vii. “The simple things are also the most extraordinary things, and only the wise can see them.”

—The Alchemist

_____

Kim Jongdae has much about himself, so much, that I don’t think others deserve.

I don’t know what it is, exactly. It’s those smiles I’ve noticed so long before I started talking to him, the smiles that are somehow always there despite the fact that I think—I know these people don’t deserve it. He’s the boy who pauses in the middle of the hallway when someone he barely knows in the hallway asks him for his notes on the last class they had missed and hands them over without a complaint, without even asking when he’ll have those notes back.

They don’t deserve him, I think yet again. None of them do, and it’s so unfair that still, they get him. Perhaps it’s too much to ask for them to pay him back, but maybe, just maybe, Jongdae can stop giving those smiles for once, stop going with their demands when he doesn’t have to nor want to in the first place.

***

The next day at school, there’s no Languages class, but, to my utter surprise, Jongdae slips into the seat next to me in chemistry.

I gape at him. “What are you doing?” I half-whisper, glancing at the teacher. “Why are you sitting here?”

Jongdae gives me a small smile before he turns back to taking his notebook, binder and pencil case out of his backpack. “You sit next to Hwang Yusah. She isn’t here today.”

I squint at him. “Are you stalking me now?”

“I sit next to Hwang Yusah in my last class,” he corrects me. “So I know she’s gone.”

“How do you know I sit next to her?”

“Because I’ve been in this class with you for a couple of months and we haven’t switched seats yet.” He glances back, towards the corner of the room where he normally sits with his friends. I can see Baekhyun and Chanyeol, both chatting. “And, well…”

I get what he’s trying to say almost immediately after, and I shrug. “Well, Yusah’s not here. You can keep me company, anyway. Teach me chemistry.”

Jongdae snorts. “You told me it was only Languages that you were bad at? What’s your chemistry mark?”

I turn to the front. “No comment. Yours is probably higher.”

“What’s yours?” he persists.

He’s not going to give up, and it’s not everyday that I see Jongdae so insistent, so I groan and give in. “Ninety one. You probably have a ninety nine percent.”

“Ninety eight,” he corrects. “You don’t need help if your mark is that good.”

“Shut up, Mr. Ninety Eight.”

Jongdae chuckles under his breath at that, though before he can say anything back to me, the girl who’s sitting in front of us turns around.

“Hey,” she says, a too-bright grin plastered on her face. “You’re sitting here today?”

I’m about to tell her that class is currently going on and she shouldn’t be talking when I realize that she’s addressing Jongdae, not me, which is obvious given that I always sit there, so it’s not a surprise, and because there’s no way anyone would smile at me that way. Without sparing me another glance, she gives him a smile, which, I note right then, feels fake. “I wasn’t there for the last class. I was wondering if I could grab your notes? I promise I’ll give it back next class!”

I see Jongdae hesitate. He’s holding his notebook, ready to jot down notes, and it’s obvious that he’s reluctant to do so because class has just started and lending his notes so early is definitely an inconvenience to him.

Jongdae opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, I lean forward, snatch my textbook from where I’ve set it, and flip open to the page our last lesson had been set on.

“Last class was taken from this,” I interrupt, pushing the book towards her. “When I was studying and comparing my notes, they were almost word-for-word except the teacher omitted a couple of things, so really, the textbook has it all.”

She frowns at me slightly, almost as if she hadn’t even expected me to be there. “I—” she starts, then glances at Jongdae quickly.

He’s watching with a blank expression, and I don’t know if that’s what makes her nod quickly and turn back to her seat or something else, but, obviously grudging, she looks away from us (and doesn’t even reach for her own textbook or flip to the page number I’d mentioned). Jongdae visibly relaxes slightly when she’s finally facing the other direction and directs his attention to the front of the class instead, where the teacher has begun to teach.

I sneak one more glance at him. There’s obviously something going on between him and his friends if he’s not sitting with them, but then again, it always feels as if it’s not exactly my place to ask. So I don’t.

***

We meet up again, as usual, on Sunday and work on the project. It isn’t until we’re nearly finished that I remember I want to ask him about Chanyeol, though I’m not sure. Instead, what I manage to get out is, “Is there any place around Seoul that’s worth looking around?”

He glances up from tucking his books into his backpack. “Do you want to go somewhere?” Jongdae asks. “I’m not really busy all of next week, if that works for you?”

Already slightly mortified with the terrible question, I shake my head, very much embarrassed now. “I didn’t mean that,” I try to correct, though I’m long past redemption now. “My dad wanted to go somewhere, but he has literally no idea and he literally googled places to go, so…” I trail off when I realized I’m rambling. And bluffing.

Jongdae looks slightly amused. “I was going to suggest karaoke if you haven’t done that before,” he says. “But if it’s with your dad, probably something else.”

My face feels warm. “Uh, I’m probably not going with him anyway. It’s okay.”

He’s watching with a grin on his face. “Are you up for karaoke?”

“Sounds fun, except I can’t sing. At all. You might lose your hearing if you go there with me.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

I reach for my own bag. It’s almost weird compared to the first time when we’d gone to the night market—it doesn’t feel like it’s strange, really, almost natural. Around Jongdae, I’m more or less comfortable with what he does, though I really hope that I don’t start taking that niceness for granted because I’m so used to it.

“Alright,” I finally relent. “I have nothing to do all week. When are you not busy, then?”

***

It’ll be a lie to say that I’m not reluctant to go, and it’ll be yet another lie to say that I didn’t think (at least twice) to bail because it doesn’t feel like something I’d enjoy doing or I’d see myself doing. Still, saying no to Jongdae has got to be the hardest thing ever, because whatever protests I have about going to karaoke, I find myself meeting up with him at the front of the school after despite everything. Maybe it’s because he’s Jongdae, I think. Good riddance.

“Jongdae,” I start as soon as I see him, and it all tumbles out. “I don’t know if this is the best idea or not. I mean, you haven’t heard me sing. I literally cannot sing.”

He shoulders his backpack so it’s slung over both of his shoulders. “Your point being?”

“Karaoke might not end well?”

“It’s okay, at least you’ll have the experience,” he tells me. “We can just book it for an hour—”

“An hour?”

“Is that too long?”

“Obviously!”

Jongdae laughs slightly. “Okay, then we’ll book half an hour,” he says. “Anyway, let’s hurry. I checked the bus schedule and it comes by in six minutes, so we can catch that one.”

***

Jongdae insists on paying for the room, so I sneak off to buy snacks in case he, once again, ends up paying for everything. His eyes widen slightly when I hand a soft drink to him then everything I’m carrying, then finally, laughs slightly as he tells me the room number. “That’s where you went?” he asks me as we walk.

I shru