ephemera 一 baek dohwa.

xix

When the teacher announces for you to put down your pen at the end of your final exam on Friday, you feel nothing but relief and excitement.

You've arranged to meet up with your close friends straight away after school to celebrate with lunch together and then bowling.

Dohwa knows. You reassure him with an additional message that even though they're all guys, they'd rather date each other first than date you.

Tomorrow the entire day will belong to Dohwa.

But your friend group has been neglecting each other a lot in favour of studying, so it's time to socialise again.

It's also your birthday, and you're surprised that two out of the three of them have actually remembered. You receive a little Spirited Away themed music box which you adore, and a refillable pastel pink ring-binder notebook. It's something that you'll definitely use.

Your lunch is full of shits and giggles, and on your way out of the restaurant, Minchul actually gets shat on by a passing pigeon, which pretty much seals the mood.

You take the bus to a large shopping mall together, get kicked out of the cinema because Daesung isn’t old enough by two months to watch the movie you all wanted to see, play a few arcade games and then go to the bowling alley.

Being the academically-obsessed, competitive nerds you are, Taesuk brings up midterms, and so you begin to discuss and guess each other's scores and averages.

You lose sorely in bowling, but that's okay. You're not the one who chucked a ball backwards into the neighbouring lane.

Your cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

As you leave, the sky suddenly opens and a shower descends upon you. Your goodbyes are hasty and full of curses as you see your bus pull up just ahead.

When the entrance to your apartment complex comes into view, you're utterly taken aback to see Dohwa waiting there.

You break into a run the moment you recognise him. ‘Dohwa, you idiot!’ you scold. ‘What are you doing?’

He says nothing, leaning forward so that his forehead rests on your shoulder. His curls are matted dark by the rain. It doesn't matter that they're wet; you're both soaked to the skin, anyway.

‘You're drenched. How long were you here for?’

‘I don't want to stay five feet apart,’ he mumbles.

‘Midterms are over,’ you say, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek. ‘We can see each other now.’

He lifts his head at last, staring at you like a dejected puppy.

‘Let's go inside and get warm,’ you soothe.