There's nothing Seungwan can do.

Not even the young college professor that she's been crushing on this whole semester can keep her eyes open.

Professor Bae is discussing the 10 major themes in American Literature.

Number 3, Coming of Age.

A young person's transition from being a child to being an adult.

The rest of the class perk up, as each and everyone of them are practically the main characters of this theme; their tainted innocence, their knowledge that life is full of and the sometimes lack of proper judgment to avoid their faces getting shoved in it.

Seungwan is reduced to inner monologues while some of her classmates, including Lisa– probably driven by hormones and delusions that they would have the slightest chance– are joking about how they can't wait to be an adult and graduate so they can finally ask Ms. Bae out.

She gets it, though. Besides her straight A's and the audacity to take elective math classes like she isn't already swamped just to appease her dad for choosing something as, and she quotes, "useless" as literature, she's not much different than her peers inside these four walls; of course, she also finds Ms. Bae beautiful. Such informed opinion only requires the bare minimum.

Like properly functioning eyes.

Actually, forget eyes.

Seungwan is leaning on the table, arms crossed, has her eyes closed, and she still finds her beautiful.

Even the sound of Ms. Bae's heels pacing the hardwood floor is beautiful.

The sound of Ms. Bae's chuckle is beautiful.

Even as it grows more and more inaudible by the second.

"Wannie? Wannie, Wannie, Wannie," Lisa whispers, poking her friends dimple, attempting something that the college bell ring has failed to do: 

Wake her up.

The rest of the class has left the room, and Ms. Bae has already found out that Seungwan has slept through the last 45 minutes of her one-hour class.

"Let her sleep, Lisa," Ms. Bae says as she tidies up the sheets of paper on her table. "I'll wake her up when I finish checking your pop quiz."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Bae. She just had no time to do this at home."

Joohyun knows this, of course. Son Seungwan had mentioned about the extra classes a week ago, when they accidentally collided with each other when the student was rushing into one of them.

She was just like Son Seungwan, not too long ago; losing sleep just so she could please the people around her.

"I've been there. I understand."

"You're so cool, Ms. Bae," Lisa gushes. "I'll leave Wannie to you, then, Miss. Gotta run to dance practice."

Joohyun waves her student goodbye as she rushes out of the room.

She sits down, crosses her legs, and gets on with checking the papers, purposely not rushing so as to be able to bask in the peaceful sight several feet in front of her longer.

Thirty minutes have passed and she's down to the last paper.

It's Son Seungwan's, and she only has to do a once-over to confirm that the girl has aced it again.

She smiles to herself.

She shakes her head.

The ample space is filled with nothing but the faint buzzing of the air conditioning, Son Seungwan's light snoring.

And her desire to close the distance between them.

Don't get her wrong; Joohyun has her morals intact, and she has way too much respect for her chosen profession.

But she's also young, only having turned 27, and still very much prone to schoolgirl crushing.

She sometimes just wishes it wasn't on one of her students.

But fact-of-the-matter is, Son Seungwan makes her giddy; the kind that makes you want to slip a cute love note in her locker giddy; the kind that makes you want to squeal when she smiles at you giddy; the kind that turns your cheeks red when your eyes meet giddy; the kind that makes you wish she turns around and looks back at you again giddy.

It's just that she's gotten better at hiding the giddy.

Because the last adjective Professor Joohyun would want to be associated with is creepy.

She bites her lip, eyes still on the girl who's sleeping like a baby.

She sighs, wondering how things would be if she was born seven years later or had she met Son Seungwan in a different place, in a different time.

Say, at a coffee shop four years later; she'd ask if the empty seat next to the young woman was taken. She'd say no, and Joohyun would ask her name and if she came there often. They would click and they would talk and they would leave the cafe with each other's number, and Joohyun would call as soon as she got home just to tell Son Seungwan that she would love to see her again.

But of course, that's just wishful thinking.

She met Son Seungwan in this very classroom three months ago; the bright-eyed coconut head in a leather jacket 15 minutes too early for class, holding the door open for the professor who had too many and too heavy hardbound American literature in her tiny hands.

It's only a couple of minutes till the bell rings again.

And maybe it's poor judgment on her part letting her limbs cover the distance between her table and Son Seungwan's, when the girl could wake up at any second and find her professor being all up in her face not cute at all.

But here she is, taking the seat next to Son Seungwan, leaning on the table, arms crossed, smiling and staring at delicate eyebrows, long eyelashes, pointy nose, and plump lips that she'll never get to kiss.

"Jesus, I'm a lunatic…" she mutters.

She closes her eyes, as if that's gonna stop her mind from imagining it.

Of course it doesn't.

"Ms. Bae…?"

Joohyun's eyes shoot open.

Son Seungwan's just awakened, eyes half open, and she's concocting explanations in her head as fast as she can.

"Finally," Joohyun says as composed as she can. "I almost fell asleep waiting for you to wake up." She stretches her arms, sits up, rolls down her sleeves that rode up. "Come on, kid, it's 5:45," she adds, patting the girl's head.

She feels her student's hand on her wrist before she's able to walk away.

"Five more minutes, Miss," Seungwan says, pulling her professor, urging her to sit back down.

She shoots her a knowing look before closing her eyes again.

"And I don't mind… I don't mind you watching."