“You’re cute,” observed Sungmin, choosing the seat nearest to that girl. “What’s your name?”

Her lips twitched in disturbance, eyeing Sungmin. What wonders of the world would he say next? Hadn’t she heard enough of his unbalance thinking capacity and ignorance?

“Sungmin-oppa, get a hold of yourself,” she told him, rolling her eyes away as she focused on copying her notes from the board to her notebook. Typing as fast as she could, she couldn’t help but feel like Sungmin still had the nerve to stare at her from behind. She turned, realizing she was correct…yet again.

“Sungmin-oppa,” she started, “start copying those notes or else you’ll fail the quiz tomorrow. You have to study.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he marveled once again. “Can I date you?”

“No,” she turned him down. When was the last time he asked that question to her? That’s right, two minutes ago. Was a simple N-O that hard to understand? Sungmin, although in truth she was very fond of the boy, never backed down from his choices for the last two years she had known him. She noticed this was so, but still, she did not intend to be his or him being hers. It was a matter of priorities. Even if he begged her to marry him, she would decline. She would forever decline him, and that was the whole heartbreak of it.

But she couldn’t tell him this or else he would stop ‘courting’ her. She just couldn’t dare hurt someone in this way---that was the only problem to her plot. How could she when he had done so much. Maybe not today was a simple phrase she told herself often, thinking when it will end. When would she end it?

“Why not?” he whined, “I’ve been doing this for two years, why won’t you say ‘yes’?”

“Because oppa doesn’t know Sunny,” she smiled. “And Sunny also thinks oppa should not date her because she isn’t cute and she isn’t gorgeous.”

“Then, Sunny is lying,” complained Sungmin, adding. “Because Sungmin will always think Sunny is exactly that. And it doesn’t matter either if she wasn’t.”

“But Sungmin-oppa is a liar himself,” Sunny said. “Sunny shouldn’t even be talking in the third person right now but she is. Sunny does not believe that oppa is telling the truth.”

“Ah, but Sungmin says Sunny is cute when she talks like that. Why doesn’t Sunny believe that Sungmin is saying the truth? Does Sunny not know how much she is pretty?”

Blushing, Sunny turned to face him, a finger ready to wick his forehead for trying to flatter her with words that weren’t true. But she got something else from him this time; that is, she was startled beyond everything else that was worth her time.

Sungmin kissed her lightly on the forehead, rubbing her head like what a big brother does to his dongsaeng.

“See, you are beautiful,” he defended. She stared at him, wide-eyed and dumbfounded.

Still, after the shock, she whacked his head and stuck her tongue out. Everybody in class must have seen the way he pulled her and planted one of his kisses. It was embarrassing, especially in here. Looking out awhile, no one seemed to care.

“No, oppa,” she muttered to herself, reddening. “I will not be your girl.”

-o0o-

His glasses screwed his eyesight; it wasn’t the easiest thing to do when his lenses were missing. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t used to wearing his old glasses but his eyes grew accustomed to the contact lenses. They were the hardest when he tried writing down his notes early that morning. Now he was walking to his second period, wondering what to do with the loose glasses. Had his nose bridge got smaller? Why didn’t it fit anymore?

“Yesung-sshi, it’s me, Choonhee!”

A young girl, her long black hair swaying as she moved, ran after him, her backpack swinging sideways as she followed him behind. Maturely, she smiled at him, panting when she reached the boy. Had he gotten taller? What suddenly happened? She looked up, noticing the awful pair of glasses he was wearing and tried fixing it with a tap of her finger on its bridge. It sort of worked, but didn’t last for a minute.

Yesung’s glasses were still skewed and his nose was slightly twitching from an itch---another cold, perhaps---just last night. Kyuhyun, being the maknae, was so pissed off that he turned the heater off, the air last night was just too cold to handle. Kibum didn’t seem to have complained about it, but Yesung surely did.

“Choonhee,” he recognized her, closing his eyes. “Ah, I look dorkier today, right?”

“So, you do remember me, Yesung-sshi.”

“Yes, of course,” Yesung mused, grinning. “You’ve taught me how to play the violin. How could I forget a mentor like you? You’ve grown taller.” He rubbed her hair like what he usually did with his younger brother back home.

“I am flattered,” Choonhee said. “What’s your next class?”

“I’m off to Studio Five,” he replied. “Going to Dance Class. And you?”

When she was about to respond to that question, the chronic rhythm of ‘It has to be you’ played, Yesung realizing it was his phone. He bowed down, walked past Choonhee---somewhat ignoring the girl---and answered the phone.

“Yeah?” Yesung answered, practically running towards wherever signal was most potent. Finally getting there, he paused and waited for the other line. As usual it was none other than his mom.

“Jongwoon? Your father misses you so much. How are you?” wondered his mother.

Annoyed, Yesung looked behind him and realized that Choonhee disappeared. She ran off into the crowd where he couldn’t find her again, like the last time. Even before, Choonhee was as popular as Siwon-sshi, because she was very talented and pretty. She taught him how to play the violin last year, during their spare time because Yesung wanted to learn as well. Choonhee offered to help, which surprised him a little because he was simply another fly like everyone else who wanted to be as close to her as possible for the benefit of popularity or any ordeal---money-related or not. But Yesung didn’t want the popularity; he just wanted to know how to play the instrument. And since then, they had practiced together----Yesung learning quite quickly. It was the first time they saw each other again. And he had been dying to talk to her.

“Yesung, are you listening?” protested the caller.

“Ah, yes, umma,” he continued walking towards the theatre he was suppose to be in. His heart ached in chorus, thinking why he had let her leave so fast yet again.

-o0o-

秋雨の候、貴社ますますご盛栄のこととお慶び申し上げます

And even Hangeng had trouble reading that. It still took him about seven minutes to decode it, and it just simply meant having a good day. He had gotten worse in understanding Japanese, which practically was the most critical language they had to learn because of the efficiency of transactions. Japan was so close to South Korea, it felt as though they were as one with them. Japan, relatively as powerful as countries in the west, was accepted by South Korea even more than it’s very own sister North Korea. Because of the bond, it was so necessary to study, not only their language, but also their culture.

How was dorm life today different from his previous years? Like the two connected Koreas, it was going bizarre. At the same time, he was scared when the other party would fire the arms. He was afraid because he didn’t even know which side he belonged to in the first place. Last night’s horrendous dinner ended into a disaster all because he trusted Ryeowook to do the cooking. The kid did great, but Hangeng just couldn’t handle milk and nearly would have died. So, did it mean he was on Kyuhyun’s team? The haters? What about Heechul who also had a crucial point about respect? Didn’t that count as a vote for dignity? Whose brother was he? Where did the promised understanding everyone hoped for go? What the ing hell happened and this had befallen on them?

“I am never ing learning this subject if it’s the last thing I do! Korean is hard enough. I’d rather go be French than this!”

He whined, carrying five thick Nippon Books, all containing Japan’s rich culture, alluring history, marvelous cites and exotic fashion. As he made his way out of the library, the books came toppling over him, like high towers crashing down to earth, caused by an unknown force---later revealing a girl running into him in such a hurry.

“Sorry,” she yelled, hastily running farther away.

Hangeng scratched his head, irritated. “You better watch where you’re going next time!”

-o0o-

“Im YoonA!” shouted the woman in the nurse’s front desk. The poor nurse frowned, looking up her list.

“Ward 4,” she instructed the worried friend who rushed all the way from her third period just to see how Yoona was doing and why in the world was she brought to their hospital. In this case, she rushed to room and spotted that only three beds were used. Two were sick-looking athlete boys who possibly got into a brawl during their practice. At the other side laid the skinny girl, along with a boy caressing her forehead so lightly, so anxious just from afar you could tell how concerned he appeared to be.

“How’s Yoona?” her voice apprehensively took over the scene. Kibum looked at her, amazed by the pearl-like beauty she possessed. Her eyes were perfect, skin not so pale and a body that made him vaguely attracted to.

“Er…the doctor said she’d do well if she stayed in bed for the whole day,” Kibum answered, blushing. “Uh, yeah they’re right. She looks so tired.”

“Yoona overdid it last night,’ admitted the girl, speaking to Kibum with unease “We live in the same dorm. I had to pick her up when she went out drinking for the first time. Her high school girl friends invited her and told her to forget about her previous boyfriend and move on cause she was in college and they’re would be more of those heartbreak attacks in here.”

“She went drinking?” asked the shocked Kibum who he himself enjoys doing in his previous years.

“I’m Kwon Yuri,” she introduced herself. “I’m one of Yoona’s unnies at the dorm. We’re roommates, and because she was totally knocked out last night, I guess the after effects are taking place. She’s just a kid, and you know how girls are sensitive with alcohol especially on their first try.”

Kibum nodded, remembering how he first took his first glass of gin when he was sixteen. Th