Seungcheol hurls his way onto the skimpy hallway and through the sea of college students, some barely functioning on a Monday morning; others just about ready to curse the next living being to ever touch them. He avoids them rather skillfully, considering how most of his hasty movements are surrendered on muscle familiarity and just auto-pilot. Like he does have a choice. His head is throbbing and he’s as much as sure he’s still twenty-five percent drunk from whatever horrible decision he did last night. He ducks onto another, scarcely avoiding someone crying over a bunch of askew papers. If he focuses enough, he could collect some lecture notes from his locker and will probably make it to Business Taxation five minutes late, and that’s the best he can do right now.

 

At this moment, the hall is full of Mingyus; obvious hazards in the middle and walking limbs from side to side. Someone from behind him says “Hi Cheol!” and he scampers fast to get enough distance from the voice. He could not afford another uncalculated variable to his lead schedule right now-may it just be small talk over heads of unassuming business zombies for three seconds. God knows he’s a pushover and the next thing there is, he’s already in his car on the way to Jackson’s diner. No.

 

The slamming open of his locker does not drown out the spit of “” from behind him but he does not care, not when Wen Junhui’s face, painstakingly akin to a chesire cat, welcomes him once he slams it back close.

 

“Heard from a birdie you got yourself in trouble last night.” He gets handed with a steaming cup of coffee and for ten seconds, he forgets about the emotional trauma his college studies have given him. Bless Wen Junhui.

 

Seungcheol pulls on his backpack rather unceremoniously and asks, “Penalty for violation of unauthorized use of corporate names?”

 

Junhui swings his right leg like a high school girl and with an easy grin, he answers, “Ten thousand to two hundred thousand.”

 

“I ing hate you,” Seungcheol chides, ready to bolt out of the hallway and into his lecture. At this instant, he has salvaged his allowance to procrastinate and any minute now, he’ll be fifteen minutes late. He can be five minutes late but never fifteen, because by then, Mr. Im would welcome him with a withering glance and it’ll make him feel like a disappointment the rest of the day. Sometimes he follows him in his nightmares. Before he can swivel to an angle towards his class though, Junhui pulls him off the traffic and he stumbles rather clumsily back.

 

The previous crowd of unruly students part, like magic, and it’s pretty surreal for Seungcheol to accept this because (1) he’s not in an American high school setting, (2) they were all still very Asian; and, (3) a poised, well-dressed man enters the hallway and Seungcheol openly gawks.

 

Let’s call him “angel”, his brain supplies not-so-helpfully. Angel is the closest thing to a celestial being right now, assuming hangover is still gripping Seungcheol by the throat and that his remaining ability to think has been fried by alcohol last night. The Angel of today is wholesomely elegant, dressed in a baby-blue dress shirt tucked in a tight-fitting white-washed ripped jeans. He’s beautiful, like he sports the blond because it was made for him and not the other way around; like he was plucked from among the children of the goddess of beauty to give mortals a favor. No one dares to interrupt him as if the crowd is either in love with him or just downright intimidated. Seungcheol shouldn’t be staring, as this wasn’t his obvious business, but he has already recounted his notes in how not to sport a crush on a stranger 101 and thinks “do not stare” is easier said than done.

 

“His building is two blocks away from Business though?” Junhui tilts his head and frowns.

 

Seungcheol snaps himself from his akin-to-drunken stupor to pull out the ample amount of information he got from what Junhui just said. He swivels heavily and questions, “You know him?” The older sizzles off the whine that threatens to spill from his throat because he doesn’t have the right to feel betrayed but somehow, he does.

 

“Yeah? Yoon Jeonghan?” Junhui nods, dumbly, as he fumbles for his notebook from his backpack, unaware that his friend might just have been malfunctioning.

 

Yoon Jeonghan?

 

There is a disturbing silence from when Junhui answers him until he’s rigid, mouth open, standing like a fish out of water. He recounts what he can scrape last night (but it’s futile as he was out of his wits drunk) and probably considered, he might have sold his soul to Satan to befall such sudden grace. Seungcheol chokes, bewildered, “He’s Yoon Jeonghan?” The Angel is Yoon Jeonghan?

 

“Yeah? Engineering. Third year.”

 

“Holy ,” Seungcheol musters, turns back and then right in front again. When he looks up, The Angel is staring at him, stray blond locks falling into his face. The hallway had a slow motion, one where the both of them are the only ones not caught and that everyone, including The Angel’s equally pretty friends, are unaware of the interaction. Celestial being his right brow and mouths, “Lunch?”

 

And Seungcheol promises to himself he will never get drunk on three bottles of vodka ever again.

 

 

vodka and friends

9:30 am

[coups88]: i have lunch with jeonghan today

[coups88]: how do u even explain that

[coups88]: what the

[kmin9yu]: lmaaaaaooooo

[kmin9yu]: he doesn’t remember

[coups88]: listen face

[coups88]: im having a crisis

[kmin9yu]: u wound me hyung

[coups88]: JEON

[jeonwonwoo]: he’s the RA ?

[coups88]: he’s the what now

[v_nonnie]: good luck on that hyung

[v_nonnie]: heard he’s intense

[coups88]: can someone

[coups88]: PLEASE

[coups88]: just give me a timeline of what I did last night

[voboss]: give the poor man an excel file

[kmin9yu]: a pubmat AHAHSSASD

[coups88]: i swear to god

[coups88]: wonwoo?

[jeonwonwoo]: um

[jeonwonwoo]: you kind of scaled the third floor last night

[jeonwonwoo]: for a dare

[jeonwonwoo]: and then

[jeonwonwoo]: long story short, the RA was there

[coups88]: oh no

[cous88]: and…?

[jeonwonwoo]: and then you bribed him lunch

10:19 am

[jeonwonwoo]: they hated him because he speaks the truth

[coups88]: so it’s not a date?

[jeonwonwoo]: what do u mean it’s a date

[jeonwonwoo]: he’s probably gonna assign you resident hall chores

[jeonwonwoo]: over lunch

[coups88]: :(

[kmin9yu]: WONWOO U BROKE HIM

[jeonwonwoo]: i did not!

[jeonwonwoo]: wait

[jeonwonwoo]: you like him?????

[jeonwonwoo]: the RA?????? the literal devil????

[v_nonnie]: heard he tortures violating students

[k_min9yu]: no he doesn’t

[jeonwonwoo]: i can still hear the agonizing screams of the poor poor souls

[k_min9yu]: STOP U ARE SCARING HIM

[v_nonnie]: he’s above the law and the law will not be tampered with any human compassion

[jeonwonwoo]: hansol what the are you on

[voboss]: rip choi seungcheol or chwe seungcheol whichever whatever

[kming9yu]: fallen (to romance) comrade

[jeonwonwoo]: a great friend

[v_nonnie]: a loving brother

11:02 am

[wen1996]: who gets to take his Nintendo Switch after he dies?

 

 

***

 

 

8:30 am

[jjongjjongie]: You owe me lunch today. Engineering. 11:25 am.

[jjongjjongie]: It's Yoon Jeonghan, by the way.

[jjongjjongie]: I got your number from Joshua.

Read 9:10 am

 

***