i.

It’s not that Donghae dislikes Hyukjae. It’s just that he doesn’t particularly… like him, either. There’s something a little strange about him, is all. For some reason, he always stands as straight as a rod, all prim and haughty and aristocrat-like, and he sometimes speaks as if modern language didn’t evolve past the 20th century. Donghae would probably find it funny, maybe even a bit, if Hyukjae wasn’t also the most obnoxious, annoying, stuck-up person he’s ever met. He wears a perpetual scowl on his face, as if he cannot possibly understand why he has to mingle with them peasants, and he speaks sarcasm more fluently than Donghae ever hopes to speak Korean.

Donghae’s not like that. He’s open and friendly and easy going. He likes people, and he likes to talk and hang out with people. It’s hard for him to stay in one place, especially if there isn’t a crowd to keep him grounded. Otherwise it’s too easy to get lost and drown in his own thoughts.

In so many ways Hyukjae is the complete opposite of Donghae. He’s the kind of person that Donghae would have a hard time talking to, even though it usually comes so easily to him, almost like a second nature. Donghae isn’t even sure that they have any sort of common ground on which they can hope to build some kind of almost-friendship.

So, no. Donghae doesn’t particularly enjoy Hyukjae’s company. But it’s not like he really has a choice, is it? They were partnered together for a mini-thesis project in economics class, and Donghae kind of wants to shoot himself in the head just thinking about it. It’ll take ages to finish, between writing up the report and preparing the presentation. Donghae can handle Hyukjae in small doses—as in, from afar and only thrice a week in class—and even then, it requires a lot of eye-rolling and exasperated snorts. But now they’ll have to meet up all the time to work on the project, and, ugh.

“Are you listening to me?” Hyukjae demands then. He looks down sternly at Donghae and puffs his chest up in clear outrage. “It’s highly important, you know.”

“Uh, sure,” Donghae mumbles. He rolls his eyes, then folds his arms on the table and rests his chin on them. Hyukjae eyes him suspiciously, clearly not believing him, but then sniffs and launches into another speech about something-really-important-indeed.

They’re sitting at a secluded table in the library. Supposedly they’re here to discuss the economics project, but so far, Hyukjae has been actively monopolizing the conversation. It’s incredible how much this guy likes the sound of his own voice, Donghae thinks, annoyed. He decides to ignore most of the information that Hyukjae flings at him in a steady flow of sharp words, and instead stares vaguely at a random point near his shoulder.

Some forty-five minutes later, Hyukjae finally stops. He nods in satisfaction and declares grandly, “then it is settled; we shall meet next Friday to discuss the specifics.”

Donghae blinks up at him, confused. He lost track of Hyukjae’s unending monologue somewhere between his scathing criticism towards Donghae’s illegible writing and at his messy notes. Something tells him that he missed an important chunk of information, but he’s too fed-up to care. “Uh, yes. Yes, we shall.”

Unwilling to stay even a second longer, Donghae takes his things and runs out of the library as fast as humanly possible.

*

Donghae doesn’t have to see Hyukjae for the rest of the week, so he settles on complaining about him to his friends. They’re not particularly interested in the reason of his despair but still look suitably sympathetic about it, so he supposes it’s okay. He goes on about it for a long, long time, all too aware that he’s whining and scowling like a five-year-old child.

“Hmm,” Heechul says again, five minutes after Donghae stopped talking, clearly distracted by his phone. “Poor Donghae indeed…”

Siwon smiles as he looks up from his book, amused. He gives Donghae a sheepish look and straightens up slightly in his seat. “On the bright side,” he says optimistically, “if it’s the same Lee Hyukjae that I’m thinking about, you’re almost sure to get a good grade. Good brains, that one.”

Feeling a bit stupid now that he’s finished ranting, Donghae glances at him and then glowers down at his lap. “You know him? How do you know him,” he grumbles sullenly.

“I’ve seen him around,” Siwon shrugs. And then adds, as if it explains everything, “I think he’s hoping to get a doctoral contract next year.”

That’s very nice and everything, Donghae thinks unhappily, but how do you know that? Suddenly feeling irrationally mad about the whole thing, Donghae snatches Siwon’s boring book out of his hands and throws it to the other side of the room. He ignores his friend’s indignant “hey!” and, stubbornly folding his arms on his chest, sulks.

*

Hyukjae corners Donghae as he’s about to walk out of his macroeconomics lecture. An impatient scowl is pulling his eyebrows down into a frown as he draws himself up importantly. Donghae suspects that he’s trying to look all tough and intimidating, and it’s a little hilarious, isn’t it, because Hyukjae’s so thin compared to him that he could probably throw him over his shoulder. Exasperated, he rolls his eyes.

Hyukjae stands only at a couple of feet in front of Donghae, almost invading his personal space with his prickliness. He’s struggling to hold onto three huge books between his skinny arms, which doesn’t stop him from almost stepping onto his toes. Now that he’s so close, Donghae accidentally breathes him in; Hyukjae smells fresh and lemony and lightly sweet. Donghae blinks, pleasantly surprised—until he remembers that it’s Hyukjae. He grimaces and takes a step back. Eyeing Hyukjae’s books, he vaguely wonders if he’s supposed to help.

“Uh,” Donghae starts, but Hyukjae’s scowl turns into a sharp look and he decides to shut up.

He eyes Hyukjae’s precarious, unsteady load with interest now. A childish part of him fueled by his annoyance at Hyukjae’s rudeness dearly hopes that the books will fall, and he has no intention to help whatsoever anymore.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Hyukjae informs Donghae. “You’re very slow.”

“I was in class,” Donghae retorts, stung. Isn’t it usually the polite thing to do to start a conversation with a simple hello?

Hyukjae sniffs disdainfully, muttering under his breath about ‘macroeconomics’ and ‘useless course’ and ‘ugh’. “Yes, well,” he then says louder—which doesn’t make any sense at all—and shoves his books into Donghae’s arms.

Donghae takes them with a surprised “oof”, almost falling over.

“Here,” Hyukjae instructs, as if he didn’t potentially threaten Donghae’s life. “You should read those, so we can start putting up the structure of our mini-thesis project as soon as possible.”