t help you again. I have my own homework and projects to work on, you know.”

“But noo—“ Chanyeol starts to say, but corrects himself, “I mean, sunbae, I got an A- on my paper last time thanks to you, and I really think having you look at my papers is helping me learn how to write better!” He slides a small paper bag across the table, which at a glance, Jinah can see is labeled as a slice of iced lemon pound cake—her favorite pastry that she often picks up at the coffee shop along with her beverage. She makes a mental note that she really does need to kill Minseok oppa. “Please?”

Jinah crosses her arms across her chest and gives Chanyeol an appraising look. “How can you prove to me that your writing is getting better?”

Chanyeol pushes the pages of his new paper across the table and eagerly explains, “As I was writing my new paper I looked through the notes that you left on my last one and made sure not to make those same mistakes again. I can’t promise that there won’t be other mistakes, but I corrected the ones that I noticed. I’m not trying to waste your time, sunbae.”

Jinah sighs; how is she supposed to say no to this kid? He is so annoyingly persistent, but so polite about it. She picks up the papers and asks, “Did you set your default margins correctly?” Chanyeol nods. “And your spacing is 2x, not something dumb like 2.15?” He nods again. “Fine. I’ll look at your paper this one more time. Just to see if you actually learned from my advice last time.” Chanyeol throws his arms up in a sign of victory, but quickly lowers them at the look that Jinah gives him.

Same as last week, once Jinah finishes with her corrections on paper, Chanyeol drags his chair next to her with his computer and makes corrections as they talk through each of his mistakes. It would be easier for Jinah to say no if he wasn’t so pleasant to be around, and so eager to learn and improve from his mistakes. Same as last week, when she stands up to leave for class, she tells him that he shouldn’t get used to this because she won’t help him again; but deep down, she knows that she won’t be able to turn him away if he comes to her again. And that is a scary and dangerous realization.

*~*~*~*~*~*

During the course of the semester, Chanyeol integrates himself so seamlessly into Jinah’s schedule and routine; every other Monday, Jinah comes to the library to find Chanyeol waiting for her at her desk with a new paper, and the Mondays in between, Chanyeol is waiting for her with a steaming cup of coffee in front of the Student Union. Jinah keeps telling herself that she should stick to her word and refuse to help him if he shows up again, but for some reason that she adamantly refuses to acknowledge, she doesn’t. It just isn’t possible that she has grown fond of the lanky giant’s presence.

The Monday of finals week, Chanyeol still shows up dutifully at the library, even though he doesn’t have a paper due that week. Jinah doesn’t even seem phased by it any more as she unpacks her study materials. “Hey, Yeol,” she greets him. Somewhere during the course of the last 12 weeks, she stopped calling him ‘kid.’

“Hey, noona!” he replies with a bright smile. Somewhere during the course of the last 12 weeks, she stopped insisting that he call her ‘sunbae.’

They work across from each other in silence until lunch time, when Chanyeol stretches his arms and yawns loudly, accompanied by an equally noisy grumbling from his stomach. Jinah snorts and mutters, “That’s attractive.”

“Hey,” Chanyeol tries to defend himself, “It takes a lot of fuel to keep this machine running.”

Closing her laptop, she folds her arms on the table and asks, “Should we grab something to eat?” Chanyeol agrees, but looks a bit nervous. “What’s wrong?” Jinah asks.

Chanyeol fidgets under her gaze before replying, “We’ve never actually hung out together outside of the library before.”

Chanyeol’s words ignite butterflies in her stomach, which she tries to hide. “It’s not hanging out—it’s just lunch.”

“Eating lunch together constitutes hanging out, noona,” he insists, sounding a bit deflated from her response. “We have to engage in conversation and stuff, or it’ll be awkward; thus, hanging out.”

“Watch me sit across from you at lunch and not engage in conversation with you, then,” she retorts, packing up her bag.

“Would it really be so bad? Hanging out together outside of the library?” he asks, scrambling to pack up his bag as well. Jinah ceases her movements and just looks at him, stunned. “Are you asking me out right now?”

Losing his bravado, Chanyeol immediately backtracks and stutters, “I, uh, was just thinking, you know, maybe I would be fun to hang out with on Fridays too.” And there is that neck scratch again.

Jinah is thoughtful for a few moments as she fastens the buttons on her pea coat. “My last final is on Thursday evening, and I don’t leave for home until Saturday morning,” Jinah offers. “You can pick me up from my dorm at 6:30 on Friday night.”

It is Chanyeol’s turn to be rendered speechless. “Wait, really?”

“Don’t be late,” she warns him.

His whole face lights up when he realizes that she didn’t reject him. “I won’t.”

“I’m serious. Not even one minute late; I won’t wait for you,” Jinah reiterates.

“I’ll be early,” he promises. Satisfied with his response, Jinah leads the way towards the exit. But once they are outside, it’s Chanyeol who takes the initiative and grasps one of her glove-clad hands, stuffing it into his coat pocket. Jinah opens to protest, but ultimately closes it again, opting to smile behind her scarf instead. She makes a mental note to get Minseok oppa a really good Christmas present this year.