HanGeng walked outside to see his seatmate standing by the window, almost leaning outside. He’d never felt this angry or irritated in his life before. Being a person who was normally calm and unaffected by arrogant (there was no other way he could describe his seatmate.) people.

Out of anger, he clenched his fist, but made sure to unclench it before he began walking toward his seatmate. Why did people never wish to work with him?

He felt his jaw muscles tighten to stop the words he so badly wanted to say from coming out.

“What’s wrong with being my seatmate?” HanGeng asked unexpectedly. His seatmate turned around, not expecting this visitor. His face became cold as he saw who it was.

“What’s right with being it?” he shot back.

“Do you always answer a question with a question, or are you just too stupid to think of an answer?” HanGeng asked venomously, a blind anger like ever before taking him over.

The coldness slipped off his face as he heard HanGeng’s words. HanGeng inwardly smirked at his words and leaned against the wall casually, as to show he was perfectly at ease and sure that he was winning this argument.

“Perhaps I’m stupid.”

The words were said so quietly HanGeng wasn’t sure he’d actually heard them. He pushed himself off the wall and walked toward  his seat mate, where his back was turned to him again.

“Don’t say that,” he scolded him, instantly sorry for his words.

“It’s true.”

They were both silent for a few moments, and the awkwardness grew with the silence. Unable to bear it anymore, HanGeng opened his mouth to ask his seatmate his name.

“My name is HeeChul, if you were wondering.”

HanGeng resisted the urge to gape at HeeChul for basically reading his mind.

“I know yours. HanGeng, isn’t it? What’s your last name?”

“Uh… yeah, it’s actually Geng. My last name Is Han,” he explained.

“Do all Chinese names have one syllable as the first name?” HeeChul asked, turning to face him again.

“Uh… no. only really high class people have two syllables, but that still counts as ‘all Chinese names’ right?” he replied.

“Hmm.”

And there was silence again.

“Now will you answer why you don’t want me to be your seatmate? Or your partner for our diary project?” he asked hesitantly.

“You really don’t want to know.”

“I don’t want to know, or you don’t want to tell me?” he countered.

“Both.”

“Well, one actually. I do want to know, else I wouldn’t have asked,” HanGeng said softly.

“Not everyone who asks wants to know,” HeeChul said just as softly.

“Well, I do. So tell me already.”

HeeChul stared at HanGeng’s face for a long time without blinking many times, and then finally his eyes dropped to the floor. HanGeng let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’d been unable to break the gaze HeeChul had held on him, or breathe it seemed.

“My last seatmate… was my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. I’m still not accustomed to calling him my ex. And as you can clearly see, he’s not my seatmate anymore.” HeeChul stated plainly and emotionlessly.

“And?” HanGeng prompted him.

“And that’s enough that you’ve gotten out of me. More than any other has managed to from just knowing me for mere hours,” HeeChul said, and suddenly his voice was very different.

It was what some would call strong, but HanGeng recognized it for what it was. Hiding the hurt, that’s what. He was an expert himself in the area.

Knowing how he felt when people pushed him for information he didn’t want to give, he left it alone.

“Okay.”

“‘Okay?’ You’re seriously not going to ask me more?” HeeChul asked incredulously.

“Nope. You said enough as I seem to recall.”

“Yeah,” HeeChul said, looking at HanGeng with a curious look on his face.

“So what’s this project about now?”

“Oh. That. We have to keep a diary in Chinese, about the things we do together,” HanGeng told him, gesturing to the both of them in a ‘together’ way.

“A diary? That’s ridiculous,” HeeChul complained.

HanGeng had a sudden insight that told him that any work would be ‘ridiculous’ for his seatmate.

“Ridiculously easy. I agree,” HanGeng said, enjoying HeeChul’s moment of ignorance.

“What are you talking about?” HeeChul whined, “All Chinese looks like is a set of lines drawn by a clearly desperate person wishing to be recognized.

HanGeng laughed inwardly at this description of how the Chinese language had been invented.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked HeeChul.

“Like what? How much I hate foreign languages?”

“Mm… not exactly. Something along the lines of I’m a Chinese national,” HanGeng said.

“Really? Damn! I feel like an idiot,” HeeChul exclaimed, then burst out laughing. HanGeng joined soon after, and they were soon gasping for breath.

“I don’t even remember what was so funny!” HeeChul exclaimed after.

HanGeng nodded his agreement and looked at his seatmate. His face was red, and eyes bright with the laughter recently abandoned. HanGeng felt something other than laughter move within him, very close to his heart. His seatmate looked cute.

HanGeng didn’t know why he had followed this crazy seatmate of his outside, but he was glad he had. He guessed that HeeChul was his first friend in this foreign place, and was glad. HeeChul looked like the kind of friend only time could delie

Then, as supposed friend had said previously, he could have guessed wrong. But he doubted that he was.

Just then, the bell rang loudly above their heads, and they reflexively clapped their hands over their ears to block out the sound. When it was safe again, HeeChul turned to HanGeng.

“Next class then, seatmate?”

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