sober | j.jk

1 ‣ can't say no

"Don't worry about it, if you look over them a couple of times and say them out loud, you should memorize them pretty quick." Mr. Johnson says, handing you the paper with one hundred and fifty medical terms printed on it. "Don't stress."

"Thank you, sir." You take the paper, trying not to look at the terms so you wouldn't make an embarrassingly stupid face in front of your professor. You weren't in class yesterday when this was announced, so you were met with quite the unpleasant surprise as you walked in and were called to his desk. "The exam is tomorrow, yes?" You ask purely for confirmation.

"Yes it is." Mr. Johnson presses his lips together, pointing over at the board where it says 'EXAM 3 TOMORROW' boldly in red dry erase marker. Oh. Right. He always puts stuff like that on the board. Of course. And he also mentioned it briefly at the beginning of this convo. Double confirmation. "Right when you walk into class." The middle aged man in the cardigan standing across from you adds cheerily.

"Great." You mutter, defeatedly. "Can't wait."

"You'll do fine," Your name leaves Mr. Johnson's lips as he gently assures you after seeing the expression you fail to hide on your face. "You always do." He's not wrong. You're grades are more than decent in this class at the moment—and even when you feel your confidence in a subject is digging itself in a ditch, the test scores always come through and drag it back and heave it onto the surface.

"I don't know about that this time around, but thank you, sir." You smile optimistically, starting to walk over to your seat as your fellow students flow steadily into the vast room. You already beginning to feel the stress pressing on your chest remembering the number one-hundred and fifty. A hundred and fifty difficult terms to memorize in twenty four hours. "I'll study these until I drop."

"That's the spirit."

After bringing the convo to an end, you go up and sit in your seat, which is situated in the middle region of the big auditorium-style classroom. You like sitting here because you get a great view of the board and Mr. Johnson's voice can be heard very clearly.

The front is full of the really smart people who type like maniacs, mutter elaborate answers to each other and carry two laptops around. You know, the ones who talk about politics in casual conversations and know the square root of every single number from one to one-thousand by heart.

The back is full of all the kids who like to talk and don't really care about the class, much less it's content. Those individuals who have money to waste on expensive classes like these and only show up to lectures because their parents expect them to or just to look around at the attractive people.

You don't like either of those sections.
The middle is just right.

As you take out your laptop and place it on your desk, an unexpected somebody sits next to you in a seat already taken by your friend Mya.

What the—?

"Hey, so I know you don't like me that much, but I just saw that we got a test tomorrow and I'm gonna need some tutoring—"

"Let me stop you right there, Jeon." You interrupt the fast-talking young man babbling beside you all of the sudden. You're not trying to be mean per se, you simple acknowledge within yourself that you don't really have time for what he's asking for. "I can't save your ass this time. I have my own studying to do."

"Okay, so let me study with you." The dark haired individual insists, almost sounding like a little boy trying to convince his mom to buy him a lollipop. You don't answer him right away, organizing your things wrapped in a short silence hoping he'd catch some sort of hint. "Please." He leans in.