Kang Seulgi never left her attitude at home, and it certainly didn’t leave even after two to three years in college. A brilliant mind aggressive in terms of discussion, breaking down any arguments she sees incorrect, misleading or even downright malicious. Be it in any class, in any subject, if Seulgi knew what she was talking about, she would speak on it. Dressed like she never left her rebellious phase, she had a boot pressed against the edge of her desk as she proclaimed, loud and clear without any fear, how the professor was WRONG. Or everyone’s favorite: antiquate. Old syllabus that explored classical text yet amounted to nothing in modern context, old professors vehemently claiming that the exploration of such text was necessary, if not a requirement, for the more modern propositions.

Well, Seulgi didn’t seem to think so as she, and I quote, “would rather be hung by her toenails to hear pretentious old men sitting on golden thrones theorize about the poor man’s life.”

Ironically, Bae Joohyun, her favorite professor, would agree to this, but her delivery was never proper, always shouting, scowling at the boredom. Such passion was always felt, especially against bigoted arguments, but when they were on the same side, it was still a battlefield due to the aggressiveness.

It drove Bae Joohyun half to madness.

And yet...

When they weren’t arguing intellectually in the classroom, tossing words too fancy for comprehension, they were somewhere in the janitor’s closet making sure those words disappeared. Lips locked on lips, hungrily tasting and savoring one another, channeling such a passionate discussion (read, argument) into a far more enthralling outlet. Just coming up for air to mutter some savagely affectionate insults at one another. 

“You whiny little brat,” Joohyun said with jaded breath, watching that huge smile on Seulgi’s elated face.

“You pompuous ,” replied Seulgi with that eating grin and those defiant eyes. 

She knew how to rile each other up, to desire such a carnal desire to shut the other one up.

And it worked, as it always does, because Seulgi cupped her secret lover’s face and dove in to taste those soft babbling lips once again, intoxicated beyond belief in the touch of a woman she once felt annoyed by. Hands desperately touching everything, bodies close to one another. For once, they were precisely and exactly on the same side of the argument.

Like the classmates said in the secrecy of their own groups. “They just need to shut up and each other.”

The fact that the jokes around the classrooms turned out to be true was equal parts hilarious and amusing. But the less people knew the better. For such an untameable passion and untamperable was better when no one knew about it.