EXT. CAMPUS QUADRANGLE. FRIDAY. AFTERNOON.

Wonwoo plans an intervention. Or rather, because Wonwoo is struggling to keep up his apathetic, cool and aloof aesthetic - Wonwoo holds up minimalist poster boards by the sidelines of Seungcheol's fluctuating love life. Mingyu, on the other hand, has been barred completely from piping up about Seungcheol's romantic endeavours. In the land of overwhelming attraction and gimmicky love, Mingyu's about as useful as a puppy - excited, high strung, and constantly sniffing around for more. 

So instead, Wonwoo's here glaring into Sylvia Plath. 

"Um, Wonwoo, are we going to eat, or?" Seungcheol offers, only to meet Wonwoo's deadpan stare. "Okay. Right. Allocated time for glaring at words."

"Mingyu told me what happened with your Jeonghan," Wonwoo says, and shuts his book. 

Seungcheol swallows, knowing that that's the most unpassive Wonwoo's been in a conversation. Shutting his book in an attempt to focus means an escalating situation. 

"Whatever he said about us, we didn't do anything-"

"Sports education?" Wonwoo says, catching Seungcheol completely unaware.

"Uhhh, what?"

Wonwoo slaps him on the head. "Don't be such a Byron. You want to change your major."

So this is what it's about. Seungcheol gulps, and finds himself treading on eggshells again. Sure, he's known Wonwoo for some time now, and they talk about Serious Business like whether chips are better ruffled or flat, but this topic of conversation feels a little too suffocating. Seungcheol exhales noisily, wondering if he should just play it off as an idea from a spur of the moment, or acknowledge the fact that he's been toying with it since the semester started.

"I - uh, maybe? It's just a thought," Seungcheol hurriedly says, cramped and awkward under Wonwoo's considering gaze. He's getting judged for making poor life choices. 

Wonwoo sighs, "Hey, I'm not grilling you. Chill. I just thought you might want to actually talk it out with your friends."

"Oh."

"We know you're the oldest, and the most dependable, but it doesn't mean that we aren't here to listen," Wonwoo continues, wiping at his glasses. 

Seungcheol nods. "Yeah, I just need some time I think."

"Cool," Wonwoo says, reclining against the tree again. "I've got a senior who changed majors from business to literature. I can send you his contact."

"Thanks, man," Seungcheol says, and he means it. 

Wonwoo nods, nonplussed. For a moment, Seungcheol wonders if that's all, and feels a little guilty for not confiding in his friends about Major Decisions (pun fully intended). But at least now he knows they're there for him - god knows they've been with him through all of his ridiculous jokes and encounters. Seungcheol tries not to think too hard about what this discomfort (re: talking about the things that matter) means for the friendship(?) that sprung up between him and Jeonghan.

"Hey," Wonwoo says, nose buried in Sylvia Plath again. "You didn't exactly deny it when I said 'your Jeonghan'."

Seungcheol aims a Ted Hughes at him.

INT. ART BLOCK. SATURDAY. UNEARTHLY HOURS.

Wonwoo is pulling an all-nighter at the art block. By extension, quite physically, Mingyu is also there. While Mingyu's many talents involve cooking, he also has an uncanny skill for tripping over various types of floors (marble, tiled, you name it, he's done it). Somehow, he managed to set the culinary kitchen on fire after a vigorous round of sneezing and knocking things over, which is why Seungcheol is playing delivery boy.

If not for the fact that Seungcheol has a heart, and a promise to Mingyu's parents that he will not intentionally leave the clumsy fool to die, Seungcheol would have just gone back to sleep. It's three in the morning, and the three boxes of pepperoni pizza are worth a solid twenty. One day he'll be able to afford more, but right now his wallet is whimpering in the aftershocks of this nighttime robbery.

"Mingyu," Seungcheol says, and yawns, because he is a normal human being who is tired.

Mingyu perks up and detaches himself from Wonwoo's back. "Scoups! You brought pizza!"

"I did," is all he says as he places the stack of warm, expensive comfort food on a table.

Wonwoo looks up in his general direction, eyes puffy and bloodshot, and nods. "I have walked into the deepest circle of the underworld. Virgil says hi."

"How's Salvador?" Seungcheol says, peering over his shoulder at the canvas.

"Dallying. Ha, Dali-ing," Wonwoo says, dead serious. "I was aiming for Van Gogh actually, but I like my ears as they are now."

"He's got good ears," Mingyu contributes softly, and brings a slice to Wonwoo's mouth.

"How's the kitchen," Seungcheol says, blinking himself awake. 

"This girl, and this boy called Joshua, they're covering for us now, with the security guard," Mingyu whispers conspiringly. "Turns out it's not the first time they've got a fire there - someone tried to make weed brownies or something once-"

"Or twice, or thrice. I lost count after the fifty sixth anniversary," Wonwoo deadpans in between bites. "It's the Art Department, what do you expect?"

Mingyu nods solemnly. "Yeah, she took one look at Wonwoo, and said, 'You're Seungcheol's friend, right?'"

Suddenly the twinkle in Wonwoo's eye doesn't seem like it's just a symptom of sleeplessness. Seungcheol swallows noisily, and everything in his field of vision is suddenly sharper and brighter. So that's why - three boxes of pizza.

Wonwoo continues to say, as though the way Seungcheol tenses up in anticipation is nothing out of the ordinary, "Well, they're coming over soon so we can offer them pizza."

"Oh," Seungcheol says. 

Mingyu scratches his neck timidly. "I thought they were all for us..."

He's cut short as the door swings open, and two stumbling figures, limbs entwined in a carefree show of affection and familiarity, enter. Their silhouettes aren't immediately recognisable, but Seungcheol would recognise that halting laughter from anywhere. Jeongah is hooking arms with a boy around her height (Joshua, was it?), and Seungcheol feels something constrict around his chest. Maybe he should just leave.

"Jeon Wonwoo, you owe me," Jeongah says, and zooms in on the pizza on the table.

"Hello," Joshua smiles mildly at Seungcheol, and then turns to Mingyu. "We got security off our backs. Don't worry too much about it; someone always sets the kitchen on fire."

"Maybe they'll actually give us an electric stove-" Jeongah says, spinning around until she sees Seungcheol. "Oh."

"Hi," Seungcheol says, and grins awkwardly at the sight of Jeongah stuffing . 

"Cheol," Jeongah squeaks, and glares at Joshua and Wonwoo. "What are you doing here?"

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, and doesn't miss the way Jeongah is staring at him - equal parts shock and something like embarrassment? "Um, I was just delivering food."

"Boy, do you deliver," Jeongah says, and turns an alarming shade of red. 

Joshua masks his laugh as a cough, earning him yet another glare. Immediately, Seungcheol realises that there are too many ears straining to pick up on their half-conversation, and too many eyes politely averted. Even Mingyu, who has taken a break from scarfing down pizza, is watching curiously. Wonwoo fakes a cough.

"Hey, can you two get us some drinks," Wonwoo says blandly.

"Yeah, I'm going to nap here," Joshua adds slyly, exchanging meaningful looks with Jeongah.

As Wonwoo winks, Seungcheol knows that this drink is going to be on him. It doesn't stop him from feeling grateful though.

INT. VENDING MACHINE, THE SEQUEL. SATURDAY. UNEARTHLY HOURS.

"So, it's really nice of you to come," Jeongah says, leaning against the vending machine. "For them."

"Yeah, I kind of promised Mingyu's parents to not let him die," Seungcheol says.

They're just loitering around the vending machine, intent on dragging out this sacred, precious time they have. Jeongah is tired, too, Seungcheol can see, but she's holding up pretty well. For some reason, Seungcheol knows that she'll tell him straightforwardly if she doesn't feel like having a conversation. It's a rare kind of honesty that one can only experience between strangers, he thinks. Less backstory, more present.

"You could just toss him in a box," Jeongah says. 

"Schrodinger?" 

"Or a museum - art never dies."

Seungcheol shrugs at that. "Wonwoo would have my head."

"Jeon Wonwoo is such a nerd," Jeongah says, "he'd rather lure you into the basement and trap you behind a wall of bricks. Sorry, that was dark."

"Then why do I feel lightheaded?" Seungcheol says. "Okay, that was bad."

"Nah," Jeongah shakes her head. "You shouldn't feel pressured to be funny all the time."

He can see the vending machine lights flickering in her eyes. The illumination brings his attention to the freckles on her cheeks, and his eyes follow that broad sweeping brush of smooth beige skin down to her lips. They're chapped.

"So, you know," Seungcheol blurts, "what's with you and Joshua?"

Jeongah peeks at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're close," he says, already filling up with regret. "I mean, it's not my business-"

"Jealous?" Jeongah teases.

"I, um, I don't really have a right," Seungcheol says, determinedly looking away.

"We are close," Jeongah says. "But it's not. We're not."

"Oh," Seungcheol breathes, and then nods. "Oh. Okay."

Jeongah smiles, like a cat, and stretches. "What about you?"

At this, Seungcheol falters. But his brain is too tired to come up with a reasonable response. "I'm... it's complicated."

Jeongah frowns. "That ."

"No," Seungcheol says, and he means it - whatever mess he's in, it's not actually that bad. Yet. "It's nothing serious."

Jeongah bites her lip. "Are you... taken? Unavailable, committed, whatever."

Seungcheol looks at her. Even though there are bags under her eyes, even though she's all nestled in a hoodie that's covered with paint, even though this dimly lit hallway does her radiance no justice, she's still really pretty. 

"Who're you asking for?" Seungcheol teases.

"A friend," Jeongah shoots back. 

"Are they prettier than you?" Seungcheol says, and he can't believe it.

Jeongah considers the question quite seriously. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Jeonghan drifts to the front of his mind. Seungcheol pushes it away - it's not like he's cheating or anything. He's just playfully bantering, or something. "You're not bad."

Jeongah pouts, and playfully hits him. For a petite girl, she can actually pull some punches. Seungcheol fakes being hurt, and earns a roll of her eyes as well as an exasperated smirk. He likes that - there's no real need to coddle her feelings or pretend to be courteous. Jeongah starts whistling, and puts a coin into the slot of the vending machine.

"Hey, pass me your phone," Jeongah says, executing a kick to the side of the vending machine.

Seungcheol does. "What do you need it for?"

Jeongah starts keying in a number, and presses dial. Her phone rings. "Now you have my number, and I have yours."

Seungcheol pretends to be scandalised. "Exchanging phone numbers already? Even before you've promised eight sheep for my hand in marriage?"

"Eight sheep?" Jeongah hits him again. "I'd even throw in an extra cow, Cheol."