swxtched. | jhs

THREE, who?

CLASSES HAVE ENDED, most students have left for cram school or a late dinner, and Green should've been walking home to shower and sleep.

But instead, she's in a private room in the library doing "mandatory yaja."

If there's anything to be positive about today, Green supposes that yaja is better than sitting in a disciplinary meeting with the headmaster of the school and explaining how she is not Jung Hoseok and is simply Min Geurin trapped in his body (though sleeping in class wouldn't call for those measures. She's just being dramatic.). It's also better than cleaning the men's restroom. She can even think of things like needing to go to the men's restroom to pee. The thought mortifies her. Eventually, she has to pee.

"I mean, I could tell someone," she says to herself. She tries not to shudder at her voice. It rings deeper in her throat, vibrating in her chest. Is this what a good portion of the male species feels? Is this how a cat feels? Is this just how Jung Hoseok feels? She drags her hands down her face, feeling her cheekbones tugging her eyes down. "Hello, Choi seonsaengnim, so... well, I— ahem. Sir, I am in fact not who you think I am. I am not Jung Hoseok-ssi. This may be difficult to believe, I know, but— but I, Min Geurin, am stuck in his f— physical body by means I, uh, do not... know of. Maybe quantum physics can explain it." 

This sounds like a prank. 

"I assure you, this is not a prank. Please don't experiment on me or cut open my skull. I mean, you can just ask me a math question or something... something Hoseok can't normally answer. Or maybe he can. I don't know, he seems like he'd be bad at math. You probably know him well, right? And I guess you don't really know me, which is just great. Point is, I'm not crazy, seonsaengnim. I promise. Really, I'm telling the truth."

You sound crazy.

Green smiles with absolute confidence. "Yeah," she admits, the insides of her lower eyes still exposed to the air as her fingers continue to tug her facial skin down. "To be honest... it's not how, but why. Seriously, why am I in Hoseok-ssi's body? Like, why? I'm actually insane, right? I don't think it's his fault or anything, 'cause I mean, why in the world would he want to switch with my body when he's sculpted by God? If we're comparing here, I'm the chiselled-off leftovers."

Those hands lower down to her jawline, then back up to play with her nose, sloped at the "perfect" angle. There was a lecture about anatomy recently, and the teacher said something about Hoseok's nose being perfect. Something about Vitruvius' theory and Leonardo da Vinci's "perfect man" drawing. She didn't think she'd remember the part where Hoseok's nose is deemed perfect, but she does. She blames Hoseok's body for remembering that perfectly useless piece of information.

Then her fingers thread through her new hair. It's shorter and exposes her ears so freely. And silky. She finds herself running her hands through his hair for a full minute when a thought abruptly pops into her head.

Hoseok's arm.

Complete flesh, blood and bones inside. Strong.

Green flexes her arm and refuses to blink at the muscle there. It's... actual skin. She can clasp her hand shut. Wiggle her fingers. Tap on the table. Scratch her head. Tickle her ribs. Laugh at herself. So Hoseok's ticklish. Squish her cheeks. Type on her laptop fast without weird metal clicking sounds.

She can write well.

The control she dearly misses washes over her in little tsunamis straight to her heart. Thumping rapidly against her chest. Rocking her world. Overwhelming her.