romance is dead ❧ q.k | ✔

book one ❧ [iii]

Unfortunately, you couldn't immediately start your literal witch hunt the next day, as you had to take your Calculus exam. In fact, you had mostly forgotten your dilemma as you walked out of your classroom with Kunhang and Dejun, another friend of yours.

"How are you feeling, by the way, Y/N?" Kunhang checked in with you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. "No sudden urge to dicked down by a va—"

You elbowed him in the side, sending him stumbling off in one direction as he cackled. "I'm fine, thanks for your concern."

"What is he talking about?" Dejun raised an eyebrow, his slit pupils flicking between the two of you curiously.

"You really should've come to the study session last night, Dejun." Kunhang jumped to relay the story to the dragon.

Dejun had the decency not to full-on laugh at you, but you did see a couple puffs of smoke come out of his nose as he tried to hold back his chuckles. "Yangyang needs to store his potions more responsibly."

"Thank you!" You cried out, feeling vindicated.

"It seriously didn't work at all? I mean, I don't know what else was in there, but lover's embrace pollen and vampire blood... sure sounds like it should've done something," he mused aloud.

And that was when you sighed, "Well... it didn't work on me."

"And what does that mean?" Kunhang cocked his head to the side.

"Kun caught up to me after I left your apartment last night," you confessed with a wince. "Somehow he's the one that's suddenly in love with me."

"What?!" Kunhang grabbed your shoulder and shook you with equal amounts of disbelief and delight.

You swatted him away, "I don't know! But I'm going to find Yangyang and see what the little twerp has to say for himself."

"He should be getting out of Bot II in ten minutes." Dejun pointed to a building off to your right. "Try to leave him in one piece, Y/N."

"No promises."

Kunhang and Dejun both had other classes to get to, leaving you to wait in front of the Earth Sciences building alone, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

"Y/N, hello."

You spun around on your heel at the familiar voice, now face to face with deep red eyes and dark brown hair.

"Hey, Kun," you greeted him. He didn't seem as... unwell as last night. His crisp white button up was tucked neatly into his dark brown dress pants, and for a brief moment you wondered if he even owned casual clothes. Small gold earrings dangled from his lobes, glinting as they caught the dappled sunlight streaming in through the leaves above you.

Feeling hopeful, you asked, "So... how are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you for asking." He kept his gaze on you as the two of you conversed. "I'm not, uhm, feverish anymore."

"Oh, good," you breathed a sigh of relief. So everything was back to normal then.

"I wanted to give you this." In his hand was a folded piece of paper, and you accepted it from him curiously. It was crisp, fine quality, with a nice texture that you could feel as your fingers ran along the edges to unfold it.

Your eyes widened as you realized that he had just handed you a poem—a rather good one, if you were to be honest—written in an elegant script. After another quick skim just to make sure your reading comprehension was up to par, you knew that he didn't just want your feedback on an assignment for class or something. This was a sonnet, if your recollection of your literature class from last semester was any good, about you. For you.