"At night when the stars light up my room, I sit by myself, Talking to the Moon."
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Lee (Y/N) ─ a college student majoring in the performing arts, more particularly ballet. Reserved, sensitive, and your stereotypical loner, she's not one to talk ─ t...
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"(Y/N)! Wait up!"
You glance behind you, the grip on your book bag tightening as a girl skips up to you cheerfully, some people looking her way at her callout. With steel-blue eyes and a smile present on her kind face, she grins when she catches up to you. Her auburn hair is done up in a messy bun, her hoodie laying loose on her torso. She's wearing simple black leggings and white Nike Air Force 1s as she starts to trudge alongside you.
"Meg, you don't have to be so outwardly loud with all these people around. They already think you're crazy." She only chortles in response, eyes fixated ahead.
"Eh, it doesn't bother me that much. I can't help but express my excitement whenever I see ya!"
Megan Adams, a foreign student from the United States. Her Korean adoptive parents had moved to America in the 90s, and she lived there until she was thirteen, learning both English and Korean.
Everybody was so interested in her when she came to Gwangju University about two months ago, but now they ignore her because of her bright personality. They think of her as obnoxious, and although you pretend you don't care for her much, that fact alone bothers you.
When she first arrived, she had no friends. People would chat a little with her for the first month, sort of scoping out what she's like before befriending her. But now, nobody talks to her anymore. It makes you think it may have something to do with how she's always around you.
You met her at Starbucks about two weeks after she arrived at your college. With a caramel macchiato in hand, you paid no attention to the scarcity of people around you in the coffee shop, focusing on the homework assigned to you on your laptop. School had concluded for the day and you were relaxed, productive, and cozy, dressing in sweatpants and a school hoodie. Your hair was in a low ponytail, thrown to the side carelessly.
Typing away on the device, you hadn't even noticed another person approaching the table until she did, the jingle of her keys on her lanyard ringing as she took a seat right in front of you. You remember her sitting down her own iced coffee, the ice cubes clashing together inside as she made herself at home at your table. Saying you were confused was an understatement. Why had the new just sat with you of all people?
Despite the scary look you unconsciously gave her, she smiled, looking you in the eyes without a care in the world. She stuck her hand out, introducing herself and apologizing for interrupting. 'At least she's polite,' you had thought that evening. You had then suddenly become anxious to talk to her, knowing that you didn't have any friends before.
It all washed away the second she began talking to you in a conversation, though. Your mind had convinced you that you would be annoyed by her, or that she would be a chatterbox, but she was nothing of the sort. She was full of sympathy, understanding, and positivity, and although she seemed opposite to you, she fit with you like a once-missing puzzle piece.
