THEY DON'T KNOW ABOUT US. winrina

O1: "Oh, It's You."

It's on a Tuesday night that Minjeong finds herself hunched over her study with her hands cramping as she tries to swiftly type in what's left to be written in her report. And by what's left, she means the damned references which have to be arranged in alphabetical order; by whose rule, she does not care and does not know. All she does know is that whoever it was that decided this is going to hell because she's definitely dragging them with her.

She's down to the fourteenth reference, and she smashes the space bar way too many times to be considered an accident but more of a solution to cope with stress, when she hears a loud guttural groan coming from behind her. She nearly jumps out of her skin and she realizes a little belatedly that it came from her roommate whose study is opposite hers.

Minjeong turns her head, throwing a bemused glance at the other girl. She doesn't say anything for a moment and watches as Yizhuo aimlessly rotates in her swivel chair, the spinning pen in her fingers serving as her current source of entertainment. Yizhuo looks bored, like she's beyond every other thing in the world. Minjeong can't help but to laugh at the foreigner's state.

That's when Yizhuo notices her. “What are you laughing at,” Yizhuo deadpans, glaring at her. To others, Yizhuo may look like an intimidating tigress. Though to Minjeong, who's known her for three years and has lived alongside her for two, Yizhuo is nothing but a harmless little kitty cat. Sure, she hisses but that's all she does. Yizhuo is purely all talk and no bite.

In response, Minjeong nonchalantly shrugs. “Nothing, nothing.”

Yizhuo's eyes turn into slits. “You don't laugh at nothing, Minjeong.”

“You just look funny,” Minjeong settles on saying. She returns to her report before Yizhuo can retaliate, and she basks in the sound of silence. And also the noise of Yizhuo's mental suffering. She doesn't think about it at first — the fact that Yizhuo keeps grunting and whining every two minutes — but overtime, Minjeong feels her brain itching because of it.

Eventually, Yizhuo shuts up.

Well, for a good ten minutes.

“Please shut up.” Minjeong grumbles when Yizhuo begins hitting her head against her desk repeatedly. One more and she thinks her head will explode; both hers and Yizhuo's.

“Try doing my work, Minjeong.”

She shakes her head, amused. “I'm not the one taking psychology. Why should I?”

Yizhuo glares at her. She can't see it but she can spiritually feel it. “Douche.”

“Look, if you're that worked up about your assignment,” Minjeong pauses to think about her next words. She does it in hopes of giving her dialogue some sort of dramatic effect, too. “Then why don't you just take a break? Go do something else, rest your brain for a sec, get some fresh air.”

“Is that what you do when you're stressed?” Yizhuo questions innocently. Minjeong feels the need to chuckle at Yizhuo's pure-sounding query.

Nodding, Minjeong continues. “Sometimes. I listen to music, too.”

A snort, and Yizhuo's reaching for her phone. “All you listen to is classical music, Minjeong. If I were to listen to classical music right now, I think I would combust from hearing the strings only.”

Minjeong gasps. “How dare you shit on classical music!”

“Can't shit on something when it's already shit to begin with.”

The last thing Minjeong remembers is throwing a pen at Yizhuo's head and hitting her square in the forehead, then she's walking on the sidewalk with a barely thick enough blue cardigan wrapped around her body, having left their dorm with the shitty excuse of ‘buying some snacks’ when in reality, she just wanted to avoid listening to the same damned pop songs over and over and over again.