Park Jeongwoo was tapping his shoes against the floor, chin resting on his knuckle. Thinking deeper, his eyes focused on a certain student, he shifted to prop on another elbow, then pressed his cheek on the other knuckle this time. Since all teachers had been called for an emergency conference meeting, everybody in the classroom had erupted into a chaotic contest for attention. All except one.

The back of his head rested against the back of the seat, his face covered by his ball cap, his feet raised and rested on the empty seat in front of him.

Is he napping?  

Jeongwoo swallowed. For the last twenty minutes, he had been contemplating whether he should seize this opportunity and make a move. He’d been trying to talk to the new student, whom he had recently found out was from Iksan, too. The late discovery was due to the new student’s lack of introductory speech when he was first introduced in the class. But Jeongwoo’s secret but constant stalking had bore fruit, having taken much interest from the very first time.

Actually, everybody had taken interest the very first time, girls and boys alike, but nobody had really taken the initiative to approach the boy, which was no surprise.

While the new student might look like an angel-come-to-earth, he radiated an aura that told anyone who would choose to talk to him to off. He had a permanent scowl in his face that was almost rude and offensive, but there was also something about him that made you want to forgive and tolerate this unreasonable demeanour. 

Feeling like he had to beat everyone to it, Jeongwoo had launched into his investigative skills to get answers. And answers, these days, were found online. And so Jeongwoo had scoured the Internet, searched for the name So Junghwan in every social media in Korea he knew of. 

Nonexistent.

It had annoyed Jeongwoo so much that he had chosen to give up and lost interest, thinking that, if the boy did not even have Kakao , there was no future for him and Jeongwoo. 

Later on that night, while he lay in bed, Jeongwoo realized that that was exactly what had drawn him to the boy in the first place, that cloud of mystery that surrounded So Junghwan—and the handsome face, too, of course. Jeongwoo liked mysteries. And to him there were no better mysteries than people who liked to keep things private. 

Jeongwoo, really with the intention to lighten up his mood that night, opened his Instagram. When he typed So Junghwan’s name, he hadn’t expected to find him there at all.

But there So Junghwan’s name was, all complete for Jeongwoo’s eyes to see. Jeongwoo had sat up, staring at his phone in disbelief. He had tapped the name without expectation, or at least he had tried, just in case it was a different So Junghwan. But when he got to study the profile more closely, it was indeed the So Junghwan in his school, his small face in his small profile photo smiling at Jeongwoo.

His account was private, but it had no longer mattered to Jeongwoo, because he was now too hyped up from having read So Junghwan’s bio:

Your Iksan Boy.

Jeongwoo could still remember how passionately he had reacted that night. He had immediately tapped the follow button. And as Instagram assured him that the request to follow had been successfully sent, he had started jumping up and down his bed, dancing to Ariana Grande's No Tears Left To Cry.

Jeongwoo heard a snort from beside him. As though awakened from a dream, he turned to his right to see Bang Yedam mutely laughing at him.

“What,” said Jeongwoo.

Yedam didn’t respond at first, trying to pull himself together. 

“Park Jeongwoo,” he began, “the school’s explosive , is left vegetable by a transfer student who talked to nobody but probably his dead dog.”

“His dog is dead?” said Jeongwoo, “Wait, he has a dog? How did you know that?”

The smile disappeared from Yedam’s face and, now looking disappointed, he blinked at Jeongwoo, as though he didn’t know what to make of him.

“It was meant to be an. . . idiom,” said Yedam flatly.

Frowning, Jeongwoo said, “Never heard of it before.”

Yedam rolled his eyes. “I thought so, too,” he said, “because it’s self-composed.”

“What?”

“You know what,” said Yedam, throwing his hands in the air then getting to his feet, “I’m gonna go to the canteen. Just—go talk to him. So you can finally sleep better at night.”

If Yedam only knew how better Jeongwoo had been sleeping and how great his night would even be if Jeongwoo and Junghwan became friends and called him. . . names.

Jeongwoo blushed. He was a sensitive person, through and through. With Yedam gone, Jeongwoo was left to ponder on his feelings. 

Suddenly self-conscious, Jeongwoo shifted in his seat, pulling his legs tightly together. No one was really watching him. On regular days— what he could also call Pre-So Junghwan Days—he would have conjured the best jokes he could think of just to get everybody’s eyes on him. He had always been an attention-seeker, he was aware of that. Attention made him feel nice about himself.

Maybe that was partly the reason, too, why he was so invested into getting the new student to like him, so that he would be first, thus making his friends love him even more. Well, that and the fact that So Junghwan was doing things to his body. Without actually doing anything.

So deep was Jeongwoo in his thoughts that it took late for his mind to register that So Junghwan had now awakened from his nap and had, looking befuddled, turned to Jeongw