The next day at lunch, Haneul’s friends were glad to see her back to her normal behavior, feeding herself with one hand and flipping through a textbook with the other.

“No more guilty moping over Park Chanyeol, huh?” Soojung asked, stabbing at her salad. “What happened? Where’d your conscience go?”

“Shush. Don’t say anything that’ll make her feel guilty again when she’s only just returned to her usual personality," Gayoung said. "Psh. Who needs a conscience anyway?”

Haneul took a break from calculus to glare at her friends. “No one becomes a sociopath in a day, you idiots. I just apologized to him.”

Their jaws dropped. “You did what?” Motionless, Soojung’s fork remained suspended above her salad. “Our prideful model student Choi Haneul apologized to the idiot who’s been dragging her grade down all term for something that wasn’t even her fault?”

Haneul sighed. “It’s not like that, you guys. I didn’t apologize for making him drop Chemistry, because at the end of the day, that was his choice. I just said sorry for calling him stupid all those times in class and being a bossy in lab.”

“Bossy sounds about right,” said a voice behind her. “At least you know it.”

“You’re a bossy , !” Gayoung didn’t even bother looking up.

“Sehun?” Haneul stared at the impassive face, confused at his caustic tone. She and Sehun weren’t friends, but they were lab partners, and there was an unspoken bond forged by mutual suffering and stress tying them together.

“I need to talk to you, Haneul. Alone,” he said, eyes darting to her friends.

“Um. Alright, then.” She turned to her shocked friends. “Don’t worry about me, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Grabbing her textbook and half-finished lunch, she followed Sehun into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

He fixed her with a cold glare. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re playing at, Haneul. I know I’m not that great at chemistry, but I’m not stupid either.” Bewildered, she crinkled her forehead.

“I don’t follow.”

Sehun scoffed. “Stop pretending. I know you’re just using Chanyeol hyung because you need his help to pass Music Composition.”

“What - that’s not true!” Haneul spluttered. “That’s -”

“Hyung told me you apologized to him yesterday. Conveniently enough, you also got him to agree to teach you music theory yesterday.” Sehun’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way your apology was genuine. You’ve been telling the whole school how stupid and useless he is for months now. Maybe Chanyeol hyung doesn’t mind being played like this because it’s you, but I won’t watch you do this to him.”

Haneul drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I’m not playing him, Oh Sehun. People aren’t things you can play games with. My situation in Composition just made me realize how he must have felt during Chemistry, so I felt bad and said sorry. End of story, okay?”

“No, not end of story.” His nostrils flared. “I know you started that Finstagram about him. I can’t prove it yet, but I will.”

“What the hell is a Finstagram?” Haneul felt her head throb with the deluge of accusations Sehun was flooding her with. Her lab partner rolled his eyes.

“You know perfectly well that a Finstagram is a fake Instagram account,” he said. “I just can’t believe you would do something so childish to make someone feel bad about himself. Look, just take down the account and leave hyung alone, okay? I won’t bother you or report you to the school or anything, and we can go back to being the lab queen and her minion as per usual. But if you don’t take it down by the end of the week, I’m reporting you to the superintendent, and then your chances of getting into a good college will be absolutely zero.”

Haneul, stunned, stood in the hallway as Sehun turned his back and walked away.

“Haneul!” Gayoung raised her eyebrows from across the aisle. “What the hell was that about? What did that kid want with you?”

Glancing furtively at the front of the room to check that the teacher was still immersed in grading papers, Haneul turned to face her friend.  

“He thinks I’m taking advantage of Chanyeol by having him tutor me for Music Composition, and -”

“You what? Since when is Park Chanyeol your tutor?” Gayoung looked like she’d just been told Darth Vader was her father.

“Not important, Gayoung. Basically, I at music theory, and Chanyeol’s a nice guy. But Sehun just kept saying something about knowing I made a Finstagram about Chanyeol, and I still don’t really understand what that is, and -”

“Wait, you were the one who made that Finsta?” Her friend gaped, horrified.

“No! Haven’t you been listening to me at all? I didn’t even know what a Finstagram was until Sehun told me just now!”

“Ladies, that doesn’t sound like studying back there.” The teacher raised her eyebrows, daring them to open their mouths again. “Maybe you need more homework to do? I can give you some, you know.”

“No, thank you, ma’am,” said Haneul immediately, ducking behind her textbook to hide her burning cheeks. Gayoung followed suit, but a few seconds later, her cell phone went flying into her friend’s lap. Sneaking a peek under the desk, Haneul stared at the screen, shocked.

“Park Paboyeol,” read the Instagram profile description displayed on Gayoung’s phone. “Failure at life. First person in world to ever have IQ of zero!” At the top of the screen was a small circular photo of Chanyeol laughing, the image stretched and bastardized until it resembled a character straight out of Gag Concert. A bitter taste seeping into , Haneul clicked on the first post, which had been uploaded nearly a week ago

“Paboyeol can’t even follow basic instructions,” it said below a picture of a very familiar purple titration solution. “Chemistry because of him. Wangdda, anybody?”

Haneul barely choked back a gasp. If there was anything all Korean students feared, it was becoming a wangdda, a social outcast who was collectively ostracized by his entire class of peers. There had been a wangdda in Haneul’s first grade class, a quiet little boy who had moved from a rural farm town and still spoke in dialect. No one ever sat with him, played with him, shared toys or food or jokes with him for fear of becoming a wangdda as well, not even the teacher. Looking back, she could only imagine the psychological trauma this had inflicted; what child could survive sixteen hours of ostracization every day? By the end of the year, he had transferred classes, but it was no use: once a wangdda, always a wangdda. And if the entire grade were to mark as wangdda a boy like Chanyeol, who thrived on social interactions and joking around with friends? He wouldn’t last a day.

Haneul couldn’t make herself look at it any longer. This was disgusting. Sehun thought she had done this?

“I didn’t do it, Sehun!” Haneul pleaded. “You have to believe me! I really didn’t!” Sehun, once again her lab partner, raised his head from where he was adjusting the Bunsen burner and snorted.

“Yeah, right. Who else would have made that account? Everyone loved Chanyeol hyung until you started making fun of his intellect.” She winced. Was it really her fault for giving the Finstagram founder ammunition with which to bombard Chanyeol?

“I don’t know who made the Finstagram, but I saw it, and it’s just plain cruel. I could never do that to anyone!” she insisted.

Sehun didn’t even bother looking up this time. “You know, for such a supposedly smart girl, you’re making some really weak arguments right now. If you want me to believe you, you’d best think of something better, like who else would do this to Chanyeol hyung.”

“Well, who does Chanyeol think made the account?” Haneul asked. “He probably has a better idea than either of us of who might have a grudge against him.”

Sehun froze, forearm muscles flexing before he met her eyes. “He doesn’t know yet,” he admitted softly. “Nobody wants to tell him, and the account only gained attention about a week ago, so he hasn’t found out about it yet.”

Haneul slumped. “Oh.” She stared listlessly at the empty spot at their lab table, wishing she could take back all the harsh insults she had flung at their missing lab partner, now knowing those words may have brought Chanyeol to the Finstagrammer’s attention.

Sehun’s face softened at the sight of her. “Okay, I don’t think you’re a good enough actress to pull off looking this sad for Chanyeol hyung,” he said. “Maybe you really didn’t make that account.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” she said, not looking up. Her lab partner sighed

“Alright, fine. If you really want to prove to me that you didn’t make the Finsta, then help me find out who did, preferably before Chanyeol hyung finds out about the account. I suspect we’ve got about a week before he stumbles upon it eventually.”

Haneul perked up. “A week,” she mused, fiddling with her lab goggles. “Is that even possible?”

“Sehun, come on, please!” Chanyeol tugged at Sehun’s sleeve incessantly.

“Why are you so whiny, hyung? Aren’t I supposed to be the younger one here? God, it’s like trying to talk to the fat baby from Spirited Away whenever I’m around you.”

Chanyeol gasped, affronted. “I’m not fat!”

Sehun lifted his head to the heavens and prayed for absolution of whatever sins he had committed in his previous lives. “I don’t know how to write love songs anyway, hyung. Why do you want my advice? I don’t even like this girl.”

“It’s perfect timing! It’s romantic!” Chanyeol thumped his chest. “I’ll write a love song dedicated to her for my final project in Music Composition, and I’ll perform it for her as my confession!”

“But does she even like you back?” Sehun’s forehead crinkled. “She doesn’t, does she? You’re just going to get your heart stomped on.”

Chanyeol sniffed.“For your information, she went to pilates with me and told me one of her deepest, darkest secrets. If that’s not a sign of her liking me back, then I don’t know what is.”

“What was the deep, dark secret?”

Chanyeol leaned in confidentially.

“She used to teach Jazzercise.”

Sehun snorted. “And now you’ve told her deepest, darkest secret to a guy who dislikes her. That’s definitely going to make her fall for you.”

“Sehun,” Chanyeol whined. “Just help me!”

“I told you, I don’t know what I’m supposed to help you with!”

“Just… just read over my lyrics first, okay?” His friend didn’t give him much of a choice; the paper was all but shoved into his hands. Sehun spent a few minutes scanning the page.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever read.” He grimaced, trying to find something positive to say. “It’s pretty close, though. You could definitely make a few changes.”

Chanyeol grinned, pulling out a pen for Sehun to make marks on the manuscript with. “Great! So you’ll help me edit, then.”

Haneul jiggled her leg impatiently, scanning the quickly emptying library again. Where is he? Didn’t he say to meet in the same place as last time?

The notes she had taken in Music Composition earlier in the day taunted her from where they sat on the table, undecipherable without Chanyeol’s help. I don’t even remember what a pentatonic scale is, she thought helplessly. It doesn’t sound like a train, but that’s all I know.

A ruckus near the entrance of the library pulled her from her frustration. “I’m here! I’m here! I’m sorry I’m so late!” Chanyeol stumbled up the final flight of stairs and rounded the corner, heaving a sigh of relief when he saw Haneul was still there.

A little annoyed but struggling to hide the smile on her face, Haneul shot him a mock glare. “You owe me for wasting my time. I’m a busy girl, Park Chanyeol.”

“What do you want? Anything! I’m so sorry, Haneul.” He bowed rapidly, indeed looking very apologetic and nearly smacking his nose into his knees.

“Do my composition homework for me, slave.” She kicked her feet up on his chair, sticking her nose in the air. Chanyeol laughed, face relaxing, and pulled the chair out from under her feet.

“I’m your tutor. It’s not like I wasn’t going to do that anyway.” She chuckled along,