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Whoever said that eight AM classes are the worst classes to exist clearly has not heard of a Friday afternoon four to six PM. Especially when those classes are, God forbid, the stupid elective Statistics classes Nicholas has to take as part of his curriculum, despite the fact that they have nothing to do with what he’s actually studying. He is a wet, sad, pathetic fashion design student. He needs all of his brain cells for correctly measuring inseams and fixing the motor of his sewing machine when it decides to break at two in the morning again, not for looking at graphs and numbers and doing things like ‘determining the P-value’ and ‘deciding on a control group’. Nicholas almost shudders just thinking about it. He’s pretty sure his hair will start prematurely greying as a response to having to go to a Statistics 100 class, and that’s despite the fact that he dyes it. 

(You are so dramatic, Harua says dismissively, when Nicholas collapses onto their shared couch to whine at him about his plight. One would almost think these classes, which so many students take every year and live to tell the tale, are going to be the end of you.

Nicholas levels him with a flat, annoyed look. If I actually die from these classes, you’re going to be so sad.

Harua, absolutely Nicholas’ brother in everything but blood and at the same time the worst person in his life, does not deem that worthy of a response.)

Alas, Seoul National University does not care about the horrors, and this means that, despite questioning his sanity at least thirteen times, Nicholas does end up trekking towards the buildings at the heart of the campus, where the respectable and elite STEM-students take their classes and bunk up in their fancy labs—far away from where the degenerate applied humanities have their studios in the crumbling buildings on the fringes of the university grounds.

Okay, it is not that dramatic, but Nicholas is in a mood for dramatics. His dramatics are, apart from his wiggles, his best quality. And that is despite the rumours Harua spreads about him. 

Taking a Statistics 100 class during his third year means that there is a non-zero chance that Nicholas will be surrounded by first years for the entire semester. He kept putting off signing up for this class until he literally couldn’t anymore, trying to find various ways to get out of it, but it turns out that he is in fact not smarter than one of the three biggest universities of this entire country.

Who would’ve thought. 

Defeated, Nicholas slumps into the lecture hall, which is set up like a half-theatre, rows of desks on different tiers turned towards a massive chalkboard hung up against the furthest wall. In front of that stands a heavy, mahogany desk with a stack of printed syllabi already laid out on one of the corners. The teacher is already present, and so is a smattering of students, muffled chattering going around the classroom. From their bright eyes and chipper demeanour, Nicholas can immediately tell that he had been right—first years, the lot of them. It is not that Nicholas doesn’t know how to handle kids younger than him, though it isn’t as much him handling Harua as it is Harua bullying him on the regular, but just not at this time of day. Friday at four PM means that most of his energy is long gone, and he just wants to put his head down and float through the class. Mandatory attendance is an actual medieval torture tactic, and that’s not Nicholas being biased. 

Soon enough, most of the students have settled down, and the clock hands on the large clock squeezed between the chalkboard and the ceiling creep towards four. The professor clears his throat, and the conversations around the class peter out into silence. It is one of the blessings about being surrounded by first years—they still possess that healthy dose of fear for figures of authority. That will soon be resolved when they bump into one of their professors absolutely twerking it out in one of the shady Hongdae basement clubs. 

Or perhaps that is just a uniquely fashion design student experience. Maybe the professors teaching respected subjects like Statistics 100 don’t know how to get freaky. 

Nicholas narrows his eyes at the professor at the front of the room. He’s fairly young and handsome enough, and though his current tie and jacket combo is kind of outdated, a square jaw and neat comma bangs can solve most fashion disasters. It’s honestly a fifty-fifty chance. 

“Shall we get started?” the professor asks. “I’m still waiting on my TA, Byun Euijoo, with the sheets of the first assignments, but we can start with a round of introductions, right?”

If you asked Nicholas honestly, he would much rather eat his old paint-splattered hoodie than give a fun fact about himself, but he knows that he does not have much of a choice in this scenario. The teacher goes first. His name is Kim Jiwoong, and he’s hip enough that he’s fine with the kids calling him by his first name, and his fun fact is that he was once scouted to become an idol trainee. Nicholas cannot fathom choosing numbers over everything that the idol life has to offer, but who is he to judge? His chosen profession involves him repeatedly stabbing himself in the pads of his fingers with his needle. 

A handful of students introduce themselves, words and names going in one ear and exiting the other, and then Nicholas’ turn is next. Before he can speak, though, the door at the front of the room opens with a bang, the handle slamming into the wall with an almost breakneck speed. Nicholas actually winces at the sound, and so do most of the students sitting around him. 

In steps what must be the teacher’s assistant, Euijoo . Nicholas looks at him, looks away, and then immediately looks back, this time with intent. Euijoo’s taller than Nicholas would have expected, and moves with the grace of a puppy that has grown into his limbs overnight and still can’t quite decide on where to put all of them, bumping into the lectern as he walks towards the professor. His hair is styled into a quite frankly atrocious bowl cut, and tapioca pearl eyes peer into the class from behind rectangular, thick-rimmed glasses, giving him the air of a vaguely confused goldfish. Most of the lines of his body are hidden below the chunkiest sweater vest despite the already pleasant weather, and to top it off, he is wearing chinos.  

Nicholas doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anyone more. 

“Sorry about that,” says Euijoo, blushing all the way to the tops of his ears as he places the papers he’d been carrying underneath his arm next to the syllabi. Then he clears his throat and bows, half at Kim Jiwoong and half at the class. Nicholas vaguely considers bashing his head against his desk. 

Kim Jiwoong looks vaguely amused but waves Euijoo away. “All good. Now, where were we?” He peers around the room through narrowed eyes.

Nicholas’ arm shoots up so fast he nearly whacks himself in the head, preening when Euijoo’s gaze also slides towards him. “I’m Nicholas Wang,” he says, unable to help the way his voice drops down into his lower register, as if he is purring out the words. “I’m originally from Taiwan, and I look forward to taking the lovely class of Statistics this semester.” 

“That makes me very happy to hear, Nicholas-ssi,” says Kim Jiwoong, and moves on to the next student. 

But Nicholas is already not paying attention anymore, his chin balanced on his hand as he gazes towards the front of the class. Euijoo appears to be fucking around on the teacher’s work laptop, perhaps pulling up slides or something, and he’s not really doing anything groundbreaking, but Nicholas still has to swallow just looking at him. If Harua was here to watch him, he’d surely make fun of Nicholas, so it’s good that the kid is not present. 

The rest of the class passes like that. Nicholas collects the syllabus and assignment sheet as they’re passed to him, looks down at the rows of numbers and decides that this will be a problem for a later and probably much more annoyed Nicholas, and spends the entire two hours looking at Euijoo. 

Nicholas has eyes, okay? And needs. Currently, all of those needs spell out two words, three syllables. Byun Euijoo. Nicholas is so going to seduce him. The guy won’t even know what hit him. All of a sudden, the next semester of Statistics doesn’t seem so daunting, not if he has someone like Euijoo to keep him company. 

--

“I am in love,” Nicholas announces, as soon as he steps in through the door of their apartment.

Harua is curled up on the couch with a massive psychology book in his lap, good old reliable Harua, who is either in their apartment or has fallen off the map completely. He barely looks up when Nicholas steps into the room and kicks off his shoes, just hums low in his throat. “Congratulations on infatuation number forty-seven since I’ve known you.” 

Rude. Nicholas pouts. “It’s for real, this time.”

“Sure,” Harua says, still not looking up. He has the gall to whip out a highlighter from thin air and underline one of the paragraphs in the book he is reading, as if his actual coursework is more important than Nicholas’ love life. Very rude. 

“It’s almost like you don’t care about me,” Nicholas says, fitting himself into the sliver of space between Harua’s feet and the end of the couch, poking the kid in the ankles so that he has no choice but to pay attention. 

Harua looks up from underneath his fringe and raises one eyebrow. “Noo,” he says, voice void of any infliction. “How did you possibly come to that conclusion?”

Nicholas dials up the pout. “I come in bearing fresh from the press, piping hot gossip, and all I get in return is made fun of by my favourite dongsaeng.” He throws himself back against the couch, letting out a loud whine. “Is this the state of the world? Is this why I buy you snacks whenever your stash runs low? Is this why I invite Maki to the apartment so that you can ogle at him?” 

Sighing, Harua puts away his book and sits up straighter to look at Nicholas. “Alright then,” he says, like it physically pains him. “Who has caught the attention of the fickle Wang Yixiang this time? And also, I don’t ogle Maki. I look at him. Respectfully.” 

“You so ogle,” says Nicholas, with a roll of his eyes. Then he smirks, exactly in the way he knows Harua hates. “And anyway, I thought you would never ask. Let me tell you about the love of my life—also known as the TA of my Statistics class, the one and the only Byun Euijoo. Remember that name, Haru-chan, for you will be hearing it much more often over the next few weeks.”

“I can’t wait,” says Harua, and Nicholas will be a good friend and ignore the way the younger sounds totally sarcastic. 

Instead, he opens his mouth and starts talking about Euijoo.

--

Next Friday can’t come soon enough. If anyone would have told the Nicholas from even two weeks ago that he would actually be looking forward to his Statistics class, he would’ve laughed right into their face. Alas, the Nicholas from today wears his most flattering clothes—his top cut just above his jeans so that it shows off a flattering strip of his skin, and his favourite belt weighing down the already low cut of said jeans so that they sit precariously on his hip bones. He even took care to fluff up his blond mullet so that his hair compliments the sharp cut of his jaw, and has smudged his eyes with a bit of smokey eyeshadow. Some people—Harua—would call him pathetic and a tryhard. Those people just don’t appreciate the concept of putting in effort.

Anyway, Nicholas arrives at the classroom a healthy five-to-ten minutes early. Closer to ten minutes, actually, but he’s not enough of a nerd to admit that as readily. He has filled in the assignment sheet from last week’s class with the help of his good friend Google, which is superior to Naver in every single way, and slaps the paper down on the processor’s desk triumphantly. Kim Jiwoong looks at him, vaguely amused, but just nods his head at Nicholas in greeting. 

There aren’t that many students present yet, seeing as it is quite early still, which gives Nicholas ample opportunity to choose a perfect spot for Euijoo-observing. He sits down in the middle of the classroom about three rows up from the bottom, which means that he’ll be able to look at Euijoo no matter where he’ll sit down and it’ll still look like he’s paying attention to the lecture. 

Nicholas snaps to attention when Euijoo enters the classroom. He is in another chunky vest, this time with a horrendous paisley pattern, and Nicholas actually has to bite on his lip so that he doesn’t sigh out loud. The girls behind him aren’t as strong, apparently, immediately putting their heads together to whisper frantically with each other. Nicholas knows that Euijoo is hot, but that doesn’t mean that other people have to comment on it quite as loudly. He manages to keep himself from turning around to glare at them, but it’s a close thing. 

“I want to start off this class by saying that I won’t be present at my usual Tuesday office hours next week,” Kim Jiwoong says, his hands linked behind his back as he peers around the mostly-filled classroom. “Instead, Euijoo will be in my office from two to four PM to answer any questions that might crop up with regards to this week’s assignment, so feel free to drop by.” 

Perfect! Nicholas perks up in his seat and scribbles down the time and location in his agenda, adding DATE WITH EUIJOO with about twenty hearts around it. Normal person behaviour, clearly. 

The class slides past Nicholas again like oil, but that doesn’t really matter. He’s already gotten the most important information out of this class, and everything else that he picks up is just secondary. As it stands, he will probably just barely scrape by in this subject, which will be kind of a stain on his perfect records but isn’t the end of the world, but that just means he can focus all of his attention on the most important thing: seducing Euijoo. 

Currently, this class has already been a success, because Euijoo had taken one look at Nicholas, making brief but charged eye contact, and had walked into the professor’s desk, full frontal collision. He’d been more flustered afterwards than can just be expected after getting a little embarrassed. 

It’s going to be a fun semester. 

--

Despite the fact that Nicholas would really like it to be the contrary, he can’t spend the entirety of his days obsessing over Euijoo. It’s only the second week of classes again, but he’s already swamped by various assignments, so he drags Harua and Maki to the library so that they can peer pressure him into actually studying. Since there’s nothing they like more than ganging up on him together, even though they can’t string together more than two sentences when they’re left with just the two of them, it’s quite frankly a perfect construction. 

Nicholas manages to finish an assignment and finalise three sketches over the weekend, and then treats himself to a nice stalking-not-stalking session on Sunday night. It’s not really stalking if you’re just interested, right? So far, the only information Nicholas has managed to find is that Euijoo has a locked Instagram account, boomi0907, which Fuma apparently follows. What the fuck? Why didn’t he tell Nicholas that he knows Euijoo? Does he hate Nicholas?

Tuesday rolls around before Nicholas knows it, and the various reminders he’s installed on his phone blare at him that his DATE WITH EUIJOO ♡ is only fifteen minutes away. Sadly, he has a class that ends just before the office hours start, so he has to rush across campus to actually be on time. He probably looks ridiculous, leather satchel beating rhythmically against his hip, but that’s just what one does for love. 

There are already two girls waiting in front of the office, their assignment papers clutched in their hands, but one flat look from Nicholas has them scrambling out of his way, even as they scowl at him. Ah, sometimes having a prime resting bitch face really comes in handy. 

Like the winner he is, Nicholas breezes past the girls to knock on the door at two on the dot, and Euijoo’s voice drifts out from inside. “Come in!’

Biting down on his lip, Nicholas shuffles inside, and then immediately closes the door behind himself again. He has to make sure that Euijoo doesn’t see that there are other people waiting outside as well, so that he won’t do anything silly like invite them inside too. This is meant to be the time between Euijoo and Nicholas only, thank you very much. 

“Ah, Nicholas-ssi,” says Euijoo, raising his eyebrows. “What can I help you with?”

He had remembered Nicholas’ name! Nicholas kind of half-walks, half-skips towards the desk, where Euijoo has seated himself behind, stacks of books with dazzling titles surrounding him. Nicholas doesn’t look at them for too long for fear of experiencing sudden and debilitating hot flashes. “Hiya, Euijoo-ssi,” he says, tucking a piece of his fringe behind his ear. “Funny catching you here.”

Euijoo stares at him, lost. “These are the regularly scheduled office hours for Jiwoong-ssaem’s class?”

“Right!” Nicholas chortles at the other and then folds himself into the chair on the other side of the desk from Euijoo. This is the closest he’s been to Euijoo so far, and he hopes his nerves don’t show on his face. “I’m just really grateful that you’re willing to take over ssaem’s office hours. He must be so happy that you’re his TA.”

Impressively, Euijoo manages to go completely red in point-oh-three seconds. It’s so completely charming that Nicholas is temporarily lost for words, his tongue a heavy weight in his mouth. “Ah, Nicholas-ssi,” he says, demurely. “It’s just my job.” 

“And it’s a job you do so well,” coos Nicholas. He places the assignment sheet on the desk in front of him but barely pays any attention to it. “How did you even get the job, anyway? You barely look older than me.” 

With the grace of a baby deer, Euijoo brings up his hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes as wide as they can be behind those ridiculously thick glasses of his. “I’m just doing it on the side. I guess you could call it a part time job? I graduated high school a year early, so I’m currently in my final year, but there isn’t much more to do other than writing my thesis. So, I’m doing this too. It’ll also look good on my resume later. And I know that Statistics isn’t the favourite subject of a lot of students, but it’s rewarding to see them grasp a concept that seemed so abstract at first.” 

Handsome and smart? How much more attractive can a man get? Nicholas really needs to stake his claim fast, before 

“Riveting,” says Nicholas, trying to sound actually attentive and not like he was trying to figure out what the shade of Euijoo’s lips would’ve been called if their natural colour was to be turned into lipstick. So far, he’s settled on either Coquette or Wet Dream. He wonders if Euijoo would taste as good as he looks. 

“I get the feeling you’re not really here to talk about Statistics, Nicholas-ssi,” Euijoo points out, bravely. 

Nicholas gasps at him. “No way, Euijoo-ssi,” he says, widening his eyes. “Who wouldn’t be interested in the wonderful concepts of—” He wracks his brain for the things they’ve been talking about in class. “—probability distributions and hypothesis testing?” 

Euijoo gives him a disbelieving look, but is too kind to call Nicholas out on what is quite clearly literal bullshit. Nicholas just gives him one of his winning smiles again. He is pleased to note that Euijoo does seem to kind of melt a little bit in the face of it, his eyes softening. It’s nice to know that the guy isn’t as resistant to Nicholas’ charms as Nicholas had worried he would be. 

“Anyway,” Nicholas says, quite loudly. “You wouldn’t refuse to help one of your students with what is clearly an assignment from hell, wouldn’t you?” 

“It really is a simple—” Euijoo cuts himself off and shakes his head, his fringe dancing around like he is a little curly-haired puppy. He sighs, takes his pen out of the stupid pocket of his stupid button-up shirt (and Nicholas is really doing his best not to pop a spontaneous boner here) and starts explaining the assignment to Nicholas how one would probably explain it to a toddler. Nicholas does not mind. Apart from the fact that Euijoo is actually explaining it in such a way that he understands what is being asked of him, he also talks with his hands, which are ridiculously pretty, if kind of adorably small. 

When Euijoo finishes his explanation and looks at Nicholas, all big eyes and pouty mouth, Nicholas has to pinch the inside of his wrist so that he doesn’t spontaneously get down on one knee and either propose to Euijoo or offer him a blowjob—whatever comes out of his mouth first. And then he realises that Euijoo is talking to him.

“Did you understand that, Nicholas-ssi?” Euijoo is saying as his voice swims into Nicholas’ consciousness again. “Or should I run that by you once more?” 

While Nicholas would love to take up more of Euijoo’s time, it’s not fair to the girls outside, who have probably been waiting for a while already. He lets out the smallest of disappointed sighs and looks at Euijoo from underneath his lashes. “I got it,” he says, though he can’t completely keep the regret out of his voice. “Thank you so much for the help, Euijoo-ssi.” And then, in a daring move, he reaches across the desk and squeezes Euijoo’s wrist in thanks. 

Euijoo looks down at their point of contact and swallows heavily. Nicholas can see the bob of his throat, and that just causes him to fixate on Euijoo’s lovely, long neck. His skin is really very smooth and so gorgeously caramel. Nicholas wonders how it would feel to—

“It’s nothing,” Euijoo says, snapping Nicholas out of his thoughts. “But I’m glad I could help you out, Nicholas-ssi.” He looks over Nicholas’ shoulder, the attractive corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “Can you tell the girls waiting outside that they can come in when you go outside? I’ll apologise for keeping them waiting.” 

“Alright.” Nicholas ducks his head in acknowledgement, his heart skipping a beat. Had Euijoo noticed after all that there were other people waiting . . .? He hadn’t appeared to be rushed when he’d been helping Nicholas. 

Wishful thinking, perhaps.

He turns around before he leaves, looking at Euijoo over his shoulder. “I hope you’ll take more of Jiwoong-ssaem’s office hours,” he says, honestly. “I think I understand it a lot better when you explain it to me.” And then he leaves before Euijoo can reply.

Nicholas steps outside and raises one eyebrow at the two girls, who immediately start scowling at him again. “Your turn,” he says, victoriously. 

“Could you have taken any longer?” one of them hisses, venomously, pushing past him.

He just smirks. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, darling,” he drawls, and then leaves before the door falls shut behind them, catching the tail end of Euijoo’s bright welcome! But it doesn’t sound as cheerful as when he’d told Nicholas to come in, and that’s not just Nicholas projecting his desire onto the situation. 

All in all, Nicholas would call it a successful first session (office hours? date?) with Euijoo. 

--

Not that Saturday but the next one, they have the monthly family brunch, which means that Fuma and Yūdai take them all out for food because they’re adults with an adult job and adult money, and the rest of them are poor university kids barely scraping by. For Nicholas, it isn’t like he doesn’t have the money, but it’s more of a case of remembering to eat in between his classes and his studio sessions and his hours spent pining over Euijoo—all as important as the others. 

Sadly, Euijoo hadn’t been in class two weeks ago, but he’d been there yesterday, much to Nicholas’ delight. Fair’s fair, and Nicholas actually understands Kim Jiwoong’s explanation a lot more when most of his brain cells aren’t busy with looking at Euijoo and imagining their future together, but the class is a lot more fun when Euijoo is there. At least Kim Jiwoong had announced that Euijoo would be taking his office hours again next Tuesday, even if the assignment he’d given them for next week was absolutely atrocious. Another moment for Nicholas to make his advances on Euijoo under the guise of getting better at Statistics. 

Nicholas is the last one to arrive at their favourite brunch spot. As soon as he spots Fuma, neatly curled up in the booth next to Yūdai, he gasps and points at the older man. “You absolute traitor!” he howls. Several people at the tables around them swivel their heads around to look at them, curiously, but Nicholas barely pays them any attention, just stomps closer to the table, like a man on a warpath. 

Fuma looks at him, lost. “Excuse me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you know Byun Euijoo?” says Nicholas, gesturing with his hands. “Do you hate me? Did you really mean to deprive me of the love of my life for so long?” 

“Oh dear,” Yūdai says, delicately, cleaning the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Is our dearest Nico-kun infatuated with someone again? Haru-chan, which number do you reckon this is? Forty-six or forty-seven?” 

Nicholas just lets out a wordless sound of frustration and throws himself down onto the empty seat.

“Credit where credit is due,” Harua says, his mouth full. “Nico-kun has been obsessed with the guy for the last four weeks already. It must be a new record.”

“It’s not obsession!” says Nicholas, stamping his foot on the ground. “Euijoo is the love of my life.”

Across the table, Fuma looks at him, his eyebrows drawn together. “You really like Euijoo?” he asks, characteristically serious. He grimaces, clearly searching for the right words. “Euijoo is not really the type of guy you normally go for, is he?” 

Nicholas huffs and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What even is a type, Fuma-kun?” he asks, smartly. “And Euijoo is quite possibly the prettiest person I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” 

“Prettier than BTS Taehyung?” Maki says, curiously.

Prettier than— Nicholas weighs the two options really seriously, sinking low in his seat as he thinks. He must go silent for too long, for his friends send each other mystified looks across the table, all wide eyes and impressed tilts to his mouth. “Possibly,” he says, at last. “But it’s not really fair on Taehyung-hyung, since I don’t know him personally.” 

Maki whistles between his teeth. “I shudder to say it, but he sounds really serious about this.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Nicholas scowls at the younger. 

“Nothing!” says Maki, but he sounds a bit too chipper for Nicholas’ liking, which probably means that he is lying. Nicholas would look into it deeper if he actually cared. 

Instead, he turns to Fuma to cast his best pleading eyes at the older. “What can I do to convince you to give me Euijoo’s number?” He puts his pointer fingers together, pushing out his bottom lip. “I promise that I’ll treat him really well.”

Fuma gives him a vaguely nauseated look. “Don’t pull that face,” he says, gruffly. His eyes soften. “I can’t give you Euijoo’s number without his permission. But if you like him that much, you can just ask him yourself, you know? I hate to say this, but you’re kind of a catch, you know?” 

Sulky, Nicholas curls his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t know how to talk to pretty men,” he grumbles.

“And yet you can talk to me?” Yūdai puts his hand on his chest. “You wound me.”

Harua raises one hand like he is going to ask a question, then just barrels onward before anyone gives him permission to speak. “Didn’t you go to the office hours that one time that he was subbing in for Kim Jiwoong-ssaem? And aren’t you going to do that again next week?” 

Nicholas regrets ever telling him anything. “That’s different,” he says, voice whiny. “That’s, like, a professional setting.” 

“Nicholas-kun knows how to be professional?” says Maki. “Pressing X to doubt right now.” 

“I hate you all so much.” Nicholas covers his eyes with his hands, grumbling into his palms. “I regret choosing you as my friends.” 

“You did not choose us,” Harua says, smartly. “You just kind of got stuck with us, like how you get a piece of gum stuck underneath your shoe, and you can’t get it off unless you put the shoe in the freezer. That’s how the best friendships are born.” 

Delicately, Yūdai leans across the table so that he can put his hand on Nicholas’ shoulder. “Listen, Nichol-chan, my dearest dongsaeng. If you really like this Euijoo so much, which is what it sounds like, just go to him and make your intentions clear. The worst he could do is reject you, which I really don’t think he would if you just act like your wonderful self.” Then he pushes the menu into Nicholas’ hand, which appears out of nowhere. “Now, please pick what you want for brunch. The waitress has been hovering for the last ten minutes, and I think she’s listening in on our conversation. And I really don’t want to have to explain myself again when I settle the bill later on.” 

--

The problem with making your intentions clear is making your intentions clear. Nicholas spends the rest of the time until Tuesday working on his assignments and worrying about facing Euijoo again. He actually tries to work on the assignment, so that he can at least look vaguely smart when he goes to the office hours, but it is absolutely hopeless. God, why did he pay so much attention to Euijoo and not as much attention to the class he was actually there to take. He doesn’t even know half of the terms staring back at him from the sheet. Groaning, he leans forward so that he can bump his forehead against his desk, then picks himself up again.

What do you do if you don’t know where to start? You go back to the beginning. Nicholas gathers all of his courage and walks to the STEM-library on the other side of campus, scanning himself inside with his student ID and walking toward the shelves a helpful library assistant had pointed out to him. His eyes slide across the planks stacked with books, his eyes narrowed as he hunts for the exact book he needs.

He spots it just when he’s about to give up, and of course, it is on the highest shelf. With a huff, he raises himself onto his tiptoes, but still his fingers only manage to scrape the bottom of the spine, not even enough to get some leverage on the book. He is just about to throw his dignity out of the window and jump for it, when—

“Do you need some help?” 

It is a vaguely familiar voice that calls out Nicholas, sounding amused. 

Nicholas spins around, refusal burning on his tongue and then extinguishing just as fast as he notices who is staring back at him. Euijoo is standing much closer to Nicholas than he had expected, easily reaching above Nicholas’ head and grabbing the book he’d almost been jumping to reach before. As he does, he shifts towards Nicholas even further, even though the other barely seems to notice the miniscule distance between their bodies, his eyes warm as he looks down at the book. 

God, how can someone as pretty as Euijoo exist? His hair is a bit fuzzy today, curling up at the ends not unlike a poodle, and his glasses are round, which somehow brings out the roundness of his eyes even more. Nicholas thinks he could drown in those big, brown eyes, especially as they tilt up to look at Nicholas curiously. Even the patch of stubble on his chin he must’ve missed while shaving is charming to Nicholas, a smidge of humanity and human error, the skin underneath that flawless and caramel. He smells vaguely of some kind of citrus fruit, perhaps tangerines. 

“Fundamentals of Statistics?” Euijoo says, and hands the book to Nicholas. Surely he must notice now how close they are? Surely? But all he says is, “I really like this book. The author explains everything so clearly.” 

“Just preparing for tomorrow,” Nicholas whispers, as if Euijoo is looking for an explanation, clutching the book to his chest. He takes a tiny step backwards and immediately bumps into the shelves behind him, noticing with a nervous swallow that Euijoo is kind of caging him in completely. If he wanted to leave and Euijoo wouldn’t move, he’d surely have to brush past the other. 

“Tomorrow?” Euijoo raises one eyebrow, and then understanding blooms on his face, his head tilting to the side. “The office hours?”

Nicholas nods, blinking rapidly so that his eyes don’t wander down to where their bodies are only mere centimetres apart. He thinks that, if he were to breathe too deep of a breath, that the bottom of his own hoodie would surely kiss the fabric of Euijoo’s horrific knitted sweater. 

Gay! the little voice in his head chants. Nicholas stomps it down. 

A small smile stretches across Euijoo’s face, making him kind of look like a gleeful fish. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Nicholas-ssi.” And then he is gone, as quickly as he came, leaving Nicholas rooted in place.

Heaving dramatically, Nicholas allows himself to collapse against the shelves, ignoring the way the pointy books dig into his spine. Who knew that Byun Euijoo has game?

--

Nicholas works on the assignments he has to take as part of his actual major the entire night, pinning swathes of fabric in place on his mannequin and then starting over when he hates it. It feels like barely any time has passed between when he allows himself to fall into bed and when he peels open his eyes again the following morning. Harua clicks his tongue at Nicholas in disapproval from where he is sitting at their breakfast bar when he sees the older boy’s state the following morning, but Nicholas knows that he means well and worries about Nicholas. He’s never slept well, is the thing, but he sleeps even worse when he is worrying about his deadlines. Finishing what he needs to do, even if it’s deep into the morning when he does so, has the added benefit of making him tired enough that he actually sleeps as soon as he lies down, instead of tossing and turning for ages first.

“I know, I know,” Nicholas grumbles, whisking his matcha powder and hot water together with measured movements. “Just give me some time to acclimatise to being awake before you scold me.” 

“I would never scold you,” says Harua, like the liar he is. “I just worry.” 

Sighing, Nicholas pours his matcha over the glass of soy milk and ice cubes he’d already put out and sticks in a bamboo straw, taking a long drag from the drink. “No need,” he says, though he smiles at the kid to show that he isn’t angry. “These are just stressful times. When I finally hand in this stupid project proposal, my workload is going to halve for at least the next two weeks.” 

“Fighting.” Harua puts up two thumbs. Two whole thumbs from what is probably the judgiest bunny on this side of the planet. Nicholas’ day already can’t get any better. 

Of course, he has to get back on those words when his eleven forty-five to one forty-five class ends and his phone cheerfully beeps at him to remind him that he has Euijoo’s office hours in fifteen minutes. Cursing, he packs his stuff in record speed and waves goodbye to his friends before he is sprinting across campus again. 

Maybe he’ll actually get fitter over this? Then Fuma will at least stop trying to bother him into going to the gym. He’s still kind of completely out of breath when he gets to the building with the teachers’ offices, but he is the first to arrive at the door. Take that, jealous girls from last time!

Euijoo’s muffled voice calls Nicholas inside when he knocks on the door. Nicholas has to take a deep breath to centre himself before he pushes inside, immediately coming face to face with—with—with—

Nicholas actually thinks he’s going to faint. The first thing he sees when he pushes into the office is the tiniest slope of the tiniest waist he’s ever seen in his life, two neat back dimples sitting above the waistband of a pair of chinos. It’s Euijoo, because of course it is, as he is stretching to rid himself of his sweater, the button up he is wearing underneath riding up with the movement. Who knew that he was hiding a waist so scandalously small underneath the chunky clothing he prefers? Nicholas knows he has big hands, long fingers and broad palms, and he could probably encircle most of it with his hands. Euijoo lets out a little pleased sigh as he finally manages to wrestle himself free from his sweater, and his waist remains on display until he reaches down to pull his button up in place again. It’s probably the most erotic thing Nicholas has ever seen in his life, and he has to press his legs together to hide the stirring in his pants. 

Smiling, Euijoo looks over his shoulder, clearly not noticing the distress signals Nicholas is sending out to whatever higher deity might be listening to him. “Sorry about that,” he says. “It’s a bit too hot for the sweater today.” 

He sounds so innocent that Nicholas can’t even fault him for it, even if he’s still scrambling to find his voice. “Don’t worry about it,” he manages at last, clumsily. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Euijoo says, sitting down behind the desk again. “I was hoping the book you picked up yesterday hadn’t scared you off too much. I know it starts off kind of easy, but the difficulty does ramp up after a few chapters.” 

Pleased, Nicholas casts round eyes at Euijoo. “You thought about me, Euijoo-ssi?” 

As expected, Euijoo goes from composed to bright red in an impressively short timespan. He stumbles over his words. “Well—um, professional interest, of course. Ha ha. It is part of my job to care about the wellbeing of my students. That includes thinking about whether the assignments me and Jiwoong-ssaem are doable. Especially since this is only a Statistics 100 course, so it does need to actually challenge you, but we don’t want to make it too difficult, so that you feel totally hopeless—”

“I’ve only read the first few chapters so far,” Nicholas says, before Euijoo can really put his foot in his own mouth. “Of the book, I mean. I like it, but I’m not the fastest reader. Korean is my third language, so.”

Euijoo’s gaze softens. “It’s even more impressive that you’re here, then. You said you’re from Taiwan, right?”

Nicholas nods, a warm flutter in his chest that Euijoo had remembered. “Half of my family lives in the United States, so I used to spend my summers there. You throw in a kid with a bunch of people that only speak English and he’s kind of forced to adapt and learn the language. Though I wouldn’t say I’m, like, natively fluent.” 

“I only speak Korean and rudimentary Japanese, so you definitely have me beat.” 

“Japanese?” Nicholas raises his eyebrows, intrigued.

Huffing, Euijoo rolls his eyes. Nicholas is pleased to notice that he has kind of relaxed into the conversation, his body language open. “I’m not even close to fluent, but my best friends are both Japanese, so it just rubs off, you know?”

“Cute,” says Nicholas, before he can stop himself, and then scrambles. At least he didn’t say anything like you can rub off on me too. “My friends are all Japanese too, so samesies? I mostly know Japanese swears, though.”

“That’s how everyone starts.” Euijoo’s voice is so amused that Nicholas is sure that the other is the same. He gestures at Nicholas, clearly back in professional mode once more. “So, did you bring the assignment, then? Let’s go over the parts that you’re stuck on, and I’ll see how I can help you without giving away too much.”

Nicholas digs through his bag and hands Euijoo the sheet, who looks down at it and hums. “You’ve gotten pretty far,” he says, causing Nicholas to puff up his chest excitedly. “But I understand why you’re stuck here. We’ll start from the beginning, alright?”

The time passes just like that, with Euijoo’s voice washing over Nicholas as he gently guides Nicholas through the exercises he’s struggling with. When Nicholas fills in the final answer all by himself, Euijoo makes a triumphant noise, looking at Nicholas with a warm gaze. It causes Nicholas’ stomach to do flips over itself in his chest. 

“Well done, Nicholas-ssi,” he murmurs. “I knew you’d get there in the end.” 

Swallowing, Nicholas lowers his head. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Euijoo-ssi.” He leaves, but the longing in his throat remains. 

“You again,” one of the girls waiting outside the door hisses when Nicholas steps outside. 

Like the child he is, Nicholas sticks his tongue out at her. “You have to be faster than this to beat me,” he says, smugly, and then shoulders past her, out of the building. There is a spring to his step and the sun warms the back of his head. What a great day!

It is only when Nicholas is on his way back to the apartment that he realises he totally forgot to ask Euijoo out for real. Dang it. He’ll just have to try again next time. 

--

Nicholas falls asleep face first into a swath of fabric on the floor of his bedroom, only awoken by Harua shaking his shoulder and peering down at him worriedly. He stares up at the younger through swollen eyes, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts to figure out why Harua is staring down at him with such a severe expression on his face. 

“I thought you would have a better workload after that project proposal,” Harua says, disapprovingly. 

Smacking his lips, Nicholas rolls onto his side so that he can give the other his best nothing-is-wrong expression. “I got some comments on the sketches,” he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders despite the fact that he is completely horizontal. “So, I have to redo parts of the final designs. You know how it is.”

Harua huffs. “Is this the asshole teacher that hates you for no reason at all?”

“The reason is that he is homophobic as fuck and I’m too gay and too good of a designer for him to kick me out of his class,” Nicholas corrects him. “Sadly, the guy is also one of the most prominent teachers in the entire department, so I just kind of have to suffer through it.” He gives Harua a small smile when the younger still seems miffed. “This is the last semester I will have his subject. After these weeks, I’ll be done, alright?”

“If he makes you suffer again, I’m going to kill him,” Harua says, his face so serene that Nicholas has no doubts that he means it. 

He awkwardly pats the younger on the leg. “There, there. No violence unless it’s absolutely the last resort.” Then he rolls onto his stomach again so that he can curl his legs below himself and push himself into a wobbly standing position. “I’ll head to bed now. Thank you for waking me and sparing me from having a horrible backache tomorrow.”

“I’d do it again,” says Harua, and then hugs him, brief but fierce. “But make sure it doesn’t happen again. Or finally get your head out of your arse and confess to that Byun Euijoo so that he can be the one that has to make sure you don’t hurt yourself for your passions.” 

Nicholas pouts at him. “Don’t make it seem like I’m totally helpless!”

Harua just gives him a long look, then shakes his head. “Go to bed, Nicholas-kun. God knows that you could use a good sleep.” 

Somehow, Nicholas manages to do exactly that. He does dream about Euijoo, stretching his arms towards Nicholas. His hands are very soft and very small. Nicholas wakes up with a smile on his face and an energy he did not know he could possess, ready to face the day. 

--

See, the Statistics classes are not the perfect moment to confess to Euijoo. First of all, there’s just too many other students around. And those stupid girls still haven’t stopped making moon eyes at Euijoo, even though Nicholas is way prettier and way better of a candidate than any of the stupid first years. Finally, there’s Kim Jiwoong, which makes sense since it’s his class, but Nicholas is not going to ask Euijoo out where the guy can hear or see them, no thank you. The Friday afternoon class at least still is the once-a-week certainty that Nicholas will see Euijoo, but they haven’t exchanged more conversation than polite greetings and the discussions in class that Euijoo leads and Nicholas tries to take part in. 

(And Nicholas did end up seeing Kim Jiwoong in a dingy Hongdae basement club when Yūdai had dragged him to go out and dance with him, twerking up against Kim Taerae of the dance department, who had seemed to be into it. At least they both have good taste.)

No, classes are a no-go. That would mean that Nicholas has to ask Euijoo during the office hours, wouldn’t it be the case that Kim Jiwoong has been taking all of his office hours lately, as he is meant to do, and Euijoo is probably waist deep into the thesis he’d been talking about. Seeing him still makes Nicholas want to swallow his own heart, but it does mean that there are almost no opportunities for Nicholas to actually do the thing he wants to do. Which is to ask him out.

Things come to a head not even during class or during office hours, but the campus fundraiser that Harua drags him to because Maki is part of it. He is raising funds for the Foreign Languages Club, lifting weights according to how much people donate, which is prime real estate for Harua to ogle at him with reason. Nicholas is a good friend and a great housemate, so he tags along. And not only to watch Harua as the younger tries to pretend he’s not interested in Maki, even if it’s kind of hilarious to Nicholas. Fucking tsundere. 

Nicholas drops Harua off at the FLC booth, dropping a handful of ten-thousand won bills into the glass bowl so that he can laugh at Harua’s face when Maki effortlessly lifts the weights. It’s totally worth the extra expense. 

After shoving Harua forward so that he has no other choice but to talk to Maki, Nicholas stuffs his hands into his pockets and wanders the festival grounds. Students wearing school merch are posted at every booth, and he gets sucked into a few—the booths where you can adopt a small plant from the horticulture club, the manga and comics club, the knitting and crocheting club. He’s so deep in thought as he walks past the booths that he doesn’t realise he’s walking into someone before it’s too late, his nose hitting a very well-built chest with an off. 

He scrambles to apologise, then realises that it is Yūdai whose hands are steadying him. “Hyung!” he chirps, excitedly. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dongsaeng!” Yūdai, effortlessly tactile as always, sweeps Nicholas up into a hug before he can protest, smacking a wet kiss against the crown of Nicholas’ hair. “I’m just here with Fuma-kun, who is here with Euijoo. Apparently they want to help some of the fundraisers.”

Nicholas perks up like the name is a pavlovian response. “Euijoo?” he says, breathily, wonderingly.

A knowing smile blooms on Yūdai’s face. “That’s right,” he says, dipping his head. “I left them behind a few booths away. Apparently there’s a Pokemonster club. They both got way too excited about it.” 

“That’s nice,” says Nicholas, politely. “Well, I have to go now. It was nice talking to you, hyung!”

Confused, Yūdai gives him a long look. “Where are you going?” 

This is it. This is the moment. Nicholas takes a deep breath and smiles at Yūdai, all polite. “I have to go find Euijoo-ssi now. I’m going to ask him out. For real.” He peers over Yūdai’s shoulder. “Where did you say you saw him last?”

Yūdai stops Nicholas with a hand on his arm, a gentle smile on his face. “Will you be careful with Euijoo’s heart, Nico-kun? He doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s fragile.” 

Nicholas pouts at the older boy. “You don’t have a lot of faith in me, Yūdai-hyung,” he sniffs. 

“I haven’t seen you this serious about a boy, well—ever.” Yūdai laughs, but it’s not unkind. “And Euijoo is not the type of boy you normally chase after. So, if this is something you’re super serious about, I want the both of you to be happy. Since my Fuma also cares about Euijoo-ssi, I also have to make sure you’ll be well together.” 

Clasping his hands in front of his chest, Nicholas looks at Yūdai, his most winning smile on his face. “I’m going to do my best to make him happy for as long as he’ll have me. Because it makes me happy to see him too.” 

“Good.” Yūdai gives his arm a squeeze, and then pushes him away. “Atta boy. Last I saw him, he was still at the Pokemonster booth. Go get your man!”

Nicholas salutes and then blows him a kiss, before turning tail and turning in the direction Yūdai had pointed him in. It isn’t that difficult to find the Pokemonster booth, colourful banners with the characters strung around, and Nicholas comes to a stop a few paces away, his hands on his hips as he catches his breath.

It is Fuma who spots Nicholas first, his eyes going all thoughtful, before his gaze slips back to Euijoo again. He seems to come to a conclusion, giving Nicholas a nod of acceptance, and then slips away into the crowd. 

For a bit, Nicholas just watches as Euijoo chats with one of the guys working the booth, an easy smile on his face. Even from a distance, he’s gorgeous, wearing a nicely form-fitting shirt for once and a pair of long shorts underneath, the tips of his ears blushed a charming pink in the heat. He turns around to say something to Fuma, and only then seems to realise that Fuma isn’t there anymore, his eyes going adorably wide. Confused, he spins around in a circle, like a puppy chasing his tail, before his gaze settles on Nicholas. Recognition blooms in his expression. 

“Nicholas,” says Euijoo, like a prayer, and the lack of honorifics is so refreshing that Nicholas wants to submerge himself in the feeling. He takes a brave step forward, and then another, so that they’re nearly toe to toe. 

“Go on a date with me,” Nicholas blurts out, before he can stop himself. “Euijoo-yah.” 

It is silent for the longest and most tense moment of Nicholas’ entire life.“That’s not a good idea,” Euijoo says at last, gently. “Not because I don’t want to. But because I am still the TA of the class you are taking and that does mean that I am in a position of power over you.” 

Nicholas pouts at him. Stupid Euijoo and his stupid princely complex. “But we are the same age. I even asked Fuma-hyung. And I’m not worried you’ll do anything untoward.” 

But Euijoo does not back down, giving Nicholas the tiniest of smiles. “How about this,” he says. “The final assignment is coming up, right? If you ace that assignment, at least ninety points or above, I’ll be the one to take you on that date.” He holds out his hand for Nicholas to shake. “Doesn’t that sound like a good motivation to do your best, Nicholas-ssi?” Of course, the added benefit is that, after that assignment is handed in, he won’t be Nicholas’ TA anymore. 

Determined, Nicholas reaches out and takes Euijoo’s hand, roughly shaking it up and down. “You got yourself a deal, Euijoo-yah,” he says, voice hoarse. “Prepare to lose.”

Euijoo steps closer, his eyes glittering. “If you do well, we’ll both be winners.”

--

The end of the semester hurtles towards Nicholas at breakneck speed. Of course, before the entire Euijoo debacle, Nicholas had been happy enough to scrape by in Statistics 100, but now he actually has to write the best paper that Euijoo has ever seen. He won’t settle for a ninety—only a hundred will do. Euijoo won’t even know what hit him. So, yes, that stupid, wonderful, horrible class gets added on top of his already impressive workload. At least he doesn’t have a runway class for this semester, because if he also had to find models on top of everything else he already has to do, he thinks he would actually cry. 

Harua still hovers in his periphery despite the fact that he’s actually managed to make up and make out with Maki, so he’s attached to the younger’s mouth more often than not. Nicholas swears that one time, Harua even managed to look disapprovingly at Nicholas stumbling into the living room freshly woken up at three PM without pulling away from where he was making out with Maki. It would be impressive if it wasn’t so damn annoying. Kids, man—you raise them, and what do you get back?

Still, Nicholas squats down in the library and finishes all of his essays, sleeps on the floor of his studio a couple nights to finish his last designs, and reads the entire Introduction to Statistics book so that he can work on his assignment for Euijoo. Or well, it’s technically for the class, of course, but mostly for Euijoo, if he’s being honest with himself. 

Kim Jiwoong is nice enough, but you see him twerk one time on another teacher and every spark of muted interest, if it already existed, just dies. 

And then, finally, fucking finally, Nicholas looks at his Statistics assignemnt and thinks, it’s not going to get better than this. So he reads it once more and then another time, tweaks a few more sentences and corrects some last typos, and then submits it. Immediately afterwards, he goes to Harua’s room, who is calmly and unhurriedly reading something at his desk, and just kind of wordlessly yells at him. Harua jumps about five feet into the air and then glares at Nicholas, though his gaze softens when he sees how proud Nicholas is.

“Finished?” he asks.

Nicholas nods and then walks into Harua’s room so that he can collapse into Harua’s bed, just kind of flopping forward like a frozen tuna. “I’m going to sleep for seventy-two years,” he announces, his voice muffled into the sheets as he refuses to turn his head to speak. At least the oxygen deprivation is giving him a nice kind of pseudo-high. 

It’s silent for a beat, and then the bed dips behind Nicholas. Harua’s hand settles on the back of Nicholas’ head, and if he were any more conscious, he’d be spluttering at how Harua is literally petting him like he is a cat. As it stands, he just hums and presses into the touch.

“Seventy-two years?” Harua echoes, amused. “How will you go on that date, then?”

Right. “Well, I’d better start soon, then,” says Nicholas, coming to a decision. “And maybe not sleep for as long. Maybe just twelve hours.” And then he snuggles forward, pleased. This bed smells very nice.

“Hey.” Harua pokes him in the side, soft at first and then increasing in intensity. “Nico-chan, you do realise this is my bed, yeah? Hyung? Nicholas?”

But Nicholas is already asleep, and does not care for little fairy-boys poking him in the side.

--

It takes about two weeks for Nicholas to get his grades back, along with the rest of the university students, two horribly long and drawn-out weeks. He barely sees Euijoo during this time, which makes sense as they existed in quite different social circles before the damned class that brought them together, and Euijoo is working on his thesis, but it doesn’t mean that Nicholas doesn’t miss him.

He could quite used to seeing Euijoo at least once a week. 

The first grade he gets back is from that stupid homophobic teacher. It’s a one hundred. Nicholas thinks he could cry. The man has given him begrudging praise, but it is praise, so Nicholas doesn’t even have it in him to gloat. He’s just so damn happy to be done with the subject. Afterwards, he gets the other subjects from his major back, which all range between a ninety-five and a one hundred, as he is used to receiving.

Of course, Kim Jiwoong waits for the longest time to log the grades. But it does appear, and Nicholas nearly breaks his phone when he gets the notification that the final grade has been uploaded. With shaking fingers, he navigates the online environment, and then clicks on the banner that tells him that he has one new grade. He opens it. 

A ninety-nine. And heaps of praise from Kim Jiwoong, who writes that the assignment is almost perfect, and that he had really seen a rising trend in the quality of Nicholas’ assignments during the semester. You’ve written something that you can be proud of. Bravo, Nicholas-ssi.  

FUMA-KUN, Nicholas texts Fuma as soon as the realisation hits, hitting the caps lock key in his haste and not even pausing to turn it off. I NEED EUIJOO’S NUMBER STAT. YESTERDAY. FOUR MONTHS AGO. And then, when Fuma doesn’t reply immediately, he just sends a line of exclamation marks. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Calm, Fuma texts back, a handful of minutes later. It doesn’t surprise me that you forgot to ask him. Here you go. And then he sends a saved contact. Nicholas could kiss him if he wasn’t going to kiss Euijoo. 

Or at least go on that damned date with him.

Nicholas opens the chat with Euijoo, the empty space still full of endless possibilities, and smiles down at it. He starts to type. Dear Byun Euijoo. This is your interested friend (?) Nicholas speaking to you. I just wanted to let you know that I have received my grade for the final assignment of Statistics 100 and I have received a ninety-nine. Please write back soon as possible to confirm whether you still want to go on that date. He stares down at the text, sweating, and then adds thnx at the end to make it more casual. He sends it before he can talk himself out of it again. 

Hiii nichol ^^, Euijoo texts back, only a brief moment later. That’s a lot of honorifics :)

Haha, writes Nicholas, dumbfounded. Of course, Euijoo is the type of person to use those cutesy emoticons. I guess I am just nervous. Why isn’t he responding to Nicholas’ very pressing question?

The response comes a minute later. Cute. I already knew your grade, of course, so I was just waiting for you to know it :) And of course I am looking forward to that date. Just let me know your availability. 

Would RIGHT NOW! be too dramatic? Probably. Damn it. 

I’m pretty flexible, Nicholas writes instead. In more ways than one, but he doesn’t think they’re quite at that stage yet. Just tell me when and I’ll be there. Ouagh, that’s probably too needy, but Nicholas’ traitorous fingers have already sent the text before his brain can catch up. Whatever. 

Euijoo does not take too long to reply. How about tomorrow night, then? I can pick you up at your place. A second text appears soon enough. I think we’ve waited for long enough, right?  

Right. Nicholas swallows, a smile breaking out on his face. I already can’t wait. 

See you tomorrow night then. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. Be ready ^^.

Nicholas sends back another confirmation along with his address, then throws his phone for real—into the pile of plushies stacked up at the foot of his bed, though, so that it doesn’t break, and then shouts into his hands. So loudly, in fact, that Harua comes charging into his room all panicked, asking Nicholas what is wrong. He calms down when Nicholas explains what is going on, first giving him the pissy eye for scaring him that much, then congratulating Nicholas on both the grade and the date. Nicholas is on cloud nine, and even Harua’s annoyance isn’t enough to bring him down. 

Now, he just needs an outfit. Before tomorrow night.

--

It turns out that Nicholas owns absolutely no clothes at all. Okay, that is a lie. Nicholas owns a lot of clothes—two whole closets full of them. But none of the clothes pass his test when he tries them on to wear on the date. Either the trousers don’t sit flattering, or the top just drapes weirdly, or the shoes are not comfortable enough. Sure, Euijoo appears to like Nicholas despite (and maybe because of?) the flashy outfits he always tends to wear, but the guy has his own, comfortable style, and Nicholas doesn’t want to stick out too much. He doesn’t even know what kind of date Euijoo is going to take him on. 

Maki is over to make out with Harua and do other things that boyfriends do—eugh—and so the two of them have a lovely front row seat to Nicholas’ crash out. Just great. 

“Just wear something you like,” Maki suggests, at last, kinder than Nicholas had expected him to be. “Euijoo-ssi likes you and he’s seen you in every type of outfit already, so just wear something that makes you happy, and it’ll show.” 

“But what if nothing makes me happy?” whines Nicholas.

Harua is unmoved. “Don’t be silly, Nico-chan.” And then he shoulders past Nicholas into his room again, pulling out a lovely top and jean shorts combo, the latter a combination with a draped half-skirt. It’s something Nicholas absolutely would have picked for himself, if this was just a normal Saturday night, and he hugs Harua until the kid complains about needing oxygen. Whatever. Can’t a guy be thankful? 

After shooing both Maki and Harua out of his bedroom, Nicholas showers (thoroughly) and then gets dressed. He dries his hair with the dryer and then styles it so that his fringe neatly frames his face, and slaps on some skin care. A good base is necessary for great makeup, after all. Harua does his eyeliner after Nicholas whines at him, and then Nicholas does the rest, neatly slipping into his clothes afterwards. He’s ready. He feels ready. 

The bell rings at six-thirty on the dot. Nicholas is so not ready. But Euijoo is here, and Euijoo is waiting for him, so he gathers his resolve and walks towards the door, sending Maki and Harua still tangled on the couch a look, warning them to behave. 

Cheekily, Maki salutes, and Nicholas doesn’t know how much he trusts him, but he has no time to call him out. Because he has already reached the front door, and he’s opening it, and there’s Euijoo. 

Nicholas’ breath catches in his throat. Euijoo is framed by the sun behind him, golden light falling onto his shoulders and his hair, curling down his neck and fringe feathering across his forehead. He’s wearing a thin, dark blue sweater with a V-shaped neckline, one of the buttons undone, with a leather corded necklace on top. Big, brown eyes glitter back at Nicholas when he just stares at him with his mouth dropped open like the dumbstruck idiot he apparently is. And that’s when Nicholas realises that—

“Euijoo!” he gasps, at last, which is not what he wanted to say. “Your glasses!” 

Embarrassed, Euijoo reaches up to touch the back of his neck, his cheeks pink. “Do you like it?” 

As it stands, he’s not wearing his glasses this time, which gives Nicholas an unobstructed view of his lovely eyes and gorgeous cheekbones and the soft swell of his cheeks. (Nicholas cannot die before he bites those cheeks at least once.) But back to the matter at hand.

“I like you in any way,” Nicholas says, at last, giving Euijoo a small smile. “Though this is very nice as well.” 

“Good,” says Euijoo, both relieved and pleased. “You don’t want to know how long it took to get these contacts in. I thought Yuma was surely going to kill me by the end of it, but we managed.” He grins at Nicholas. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Yup!” Nicholas quickly grabs his phone and wallet, waves at Maki and Harua, who are watching him like two little meerkats, and then follows Euijoo into the elevator and down to the lobby. 

Apparently, the first place that Euijoo had chosen for them is just a short walk away, so off they go, their shoulders knocking together every few steps as they both walk close to the other but aren’t brave enough to cross the gap and lace their fingers together yet. Euijoo takes Nicholas to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall abura soba restaurant, where there are four tables and about as many people present before they show up. But the food is incredible, and Euijoo is adorable as he slurps the noodles into his mouth, his cheeks bulging around the food. 

It turns out that Euijoo is unsurprisingly very easy to talk to. He and Nicholas talk about everything and nothing, from their families to their time on campus and the friends they’d made. Apparently, Euijoo had met Fuma when he’d been volunteering to teach Korean to newcomers, back in high school, and their friendship had remained strong over the years, especially since Euijoo ended up going to the same university Fuma had already attended. He’d met Jo and Yuma in his first weeks of classes, and that had been that. In turn, Nicholas talks about his friendship with Harua, who’d latched onto him like a leech the year before, and had brought with him Maki. Yūdai had been the senior who’d been assigned to show Nicholas around campus when he first arrived, as one foreigner to another, and that had been that in turn. Sometimes, Yūdai brings along his cousin Taki, who is another Riki, like Maki, but he’s studying abroad for the semester so he hasn’t been around. 

“This was lovely,” Nicholas says, as they file out of the restaurant again, pleased with himself since he’d won rock, paper, scissors and had been allowed to settle the bill. He’d totally ignored the way Euijoo had whined that it was him who was taking Nicholas out on a date, and so he should pay. Should’ve just won rock, paper, scissors then.

Euijoo looks at him from the corner of his eye and smiles. “You don’t think the night is over quite yet, right?” 

Nicholas raises his eyebrows, impressed, and then obediently tags along. The place Euijoo takes him next is a small gallery in an alleyway just off the beaten track, which mostly houses local artists. The current exhibition is by a fashion photographer and Nicholas very seriously weighs the pros and cons of proposing to Euijoo then and there. Love of his life and all that, and love for the rest of his life, if it’s up to Nicholas. But Euijoo probably wouldn’t take too kindly to that, even if he did go out of his way to find a gallery that combines all of Nicholas’ favourite things into one. They can work up to it. 

Hands brushing together, they walk through the gallery, and Nicholas gasps and oohs and aahs, so loudly that Euijoo laces their fingers together so that he can squeeze him instead, when he gets excited. He misses Nicholas’ triumphant smirk.  

As soon as they tumble out of the gallery again, flushed with happiness and joy, Nicholas turns to Euijoo, who is already looking back at him, their hands still linked between their bodies. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces, and does. 

Euijoo melts into the kiss like soft cheese, a small sigh falling from his lips, his small hands coming up to curl around Nicholas’ waist. He’s a good kisser, if a bit clumsy with eagerness, his lips plush and warm. Nicholas allows his tongue entrance as soon as he feels the press against the seam of his mouth, gasping when Euijoo strokes their tongues together, his hands flying up to grasp Euijoo’s shoulders so that he has some kind of anchoring point. 

Nicholas sends the other a sultry look from underneath his lashes as they both pull back to catch their breath, chests heaving. “How do you feel about putting out on the first date, Euijoo-yah?” 

Helplessly, Euijoo shrugs at him, his eyes the size of two moons. “I haven’t been on a whole lot of first dates,” he says, an honest admission. “But I don’t want to rush you . . .” 

Adoration bursting in his chest, Nicholas bops him on the nose, his eyes scrunching up in delight when he notices how Euijoo goes slightly cross-eyed to follow the movement. “Take me to your place, Euijoo-yah. I don’t put out on the first date either, but I’m willing to make an exception for you. So, yeah.” His tongue tangles around the words. “Consider me not rushed.” 

“God, Nichol.” Euijoo just has to kiss him again, apparently, his arm coming up to curl around Nicholas’ back so that their bodies can press together. When he pulls back, his eyes are hooded. “Let’s go.” 

Luckily for both of them, it’s not that far of a walk back to Euijoo’s apartment. Before Nicholas knows it, he’s pressed up against the inside of Euijoo’s front door as Euijoo fits his head underneath the curve of Nicholas’ jaw so that he can suck a mark in the space where Nicholas’ neck meets the corded muscles of his shoulder. He’s adorably mouthy, Euijoo is, which is both a surprise and not. Unassuming guys like him always are. 

Nicholas is just very happy that Euijoo doesn’t have any roommates. 

“Shall we try making it to the bedroom before you undress me?” Nicholas says, amused, when Euijoo pulls down the collar of his shirt so that he has more space to put his mouth. 

Euijoo grumbles but complies, nearly lifting Nicholas from his feet in his haste to get them to said bedroom, and then undressing Nicholas with focused movements. His eyes are dark with interest, a darker brown than normally, the pupils almost eclipsing the irises. Nicholas thinks he’s always hot, and that’s not a lie, but this is a special kind of hot. Molten arousal sits low in his stomach, and he just has to curl his arm behind Euijoo’s shoulders as the other lies him down on the bed so that he can guide their mouths together again. The kiss is full of hot promise, but also eager excitement, two lovers with hearts beating in sync.  

“Get naked,” Nicholas tells Euijoo as they part, pressing his palm against the other’s chest so that he can put a bit of space between the two of them. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked. I want to see you too.”

Rolling his eyes, Euijoo does as he says, shucking his sweater and kicking out of his shorts. His pants come off last, and—

“Holy shit.” Nicholas’ eyes blow wide, his mouth dropping open into a perfect circle as he stares at the other. “How did I not know you’ve been hiding this monster schlong in your pants this entire time?” His mouth is watering just looking at it, and he swallows noisily. 

“Nichol . . .” Euijoo manages to look a perfect cross between mortified and aroused, his eyes casting to the heavens briefly, as if wondering what he did to end up here with Nicholas. 

Well, he better suck it up, because there’s no way that Nicholas is letting him go now. Nicholas quickly sits back on the bed and opens his legs, his cock heavy and hard where it lies against his abs. “I need you inside of me yesterday. If you’re not inside of me in like ten minutes I’m going to scream murder and your neighbours are going to worry. Do you want them to worry?”

“I get it, I get it,” Euijoo says, crawling up the bed so that he can kneel in between Nicholas’ legs, reaching over his body so that he can rummage in the drawer of his side table for the lube. “On the condition that you never call it a monster schlong again.”

“Just calling it how I see it,” grumbles Nicholas, but then agrees when Euijoo pinches the inside of his thigh. 

Euijoo takes more than ten minutes to open Nicholas up, but that’s only because it really is a sizable dick and Nicholas is kind of okay with not being split open completely. He’s a size queen, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to walk tomorrow. A bit of give and take. Euijoo’s fingers are on the shorter side, especially next to Nicholas’, but they’re kind of thick and he does know how to use them well. The angle also means that it’s easier for him to reach places inside that Nicholas just cannot hit by himself, so he’s absolutely not complaining. 

As Euijoo finally rolls on a condom and slips inside of Nicholas, one long tortuous, delicious press, he kisses Nicholas. The kiss distracts Nicholas from the sting, and before he knows it, Euijoo pulls away from the kiss so that he can drop his head down against Nicholas’ shoulder as he is completely seated inside. 

Fuck, Nicholas is getting fucked by Byun Euijoo. 

He can die happy now.

But now before actually getting his world rocked. Because that’s what Euijoo is trying to do, and he’s kind of succeeding at it too. Whoever said the thing about big-dicked guys not knowing what to do with all of that clearly has never met Euijoo, which Nicholas is happy about, since that means he gets to have Euijoo. And he is currently being ploughed into the bed, high-pitched moans and embarrassing whines falling from his lips as Euijoo curls one of Nicholas’ legs over his shoulder so that he can fuck deeper inside of Nicholas. He doesn’t think any of the guys he’s fucked before have managed to hit his prostate with this kind of precision. It kind of feels like this is going to end with him either dying or coming—whichever happens first. 

“Ha ha,” says Euijoo dumbly, stroking the inside of Nicholas’ thigh. “You really are flexible.”

Nicholas sputters, affronted. “That was supposed to be my joke.” 

“Too slow.” Euijoo kisses him again, so Nicholas doesn’t have any time to feel annoyed anymore, and then he is curling his hand around Nicholas’ dick and stroking him off in time with his thrusts. 

Way too soon or perhaps exactly at the time it is supposed to happen, Nicholas feels the knot of arousal tighten in his stomach. He heaves against Euijoo, and Euijoo seems to catch on without Nicholas having to say anything. The younger skates his palm across the head of Nicholas’ dick and grinds right up against Nicholas’ prostate, and then Nicholas is coming, a dumbfounded noise spilling from his mouth as he arches up into the other.

“Beautiful, Nichol, beautiful,” says Euijoo, and then he is coming as well when Nicholas clenches around him, gasping mouth leaving a wet smear against Nicholas’ collarbone. 

Euijoo pulls out amidst Nicholas’ whines and his attempts to keep him inside, saying something about oversensitivity. Such a gentleman until he’s not, really, and so uncaring of Nicholas’ desire to stay full and sated. But he does clean both of them up, wobbling to the bathroom and returning with a wet cloth so that he can rub them down, then tosses the cloth in the direction of his desk. Such a rebel. Nicholas really likes him a lot.

They lie down in Euijoo’s bed together, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. Despite the fact that it really isn’t late yet, and could be considered early when thinking of Nicholas’ average bedtime, he already feels sleep weighing down his eyelids. Snuffling, he fits his head against Euijoo’s shoulder. 

“Harua wanted me to get a boyfriend because I’m really bad at sleeping at normal times,” Nicholas says, all at once. “I know he worries about me. And I’m just saying that I am pretty bad at sleeping and that you might get annoyed with me, but that I am trying. So, you shouldn’t just be my boyfriend to tell me to go to bed, but that, if you want to be my boyfriend, you should know that situations like that will arise. So I just want you to be prepared for all that, and such.” He bites his lip. “Sorry, I just wanted you to know. But I really want to be boyfriend and boyfriend, though.” 

Euijoo reaches up and starts playing with Nicholas’ hair, a smile in his voice. “We can figure it out together, Nichol.” He kisses the top of Nicholas’ head. “And I would love to be your boyfriend. I look forward to being yours.” 

Yes, thinks Nicholas, as he falls asleep, a smile on his face. He is quite looking forward to it as well.