The room was half lit; the windows were closed. I sat on the first row beside the door. Come to think of it, I could get my homework done here, so Nana can’t distract me when I get home. Positive attitude finally knocked some senses into me, and optimism became my mood. I opened my science textbook and scribbled a few notes down the papers the teacher handed us.

The detention lady came in, and sat straight on the desk, and opened her laptop. She probably wasn’t going to care about me anyways. I secretly checked my phone: it was 5:12pm. In about one hour, I’ll be able to get out of here.

I untangled my hair from its usual messy bun, and let it flow freely on my shoulders.

Someone knocked on the door, so the lady rose from her comfy seat unwillingly, and went to open the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” the male student apologized and stepped into the classroom. The sound of footsteps stopped for a moment, and then he continued making his walk and sat beside me. I lifted my head curiously, and then nearly got a shock: Park Yoochun.

“Surprised to see me, right?” he joked.

I nodded my head in disbelief, and then turned silently to my work. But I couldn’t concentrate, because somehow I felt a pair of eyes watching me. I glanced slightly in his way, and hid from his gaze.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I…” I paused, wondering if I really needed to tell him, “I didn’t hand in Miss Lee’s report.”

“Oh really… me too, what a coincidence,” he replied candidly.

“Yeah…”

“You kids better be quiet,” the old lady said, her eyes still glued to her screen, “I’m out to take another coffee mug, got it?”

“Yes, miss,” we replied in unison, then each laughed quietly for the sudden concentric reply.

The woman waddled out the room, and we remained quiet… for barely a minute, and then started to talk.

“So… can you help me with…this?” he said, pointing his math homework.

“Um…sure!” I agreed.

We spent fifteen minutes studying diligently, joking about the teachers and learning about each other.

Turns out he was just like me, fighting to get heard and respected in his household. My parents were often overseas, doing small businesses, earning money to survive, while I was here, studying my heart out, and living with my dorky roommate Nana, whose parents didn’t really care about her. Such a complicated world, where frail souls didn’t belong… or just, deserved better.

“My dad told me that people lived with a lifestyle, not simply for survival, and that’s why we strive for changes and better conditions,” he said after listening to my story.

“Well… I suppose he somehow got a point there,” I replied, “but it’s easy to say for affluent people.”

“Yeah, they always say that… but hey, rich people got their own things to worry about. And, don’t find me weird or hypocrite, I think that sometimes life’s easier when you’re just okay, not rich or poor, just okay, like you.”

“A wealthy man works hard, but when he’s got all that gold he’s dug up, he’s going to worry day and night about how to protect it from robbers… I guess you’re right.”

“Wow,” he sighed, “I guess you’re really a cool girl to talk to, I mean, the girls I’ve tried to talk with about these subjects were just… ignorant about everything.”

“I guess I have my own problems to fight for too… and I can totally relate to you,” I confessed. “Hey, when’s that lady coming back?”

He checked his watch.

“She’s been gone for about half an hour… ah, don’t mind her.”

We answered some math equations, did some problems, and in the end, we were totally bored with it.