"Why did you have to take up this class?" Jungkook let out a loud grunt, kicking air as they walked to the Politics department. "It's so boring."

"I like political studies," Miya replied with a shrug, adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder.

"World politics," Yerin chimed. "Right?"

Miya nodded, causing the boy to roll his eyes, playfully shove the girl next to him.

"What? Sue me if I like to study about NATO and WarPac! And let's face it, I'd be the best-looking political figure if I choose to be one."

It was Yerin"s turn to roll her eyes. "Please." She pursed her lips after a short pause. "Would there be history of world politics?"

Her friend nodded. "I checked the course structure. I know what I'm getting into."

"Hell," Jungkook added, grinning when Miya glared at him.

"Anyway," she said, halting her footsteps, "this is me."

They stood outside the large building of the Politics department as Miya ruffled through her pockets to find the piece of paper she wrote the room number on. Frowning when she realized the last two digits were smudged, she shoved it back in.

"Oh, well," she began. "I guess I'll go in. I'll see you guys for lunch?"

"You bet," Jungkook said, pulling Miya in for a brief hug. 

"Have fun!" Yerin chirped, before walking away with the large boy to their class.

Heaving a deep sigh, Miya shook off all her nervous energy and walked in, pausing to ask a girl with oversized glasses the room number for her class. 

The classroom was well lit with a large white podium for the professor and seats that looked a little too empty in the spacious room. Miya scanned them briefly before picking one by the window. There weren't a lot of students in this class, and honestly, she wasn't surprised. It wasn't like this was like her other, supposedly more "interesting" classes, and almost everyone present in class seemed to be caught up in a debate with people they'd met only a few minutes ago . . .

. . . Except for one boy, who'd just entered, looking a like a deer in the headlights with his large, almond-shaped eyes roaming around the classroom twice before settling on the empty seat beside Miya. 

His full lips twitched as he slowly walked over and dumped his bag on the floor next to her seat. 

"Hey," Miya greeted.

"Can I sit here?" the boy asked instead, his eyes still wavering.

"Yeah, sure." She pursed her lips in appreciation at the impeccable way he was dressed: a black pullover on wide, perhaps really muscular, shoulders giving way to a well-fitted pair of dark distressed pants.

"Are you all right?" Miya asked, watching him nervously look around the room over and over again, his neck stretching at what she felt like would be pretty painful angles.

"Hm?" He finally turned around to face her, and only then did it crash down on the girl like a tidal wave how handsome he was, with his large eyes, long nose, and full, pink lips. "I'm sorry, I was, um, actually just . . ."

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

"Hi," he finally greeted, extending his hand. "I'm Seokjin."

"Miya," she said, taking his hand. 

"Political Studies major?"

She shook her head. "Psych."

He nodded. "Impressive."

"Are you . . . ?"

"Performing Arts," he said with a smile. "I love acting."

She responded with a smile, too.

"How did you end up in this class?" Seokjin opened his notebook and Miya watched as he carefully wrote in the course title on the first page, with his name under it, his initial fidgety aura slowly melting away.

"It's part of my minor."

"What's your minor?" 

The seat shook under her as Miya shifted her weight uncomfortably under his gaze. "International Relations. It's an optional elective."

"That sounds interesting. So, are you from—"

Seokjin's question was suddenly cut off by the loud, booming voice of the large man that had just walked in, his awkwardly small laptop tucked under his arm. "Good afternoon, class," he bellowed, placing his laptop down and connecting it to the projector with surprising ease. "Welcome to World Politics one-oh-one." The professor stepped back to let the projection screen flash the same message in blinding brightness. "First up, how about a fun pop quiz?"

Miya was surprised at the gradual crescendo of groans from the students—she could not be more excited for a pop quiz, and it showed just as the professor began asking questions, and then she turned into World Politics' very own Hermione Granger. At one point, the professor had to ask her to refrain from raising her hand completely, and even though he had smiled, Miya couldn't help but feel disappointed. Thankfully, the professor wrapped up the quiz soon after, stating how he wanted to ensure his students had the prerequisite knowledge for his class, and commenced the lecture.

"I see you're the brainy one," Seokjin whispered to her just as they started to discuss post-Cold War era.

Miya blinked, trying to focus on the discussion and answer the boy at the same time. "Not really," she whispered back, her head leaning sideways but her eyes fixed on the professor. "I just really like history of world politics."

Seokjin flashed her a smile that went unnoticed by the girl.

 

 

"Good class, right?" Miya asked once the professor had left, stretching her arms above her. "I feel great."

Seokjin only chuckled, the sound of his hands noisily shutting his notebook merged with the rest. 

"I can't wait for next week," she went on, struggling a little to shove her own notebook in her backpack. She wasn't sure why, but she felt a weak blush coming on when Seokjin coolly reached over to help, his fingertips briefly grazing hers. 

"Well, this pretty face has to go rehearse," he said, picking his bag up. "I'll see you next week?" 

She nodded, smiling in amusement at his 'pretty face' remark. He was a quirky one, as far as she could tell. She dialled Yerin's number as she collected her bag, ready to leave.

"Jungkook wants to know if your class was surprisingly boring, and if he was so right," her friend spoke, the overlooked greeting almost normal now.

Miya smiled. "Oh, it was surprising, all right."

 

*          *          *

 

"Here you go," Yerin sang, placing a mug of hot chocolate on Miya's desk where she sat and worked. 

The girl looked at her questioningly. "You made it?"

"Telepathically, yes. Physically, or actually? No," she responded, pointing a thumb at the tall boy who stepped into Miya's room. "He did."

"You're welcome," Jungkook said with a smirk, bringing his own mug to his lips.

"When did he get here?" Miya asked, knitting her brows together.

"An hour ago." Jungkook slid Miya's books behind the laptop she was working on and pushed himself up on the desk. "You should really try to be a better friend."

"Excuse me, I'm a great friend."

"Name one instance when you were a good friend to me," Yerin demanded, her words earning her a glare from Miya. 

"I let you live in this apartment!"

"Oh, please," Jungkook laughed. "You two barely survive here. You're lucky you have me to help."

"Don't you have your RA to worry about?" Miya asked. 

"She's cool. Plus, I know she thinks I'm cute."

"You sound like Seokjin."

Yerin rolled her eyes. "Again?"

"What?"

"Seriously, Miya, you've only met this guy today. Can you not make him a part of every conversation?"

"You make it sound like I like him."

"I don't know. Do you?"

"No, I don't! Like you said, I only met him today." She turned to Jungkook. "Tell her I don't."

"I will if you don't bring him up every ten minutes." Jungkook smirked and high-fived Yerin, the two laughing at a sulking Miya.

Slowly, she saved her report and shut her laptop, her eyes shifting between her friends. "I just think he was easy on the eyes—"

"'Easy on the eyes'? Seriously?"

"—and nice to talk to," she finished, glaring again at her friend.

"Because he may or may not have a narcissistic streak like you?" Yerin quipped.

"I think it's good to love yourself!"

"Miya," Yerin began, placing a hand on her shoulder, "as your older and, therefore, more mature and wiser friend, I can tell when things will happen."

"Things?!" 

"Child, listen to your mother," Jungkook added, dramatically lowering his mug.

"Child?!"

"Please. Have you seen your face?" Yerin asked.

"Have you seen yours?"

"Wow. Night of a thousand comebacks," the boy said with a chuckle.

"Whatever, guys, it's just one class," Miya said with a sigh as she leaned back in her chair. "He's probably not even gonna sit next to me again. And honestly, I'll feel sorry for him because look at me—who wouldn't want to sit next to this face?"

"Oh, boy." Yerin rolled her eyes.

"I really hope you guys don't befriend each other now." 

Jungkook just smiled and sipped on his drink as Miya squinted at him.

And if looks could kill, Jeon Jungkook wouldn't have survived.

 

*          *          *

 

She'd genuinely believed it when she said she didn't think Seokjin would sit next to her again. Miya was the over-enthusiastic Politics buff, who would sit next to her again by choice?

So, when she saw Seokjin walk in and take the same seat as last week beside her again, and place a sandwich on her desk, she was definitely more than just surprised.

"For me?" she asked, pointing at the clingfilm-wrapped sandwich.

Seokjin nodded, taking a bite out of the one he held. "I made them. I thought you'd like it."

"Why?"

Seokjin only looked back at her, his expressions bewildered. "I made it. Why wouldn't you?"

Miya slowly unwrapped it, taking a small bite of what she was sure food in heaven tasted like. "Well," she said with a shrug, "I make better sandwiches."

"You do? Do you cook?" 

The girl let out a small, nervous laugh. "During emergencies."

He raised his brows in question.

"I mean, I wouldn't want people to get used to something so great, right?"

"Hm. Maybe I shouldn't cook so frequently, either." 

He then proceeded to flash Miya a smile she had troubling getting out of her mind during the lecture.

 

So now, the only reason she looked forward to the weekend was because weekend meant only two days until Monday afternoon, and only two days until she could go back to her favorite class. It made her mind feel fresh again to be able to debate and answer for a class she liked studying for, and not because she had to study with a deadline. The professor obviously like her and that just encouraged her towork harder, looking up random facts out of curiosity, preparing notes late at night . . . She loved it.

Of course, the fact that Seokjin chose to sit beside her again in the next class, and the next one, and every other class after that was just an added bonus.

He was nice to talk to and way more than nice to look at. Plus, he was funny, and she loved how every time she answer something correctly, he looked at her in amusement; and how at the end of every class, he still asked her if he'll see her next week, even though they were definitely seat partners now.

What she loved the most, however, was how relaxed and happy she felt whenever she walked in to see Seokjin already in the seat next to hers, a packet of snacks on the table that they shared secretly in the middle of the lecture.

Just these little things made her look forward to every Monday, much like today.

Only, she walked in to find his seat empty, but she brushed it off easily. Maybe he's running late.

The thought kept lingering until the professor walked in and she realized Seokjin wasn't just late—he was really late.

"Good afternoon," the professor greeted again. But before he could go on any further, Miya saw the tall boy at the doorway, his backpack on his broad shoulders and a piece of paper in his hands. 

"Don't you think you're a little too late?" the professor asked.

"Um," he began, walking inside, "Actually, I came to give you this." Seokjin handed the professor the slip he was carrying. His eyes immediately landed on Miya and he smiled. 'Rehearsal,' he mouthed at her. 

Miya nodded, pursing her lips. She couldn't let him know she felt sad that he wasn't going to be there. She wasn't even ready to register and acknowledge the emotion herself!

"Okay," the professor boomed, putting the slip in his notebook. "Off you go. Good luck."

Thanking him, Seokjin turned around and walked out. 

"Now, where were we?" the professor spoke up again, clapping his hands once. "Oh, yes. I was going to tell you about the test next week."

Great, Miya thought, mentally joining in the chorus of grunts for once. Just great.

 

 

"What is it, oh young one?" 

"I have a question, Yerin," Miya spoke into her phone, walking out of the department after her class.

"We're walking out, so—"

"Where is the Performing Arts department?"

Miya could almost hear her friend frown. "Shouldn't Seokjin be taking you there?"

"He wasn't in class. And he needs to know we have a test next week."

"He needs to know? Or do you need to see him?"

"Mm. Sixty-forty." Miya looked around the large, well-spread campus. "So where is it?"

 

It turned out to be just a little farther than she'd expected. She was surprised now at his ability to make it to class before she did, because not only was it far, but also way better than the Politics department.

The hallways were lined with one-way glass panels but Miya could tell they were dance studios with the low thump of music emanating from the rooms. Their department even had more and better stocked vending machines.

Cursing herself for not taking up Performing Arts as a major, Miya walked up to lank boy. "Hey," she began. "Where are the rehearsals taking place?"

"Rehearsals?" the boy echoed. "For what?"

She deadpanned. Miya knew Seokjin was a Performing Arts major, but what was he rehearsing for? She remembered him saying that he loved acting. Was that it?

"Acting."

The boy frowned.

"Drama, musical, whatever. I'm looking for Kim Seokjin."

"Oh. He's in the auditorium. Down the hall, you'll see the board." 

He walked away before Miya could even thank him. But sure enough, she spotted the board at the end of the hall, indicating the entrance of the auditorium on the first floor, right outside of which, she saw the poster for a musical adaptation of The Sleeping Beauty, presented by the theatre society of the department . . . with Kim Seokjin starring as Prince Phillip. 

Miya gulped and curled her toes in. She didn't want to picture him as Prince Phillip, mostly because he looked like the real-life version of it already, and that was a problem in itself. 

It's okay, she told herself. Just go in, tell him about the test and walk out. And maybe, just maybe, he'd turn out to be a crappy actor, so calm down.

. . . Only he wasn't. Acting, that is.

She walked in the middle of an ongoing rehearsal, and Seokjin had just walked off the stage. His eyes landed on her standing awkwardly in the aisle and he jogged up to her, all smiles and undeniable charm.

"Hey," he greeted. "You're here?"

She nodded nervously, biting her lip. "Yeah, the professor decided to take a test next week, and I thought you should know. It'll be thirty percent of our grade, so yeah. Big deal."

"Oh." Seokjin looked down with a frown on his face.

"Is everything okay?" 

"What? Yeah." His eyes found hers again and he decided to let it out. "It's just that I have rehearsals this week, and the show on Saturday and Sunday . . ."

"Wow." Miya fiddled with the strap of her backpack. "Well, I was going to study now, since I've presentations and tests for other classes—you know me, too busy and too lovely—so if you want any help, let me know."

Seokjin laughed, his eyes turning into happy crescents as he looked at her fondly. "You really are."

She wasn't sure if he was referring to her being busy, or her being lovely.

"Are you busy right now?"

"Well, like I said, I was going to study and then—"

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"Don't you have your rehearsal?" asked M