His last class for the day couldn’t have ended fast enough. By the time the bell rang, Junhoe was off his seat and sprinting out the door of his classroom.

“Hey! Aren’t we hanging out?” Chanwoo called out to him next to a barely-awake Donghyuk.

“Can’t!” Junhoe shouted back. “Got plans.” With a hurried wave and a glimpse of Chanwoo flashing him something obscene with his fingers (probably pissed he’d have to babysit Donghyuk on his own again), he was out of sight.

It didn’t take him long to reach Hedwig’s Café in the town’s main street. He was thirty minutes early, so he settled in and had a hot chocolate. He didn’t hang out here often, but he wished he did. The spacious café looked more like a library that happened to also sell coffee, with the floor-to-ceiling book shelves that lined the walls. One area of the café had plush couches and long tables for big groups, while the other had study desks for people who needed some solitude.

It was the perfect place to boost his creativity and inspire him to write.

The thought put a smile on Junhoe’s face and got him excited. He’d been waiting for this day for weeks, and had saved up his allowance so he can pay for the workshop fee.

The thing about Junhoe was that if he wanted something, he’d go all in to get it, and nothing would stop him. So since he discovered his penchant for writing poetry on a family trip over the summer, he’d been on the lookout for lessons or a workshop to attend to help him improve on his craft. When the advertisement for this workshop came out, he was quick to sign up.

Soon the other participants arrived and took their seats around the long table. He seemed to be the youngest one in the group, which he had expected. He didn’t think he would see anyone from his school attending this kind of thing.  

So he was surprised when the seat beside him was taken by a boy whose face looked familiar.

Junhoe must’ve been staring too long, because the boy finally turned to look at him, catching him staring. He looked disturbed at first, but it didn’t take long for recognition to put a smile on his face. 

“Taekwondo dude from last night?”

“Jiu-Jitsu, actually. Chicken with Little Girl Ghost?”

The boy laughed, cheeks flushing red. His cheekbones pushed up and looked even higher when he smiled, turning his eyes into crescents.  

“I never did get your name,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Hanbin.”

Junhoe gave his name, taking the other boy’s hand in a firm handshake.

The workshop began with a round of introductions. Junhoe introduced himself as a kid who wanted to write poetry. He came to learn that Hanbin was there because he wanted to improve his songwriting.

Being among attendees who were much older, the two of them easily became the darlings of the group, with everyone impressed by their seemingly natural talent and eagerness to learn.

Hanbin, Junhoe noticed, was particularly talented, and incredibly serious with his writing. He listened to the facilitator intently, taking down notes frantically in squiggly, uneven writing only he understood, most likely. The smile in his eyes completely disappeared, his sharp cheekbones forming shadows on his face that made him look more mature and intense beyond his years. He asked a lot of questions and challenged the facilitator like a grown up would.

But when it came time to read what they had worked on that day, Hanbin became a different person. When it was his turn, all his intensity vanished, becoming the shy and awkward boy again that Junhoe met on Halloween. With some encouragement he managed to read his poem, which he had somehow turned into a rap, Junhoe supplying the beat. When they finished their impromptu joint performance, scattered applause and women swooning erupted around the table.

“That was beautiful, Hanbin. And great collab idea, Junhoe. You guys keep it up!” The teacher said. Junhoe couldn’t agree more. Hanbin was so good that Junhoe felt a little intimidated, maybe even a little jealous. If there was one thing Junhoe was not, it was insecure. He knew he had talent and that he worked hard, so he was never shy about his abilities. But Hanbin reading his work made him question his skills and made him want to be better.

Healthy competition, he thought. If he was going to get the best out of this workshop, he realized it would be a good idea to stick to Hanbin, maybe make him his informal pacesetter.  

Fortunately Hanbin seemed to have the same idea. After the workshop, it only seemed natural to head out together for a meal. They chose to go to the ramen place next door for dinner.

As expected from two aspiring writers, talk between them naturally came to their favorite books.

“High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. I can’t decide if Rob Fleming is a role model or a cautionary tale, but how the book tells his story is amazing,” Junhoe flailed excitedly. “You?”

Hanbin took a slurp of his ramen before speaking. “Fight Club – Chuck Palahniuk. But lately I’ve been reading more mellow things, like Haruku Murakami.”

“Oh!” Junhoe’s eyes went wide and sparkled. “Try Strange Weather in Tokyo by Hiromi Kawakami. You might like it.” Junhoe took a drink of his tea. “But Fight club the movie was pretty awesome too.”

Hanbin nodded frantically. “Oh yeah. Definitely a classic. Favorite movies then?”

“Hmm. The Dead Poets Society,” Junhoe answered with conviction.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF DEAD POETS SOCIETY?”

Hanbin looked at Junhoe blankly.

“’Oh captain, my captain’? Carpe diem? Living deeply and out all the marrow of life?”

Junhoe could tell these did not ring a bell for Hanbin.

“That’s it, you have to watch it. Let’s schedule something after the next workshop or something.” Junhoe fished the last piece of gyoza into his mouth with the promise to hang out with Hanbin again.

Meanwhile, Hanbin tried his very best not to let his cheekbones, now raised as high as it’s ever been as a smile formed on his lips and moved up to reach his eyes, give his giddiness away.