SWEET TALKER

33

[MATURE]

Jungkook is the last person I expect to meet behind the isles at the library that afternoon. It is half past four as I lurk amidst the rows and rows of books - both old and new - in hopes of getting a head start on all the work I have clustering over my sea of assignments. My endeavours are tragically last-minute and I have no idea where I have to begin.

"A History of Fine Arts and Photography." I am mumbling the words under my breath, my fingertips caressing along the spines of every book in my line of vision as I hunt for the phrase.

I find it tucked away on the topmost shelf and then, my lips part in a triumphant smile as I reach for it.

Just as I stand on my toes and reach for the book, teeth gritty after clenching my jaws together in utmost conversation, I feel my balance dwindle and my feet shuffle to give away. A strangled cry leaves my throat and I ungracefully twist my ankle in the process of falling face front.

And that's when he walks into the absurd scenario that's holding me on ice.

I feel my soul leave my body when a pair of hands grasp onto my shoulder and waist, and my torso is yanked back into the intruder's front. I set loose a sigh of relief and the back of my shoulders slump into his hard chest,

"Did I die?" Are the first words I playfully articulate.

"Always so dramatic," Jungkook mutters passive-aggressively.

My eyes roll in indignation as I resume my venture.

"Have you seen Yawang at all, today?" my friend is running his fingertips along the spines of several books as he walks alongside me, spaced out.

I turn to him, "no. Why?"

"Nothing," Jungkook shrugs.

"Hey," I give up on my searching and turn to him, "don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"An insufferable twat."

"Does it annoy you?"

"Yes." I huff.

Jungkook smirks. "Good."

My eyes narrow, "a lot."

"Even better."

"Jungkook," I frown in seriousness, "what happened to Yawang?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Jungkook."

The tall man heaves words of profanity under his breath before turning to me, "she's been acting strange, is all that happened to Yawang, Rae."

"Strange in what sense?" I probe.

"In the sense that she hasn't been coming to class, having people run around the world to get her - you know - flower pots, and fucking avoiding all of us. She's ... agitated at the silly shit that Jimin says." Jungkook removes his cap to run his fingers through his soft, recently shampooed hair, "she got mad at him for joking about her grades. Said something like 'oh, you must've slept with Hoseok to scrape a pass.' and come now, we all know that's half the truth there - she is sleeping with her professor and it's been going on for weeks now."