You looked at the small square boxes on the parchment as you slid the pen across making swift check-marks accordingly. It all came down to this, the lengthy hours sat observing a stranger in the dullest of plaid outfits question and analyse people as they came and went out of the small cramped office, it all came down to this ironic game of check and go as you filled the test-sheet trying so hard to recall the correct answers.

The bright side of things at the least was that you no longer woke up at god forbidden hours of day all to invest in a degustation of clipboards and medical shoes from the parade of unearthly screams. You glanced shortly at the wall far before you, the digital clock signalling you have 12 minutes left giving you a sudden rush of anxiety as you questioned whether this early conclusion was a good sign or not.

You spotted him from across the hall as he ran his well-toned clearly masculine hands through the tufts of his lightened hair. It wasn’t too light, whenever you thought of it you described it as a soft wash of blonde on his naturally brown hair, just enough to make it glisten in the dimmed lamp-lit aura of the exam hall. He wasn’t very interactive with other people, a trait you surprisingly favoured about him, and whilst you sat towards the back and mixed within the crowd, he chose to sit across the room from you; always in the same seat.

It was easy to tell when he was smirking to himself, clearly within limits of self-admiration, as he raised his left hand and rubbed the back of his neck only allowing his sweatshirt to slip and release a teaser image of the well inked design on his back. Nobody knew what it was, or so they said, yet the rumours were coming and going speculating the mystery tattoo of the mystery boy with the mockingly mysterious smirk.

Your friends knew more about him than you did, and in literal sense you thought of him as a metaphor, whereas all they could say was that he was just a simile of another fool, no more special than anyone else. But there was something, that something that made you think further, made your stomach churn at the sheer glance of him and the piercing glare of his fresh piercingly black eyes, always outlined in a crisp black eye line.

He would always stare at you, begrudgingly biting his lip as your eyes made sudden contact in random motion. He always looked away, and yet you wondered if ever it was that the eye contact would stay. You couldn’t help but wonder what it was that he wanted so much and why he would always give you that cold look of betrayal. It was like that from the very beginning, yet as time passed the evasion of eye-space turned into piercing stares that disallowed you to focus.

The vintage bell that the professor would ring at the end of each exam once again snapped you out of your momentarily trance as you set the faux gold coated ballpoint pen beside the crisp sheet of evidently bleached test paper, quietly smiling to yourself in encouragement.

There was something that always bothered you. Being a highly elected member of the student body, you always had access to the records of each of your classmates, yet upon stumbling onto his profile you softly let yourself gasp in shock. Jung Hoseok, born February 18, 1994. An almost 4 year difference between his age and those of all your classmates, something that since that day never failed to bother you as in addition to all the questions you held there was a lack of answer. Why was he here?

Stepping out into the frost of the open plan hallways you began to walk swiftly to the Female dorms as you mentally scolded yourself for not having brought a jacket. Once you reached the third floor of the old library building you stopped well in your tracks. You saw him in the distance stretching his perfectly muscular arms well above his head. As he removed his ‘HBA’ branded sweatshirt the hem of the tank he was wearing beneath lifted slightly, only so as to allow you to see the word “Betrayal” inked onto his perfectly formed hipbones in an old typewriter reminiscent font.

You felt a ball form in your throat as you turned to search for an alternative route to your dorm room, you would under no circumstances allow yourself to cross paths with him, not while there wasn’t anyone around you that is. It appeared as though he of course was quicker with his actions.

“Now, now.” He said stepping closer to your figure, “Didn’t mommy teach you not to mess with strangers business?” He smirked, brushing a lock of your long brown hair behind your ear.

You were short at breath, yet in your mind you were doing everything but enjoying the moment as you wouldn’t stop calculating a number of possible escape routes and conclusions to this situation. Foolishly trying to run before his tracks, he grabbed you by the waist, slamming your small figure into a stack of old lockers behind you.

“You’re cute, what with your soft button nose and teasingly soft pink lips.” He breathed, gently onto your freshly exposed collarbone. You tried to reply but your muffled moans did nothing but turn him on and expose his beastly senses within you. Gently grasping your hand, he lifted the hem of the familiar sweatshirt, letting you run your soft fingertips against the word etched into his hip.

“Now that’s a word for you to learn jagiya,” he whispered, “Betrayal doesn’t make me happy.” He grunted aggressively against your lips as the fierce eye contact you made allowed you to grasp the fury within his eyes.

“J-jag-jagiya?” You managed to utter, slowly yet in shock as you tried to let your senses take control of the situation. “I don’t think you understand yet..” he whispered slowly biting into your numb bottom lip, “When I see something I desire, something I want, something that makes the animal within me cry for freedom, I make it mine.” He told you, the look in his eyes expressing utter sincerity.

“Although ever since that very first glare,” He scowled grasping violently at your hipbones as he softly pulled your hair in a dominant fashion bringing your eyes to his level. “You’ve been branded mine.”