EXT. CAMPUS QUADRANGLE. MONDAY. MORNING.

Seungcheol has less than ten minutes before his module on Quantum Physics starts - it's all the way across campus, and he's not about to risk a withering glance from his lecturer again. That, and the fact that he's overdue on two essays is incentive enough. If he sprints, he just might be able to make it in time. The distance is at least a kilometre away, discounting the three flights of stairs that he has to overcome, as well as the pesky stray kitten that loves to maul his leg before he can scramble into the building. All that said, maybe it is easier to stop thinking while he's running for his life -

"Ah!"

He forgets to account for a variable: clumsy strangers who don't dart at the right time. Seungcheol trips, but manages to hold his own. The stranger, however, is not as immune to gravity. There's a shockingly loud noise as his books fall, and a tangle of cotton is on the ground. Seungcheol's brain stops functioning for a second, and he can't be sure if he should just apologise and make a dash for it, or help him out. The tangle of cotton winces, and shakily stands. There's a tiny gash of red, which quickly vanishes under distressed baby blue jeans, and Seungcheol's barely-awake conscience stammers to action.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay? You're bleeding!" is what Seungcheol tries to say, but his numb morning mouth says, "Shoot."

There's a chuckle from the stranger, who readjusts his cap, "Sorry, man."

Seungcheol shakes his head, and scoots down to help him pick up his books. He catches a glimpse of a sketch, or something, but the stranger immediately grabs it back. 

"Nah, I'm really sorry, I was late for class," Seungcheol says lamely, and stops at the sight of the stranger's face. 

He's beautiful. Seungcheol has never seen anyone so ethereal before, especially not in college, and definitely not anyone in his Physics module. The only kind of glow he's ever seen on a person's face were either from (a) the reflection of tears as they barely made it in time to submit their thesis, or (b) the blast of adrenaline on his previous roomate's, Jihoon, face as he downed a combination of mountain dew and espresso in preparation for finals. Jihoon made it through the last paper, and was rushed to the hospital ten minutes later. He's still recovering from that trauma. 

But this man, this wholesomely graceful and poised man is right in front of him, as though he'd just walked out of a corporate college advertisement. Seungcheol would very much like to retract his previous resentful statements about college being a lie. Because this man is a miracle, and this man is now smiling pitifully at Seungcheol.

"Hey," the man says, shifting his weight over to his other leg. 

Seungcheol gasps, and fumbles in his messenger bag for a plaster. He salvages a Naruto-themed, hideously orange plaster from the depths of his bag, and kneels down to look at the wound. The man falters, shocked at the sudden movement, but stands his ground as Seungcheol opens a new bottle of mineral water, soaks a tissue, and gingerly dabs it against the red skin. The plaster, grotesque and cutesey, makes its way onto swelling skin thereafter. Not his best work, but then again, he's not studying medicine. 

"Thanks," the man says when Seungcheol gets up. "You didn't have to."

Seungcheol makes the devastatingly sweet mistake of looking at him right in the eye. "Nah, I knocked you over."

There's a brief moment of silence as the man looks down at the plaster. "Well, at least the distressed jeans live up to their name."

Seungcheol is too busy staring at his face. "Yeah."

The man looks back up at Seungcheol, amusement shining bright on his even lips. "Hey, you said you were late for class-?"

Seungcheol nods vaguely, eyes still locked on the gentle shimmer on the man's cheeks. And then it hits him. 

"Oh," Seungcheol says, "shoot."

He sprints, extremely aware of the chiming laughter behind him. There's a lightness in his steps now, though, and his cheeks and chest and hands feel so unbearably tingly. Even when he gets to class, and the adrenaline finally settles down, he can't get rid of this soft giddiness in his head.

INT. CAMPUS CAFE. MONDAY. EVENING. 

"He was so beautiful," Seungcheol says, hollowing his cheeks in a silent scream. "He was-"

"White cap, striped button up, baby blue distressed jeans and the sweetest white kicks, yes, we get it," Wonwoo deadpans. 

Mingyu slaps him on the arm, and turns to Seungcheol. He's always been the more supportive one of Seungcheol's hopeless romantic pursuits. "So? What's his name?"

Seungcheol halts in his tracks. "Um."

After a few moments, Wonwoo gives him a Look, and Mingyu is still leaning forward enthusiastically, features poised in an uncanny imitation of a golden retriever. As the seconds pass, even Mingyu is made aware of the unspoken reply. The air turns cold with Wonwoo's stifled sigh.

"Yah!" Seungcheol exclaims, heat rushing to his face. "I was late for class! I didn't get the chance."

Mingyu nods sympathetically. "But you know how he looks like."

"There are a few thousand people in our university," Wonwoo says reasonably. "And our campus grounds are open to public. He could be an applicant."

"But, but," Seungcheol sinks into his seat. "I'd recognise him anywhere."

Mingyu reaches over and pats his back awkwardly. "It's okay, he's just pretty-"

"He's not just pretty-"

"There he goes again."