Chapter Text
If there was one thing that got Oh Sion excited was the first days. The kind that crackled in his chest like static, that turned his stomach into a hive of restless wings. He remembers, mainly because his parents and brother Jaehyun had branded it into his memory like a cattle iron, being the only child who didn’t cry on the first day of school. Not when they woke him at dawn, his mother's fingers combing through his hair like a prayer, not when they left him at the gates, his father's hand a fleeting weight on his shoulder. Maybe he'd cried at pickup, but that was Jaehyun's fault, his brother's teasing a relentless tide in the backseat until their house swallowed them whole again.
High school had been different. The nervous energy never faded; if anything, it grew stronger each year, a live wire sparking beneath his skin. Not anxiety, not stress, but pure, raw excitement. He thrived in the chaos of new beginnings, loved being surrounded by people his age, by his school friends, and meeting new people each year. It kept Sion’s mind occupied during summer, even betting with his neighborhood friends about how many transfer students they'd get or whether this would finally be the year a foreign exchange student arrived.
But university? That was another beast entirely.
The summer before freshman year, his excitement curdled into something sharper, darker. Fear slithered through his veins, of not being enough, of not making it. Fear of being the only one that didn’t get to go to his dream school, study his dream career. He'd been a shaking mess after exams, barricading himself in his room until the acceptance email arrived. When it finally did, he read it twenty times before believing it was real.
“I told you you were going to get into it, dumbass”
Jaehyun's voice cut through the smoky haze of their celebratory barbecue, the scent of sizzling pork belly mixing with the summer night's humidity. His brother leaned back in his chair, the plastic creaking ominously, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. Sion looked at that beer like he wanted to try, like now he deserved it, and Jaehyun picked it up quickly because he handed him the bottle, and Sion sipped softly. Smiling, he gave it back, staring at his brother. The orange glow from the patio lights caught the sharp angle of his jaw, the knowing glint in his eyes, always feeling at ease when looking at his brother.
“I know, but still, it’s kind of unbelievable, Jae. I'm shitting myself bro”
“If I made it through, you can absolutely do it.”
Sion poked at his rice with his chopsticks, grains sticking to the polished metal bowl. "How are you so sure?"
"Because I know you." Jaehyun tilted his head back to stare at the stars, the column of his throat exposed. "And you'll meet people. Not like my friends, God knows you don't need another Jungwoo in your life, but your own. Probably better ones, too."
“Your friends are awesome, Jaehyun. I wish I could find people half as cool as them.”
“You will, don’t worry. Fuck Sion, you are making me miss university… I thought I was never going to feel that”
Sion smiled at him and rested his head on his older brother’s shoulder. That night, with fireflies blinking in the tall grass and the remains of their feast scattered across the table, Sion let himself believe it.
He spent the summer in a whirlwind of preparation, as if crossing items off a list could somehow quiet the restless buzz beneath his skin. He drafted countless to-do lists, revised, then abandoned them when a new wave of panic sent him scrambling to rewrite them. Did I submit the housing form? What if my scholarship doesn’t process in time? His laptop stayed perpetually open, tabs multiplying like wildfire: tuition fees, course syllabi, campus maps. He checked the enrollment portal so often that he could recite the confirmation emails by heart.
Between the chaos, he threw himself into work at the barn, the familiar rhythms of Mokpo grounding him. The smell of hay and damp earth, the sweat on his brow as he hauled feed buckets, it was mindless, comforting. His parents didn’t say much, but he caught the way his mother lingered when she handed him water, or how his father pretended not to notice when Sion paused to stare at the horizon, lost in thought. This is it. Last summer. Everyone knew, but nobody was ready to talk about it. At least not him.
Seoul loomed in the corner of his mind, like a glittering, terrifying promise. He’d packed and repacked his bags weeks early, then unpacked them just to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. The night before leaving, he lay awake, heart pounding, replaying every possible disaster: What if I get lost on campus? What if my roommate hates me? What if I’m not smart enough?
But beneath the fear, there was a current of something else, something electric. That first day fire that crackled in his chest. A new life was waiting. Seoul was waiting.
Seoul.
Sion felt his chest tighten when he looked through the backseat window during the road trip on the moving day, and he saw the skyscrapers clawing at the sky, their glass faces reflecting the late summer sun in jagged shards. The city pulsed through the car windows, a living thing, all honking cabs and neon signs bleeding into the twilight. Sion pressed his forehead to the glass, his breath fogging the view. The feeling was bittersweet, as he wasn’t able to look away, in awe, almost shaking because he needed to get out of the car and walk those streets with his legs, at his own pace, but at the same time, when they parked right in front of the dorms, he didn’t want to get out.
He had reached out to a couple of childhood friends whom he followed on social media, but neither of them reached back. He had looked through the lists of people who were in his class, even at his dorm, and he didn’t know anybody. He didn’t want to get away from the people who raised him.
His mom raised him like an angel.
Not the kind from storybooks, not like Sion had read much of those, but the real kind, the kind with calloused hands and tired eyes that still softened whenever she looked at him. She poured everything into Jaehyun and Sion, love so fierce it could’ve bent the world to its will. And they knew. They weren’t perfect sons, God knows they’d given her enough headaches to last a couple of lifetimes, but there wasn’t a single thing they wouldn’t do for her. Everyone knew. Sion lived for her quiet pride, for the way her voice would hitch just slightly when she bragged about him to the neighbors.
Every opportunity he had, every door that opened for him, she’d handed him the key without a second thought, carelessly, like it was nothing. But he knew. He knew the sleepless nights, the sacrifices folded into the seams of their life. He’d spend forever trying to repay her, even if she’d never ask for it.
His dad taught him how to fight devils.
Not with fists (though there’d been a time or two), but with grit. When Sion’s legs bounced raw with exam anxiety, when some teenage heartache convinced him the world was ending, his dad was there, steady as a warm sunrise. He never dismissed it, never told him to man up. Instead, he’d grunt, “Sit down,” and push a mug of too-sweet hot chocolate into his hands (Sion still blames to this day his dad for his insane sweet tooth).
When bullies at school made his blood boil, his dad didn’t fight his battles; he just stood at his shoulder, a silent reminder: You’ve got this. And when Sion was small, plagued by nightmares, he’d tiptoe to the living room and curl into the sagging old couch. Without fail, within minutes, his dad would appear, draping a blanket over him like an afterthought. Neither ever spoke of it. They didn’t need to.
And Jaehyun. If childhood had been a battlefield, they’d been rival warlords, scratching, yelling, a never-ending cycle of “Mom said!” and “You started it!”. Sion had assumed they’d hate each other forever, but then, around his thirteenth birthday, something shifted. Maybe it was his own brother turning eighteen, or maybe they’d just run out of stupid things to fight about. Probably both, but whatever it was, they’d learned to breathe, two deep counts before snapping, two more before answering.
These days, their worst arguments were over who stole the last dumpling. Their mom would scold them for their ridiculous inside jokes (the dirtier, the better), but even as she rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth always twitched.
Sion didn’t want to get away from that; who would want that? But he needed to. Eventually, he got out of the car and made it to the dorms that loomed ahead, a concrete monolith. For a wild moment, he wanted to listen to his intrusive thoughts and beg on his knees to his parents to turn back, but as soon as he entered the chaotic never ending halls and got to see that people were as lost as him, he smiled to himself, already with an unknown feeling of belonging.
His roommate was a storm in human form: Osaki Shotaro. All sharp cheekbones and sharper grin, his dyed-blond hair mussed like he'd just rolled out of someone's bed, or someone had just rolled out of his bed, which, judging by the smell of the room, Sion thought was most likely the second option.
He lounged on his bed, one arm slung over his eyes, a lollipop dangling from his lips, like it was just a facade. "You're my new kid?" he'd said, voice rough with sleep or mischief. "Nice to meet you, dude."
During that first year, he learnt a lot.
About Shotaro, Sion learned three things quickly: he was filthy rich (his parents' monthly "allowance" could probably fund a small country), allergic to studying, and unexpectedly patient when teaching Japanese between his hookups and all-nighters.
"Say it again," Shotaro demanded one night, sprawled across Sion's bed like a starfish, the scent of soju clinging to his shirt.
"You are my friend," Sion mumbled into his textbook with the most broken Japanese someone had ever spoken.
Shotaro barked a laugh. "Wow, okay, real smooth… Here's one you'll actually need-" He leaned in, his breath warm against Sion's ear as he whispered something decidedly less innocent.
Sion only found years later what that meant.
He also learnt how hard moving out was. He probably fucked up half his clothes during the first two weeks, messing up detergents and having his clothes stolen. Jaehyun wasn’t too happy when he had to visit them only one month after dropping him off, even if he lived in Seoul too, but because he only went there to give Sion half his wardrobe, threatening him to give it back as soon as university finished and he had a stable job so he could buy his own clothes. Sion just nodded quickly and thanked him endlessly, not because he finally had wearable clothes, but because Jaehyun’s ones were amazing.
He learnt how to flirt, not only with girls but with boys, which was something completely new and confusing. It happened one night when he was out with Shotaro, of course, Shotaro’s best friend Jisung, and Wonbin, a guy he befriended because they were always at the gym during the same hours. He was completely drunk, and a guy made a pass on him, and he didn’t even flinch; he just smiled and nodded, kissing him. The next morning, he was teased to death, but he didn’t regret it.
And of course, he learnt a lot about architecture.
He decided to study architecture one year before finishing high school, and his interests in physics and drawing were picking up quickly. He started looking at different spaces differently, drawing whatever he felt like it was his future dream house, and every single chair he saw in different cafes. He got into architecture with so basic knowledge of it just because he liked physics and drawing, a couple of 'nerdy' high school subjects, so it was fucking hard for him to pick up on his classes. He didn’t go as much as his friends did, especially Shotaro, because he was usually busy doing tons of projects, models, drawings, plans… and studying way more than simple physics, but also math, history, arts… it was challenging, but Sion loved it, so he pulled through.
The second year was completely different than the first one, as Shotaro moved to another dorm, sharing the room with Jisung, and he got a new roommate. Second year brought Daeyoung: quiet, serious, with a perpetually soft furrowed brow that softened only when he talked about film, revealing his slightly crooked teeth behind his thin lips.
He was one year younger, and Sion wasn’t really happy about starting a new friendship with someone younger, but Daeyoung turned out to be one of the best people Sion had ever met. He was studying film, which Sion didn’t think was a real career until he saw that Daeyoung had to do the same amount of submissions and assignments as him, also studying hard during finals. Maybe that’s why he got his grades significantly up that year, because having a roommate who did study was very helpful. Not that Performing Arts was an easy degree, but Shotaro always failed whatever subject that had to do with studying, but excelling in whatever he had to do with performing. He still partied, still flirted, even fucked around a couple of times, but it was way more chill than his first year, thank god, because he knew he couldn’t keep with that pace until he graduated. Where Shotaro was wildfire, Daeyoung was steady earth, grounding Sion day by day.
He tried to balance everything out: studying architecture, learning whatever he could learn about film from Daeyoung, drinking enough to be completely drunk but never blacking out, learning whatever he could learn about law from Wonbin, doing laundry properly and not missing his gym sessions, learning whatever he could learn about pediatrics from Jisung, still learning Japanese from Shotaro… it was a lot, but he loved it. He loved being a university student.
So, of course, the morning he woke up and realized he only had a weekend left to start his third year, he was far beyond stoked. He had everything prepared, from the outfit to his backpack.
He woke up early, trying to get the most out of the last free Friday that he was going to have for a while. He got to the gym, went to buy some groceries to have in his small room fridge. He changed his sheets, did some laundry, did a deep cleaning of the room with Daeyoung, and checked his email while his sweet roommate cooked something for both of them. After what felt like a year of catching up with emails, he reached the last one, and little did he know it was going to be the most important one.
Subject: Assignment as Language Support Student for Exchange Program
From: International Programs Office
To: Oh Sion [ [email protected] ]
Date: September 10th, 12:05
Dear Sion,
We hope this message finds you well.
We are reaching out to inform you that, as part of our university’s ongoing exchange program, you have been selected to assist one of our incoming international students during the upcoming semester.
According to your submitted application materials, your Japanese proficiency is listed as above average (Level B+). Based on this information, we are assigning you as the language support partner for Yushi Tokuno, a third-year exchange student from Japan who will be joining the Department of Architecture.
Your responsibilities will include:
- Assisting Yushi with basic translation of lecture content and assignment instructions during shared classes.
- Helping him navigate campus life and participate in group projects.
- Serving as a point of contact for academic or administrative clarifications.
You will receive up to 6 academic credits under the International Communication Support Program, depending on the outcome of the assistance. Additional details will be provided in the attached PDF.
If, for any reason, your availability has changed or you have concerns about your assigned role, please contact our office no later than Friday, 17th.
Thank you in advance for your cooperation and support toward fostering a more inclusive academic environment.
Best regards,
Lee Taeyong
International Programs Coordinator
The words glared from the screen: Tokuno Yushi. Architecture. Japanese. His pulse hammered against his ribs. Sion choked on air, standing up quickly while pacing around the room, combing his hair roughly through his fingers, as if he was going to find the reason behind that email in between his scalp and his brain. He only stops when Daeyoung enters the room with a big ass pan of japchae, and he doesn’t even let him close the door properly when he adresses the obvious tension in his face.
"You look," Daeyoung said slowly, "like you just realized you signed up to babysit a tiger."
“Something like that” Sion said defeated, left hand in between his lips, threatening the safety of his nails ”Daeyoung I fucked up, I fucked up sooooo bad bro.”
“What is it? Are you okay?” his friend asks worriedly, chopsticks hovering mid-air, japchae noodles slipping back into the pan with a wet slap.
“Remember about the International Program we enrolled in at the end of last year? When Wonbin told us something about not being able to get some kind of involvement with the university programs or some shit like that.”
“He specifically told you, not us, that "you couldn't get involved with university activities outside mandatory excursions and trips, and that it was highly unfair that you were considered one of the most relevant people that the student council talked about only because you volunteered one time to donate blood."” he quoted
“Well, okay, yes, that, you clearly remember right?” Sion said, taken aback by how great he remembered the scene, “So Taeyong, Jaehyun’s friend, the coordinator of the international program, just sent me an email about having to do some kind of assistance for a Japanese guy I don’t even know! Because he is going to transfer this year!”
“Do you actually know Japanese? Like real Japanese?”
“Shotaro had been teaching me some things for two years,” he said, embarrassed.
“What things, Sion?” Daeyoung asked, hands on hips and looking half sassy, half done
"I'm dead," Sion agreed, dragging his hands down his face. "I'm so dead. Shotaro taught me how to ask someone back to my room, not explain structural engineering!"
“Jesus Christ, let me read the email you dumbass”
Sion points at the computer as if a bomb were ticking over there, and Daeyoung knew exactly how to make it stop. But it only takes a few seconds after he turns, lips pressing together so he doesn’t laugh. Sion knows him. He had only been living with him for a year, but he knew him.
“Why didn’t you read it sooner? This is from last week.” Daeyoung says after a few seconds
“I don’t know, dude, I don’t usually check my email ON SUMMER.” Sion raises his voice, expressing frustration. “And now I cannot even say no because it's literally...” Sion checks his watch. “Half past two, the office closed more than an hour ago.”
“Even if you could cancel it bro, that goes right to all the info they have about you, and that wouldn’t look good, especially if you want to work here.”
Fuck.
Sion had forgotten he also enrolled in that program because he wanted to be an architect for Seoul University, and programs like that boosted his curriculum so much. He knew it because Jaehyun had some friends, like Taeyong, who worked at the University too, and they all recommended him to do such things.
“Let’s eat and then let’s search that Takeru Yushi up okay? I’m sure he looks nothing like a tiger,” Daeyoung says, already serving the food on two plates.
“Isn’t it Tokuno Yushi?” Sion says, getting his glass up the bridge of his nose and squinting his eyes at the screen, pointing at it, “It’s Tokuno Yushi, you imbecile.”
“I’m not the one who knows Japanese.”
“You could learn too, you know, for your films”
“Don’t have time for that, if I wanted to learn a new language for my films,” he said, air-quoting the last two words, “I would learn French. Man, I love a cheesy French romcom.”
Sion just rolled his eyes, feeling defeated. After having lunch, he let himself snooze for a bit in his bed as he lost all his energy he thought he was going to have today, the email literally crushed him. He texted Shotaro. He was going to need his help.
sion
dude
i fucked up
i got a japanese exchange student
i need to be translating classes for him
shotaro
come over
like right now
He rolled out his bed lazily. He usually was excited to go to Shotaro and Jisung’s room, but he knew he was going to be so teased, and he honestly didn’t have the energy for that. He asked Daeyoung if he wanted to come, but he was going to meet with some classmates, so he was all by himself when he knocked on his friend's room, not even getting to the third one before Jisung was opening, looking even more tired than Sion.
“Bro, you okay? You look like you had been stepped on,” Sion said playfully, already crashing on Shotaro’s desk. “Is it Jiwoo again?”
“Yes dude, she is not only not responding to me but leaving me on read on the other group like… I swear to god I didn’t do anything.”
“Maybe that’s the problem, dude, you never do anything.”
Shotaro quickly chirps in, getting out of the small bathroom. He came out straight from having a shower, at least Sion assumed, because he was shirtless, with a towel around his waist and his hair sticking harshly against his nape. Shotaro was fucking beautiful, Sion knew, but he couldn’t feel the slightest attractions towards him because of the amount of shit he had heard him say and saw him do over the two years he had known him.
“Put some clothes on, you are going to get me all worked up,” he joked, throwing at him the shirt he found on the table he was sitting at
“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” He teased back, smirking
They both laughed, Jisung joining too. Sion quickly broke down the situation to both of his friends. Jisung seemed now way more invested in this topic than in his own problems, and that made Sion smile, because he got to help his friend, indirectly. Shotaro was straight up laughing at him, and every time he read the email, he laughed even more.
“Dude, this is hilarious,” Shotaro finally said after Sion snatched the phone away from him. “You are going to get fired before they even hired you.”
“What the fuck do you mean bro!” Sion hit him hard, complaining loudly, “I need your help, seriously, I need you to teach me as much architectural Japanese vocabulary as you know.”
“My vocabulary in architecture is so little, and even less in Japanese…” Shotaro muttered, turning around the room to find some dirty socks under an even dirtier pile of clothes. “This is going to cost you-”
“How much?” Sion cut him, desperation drowning in his voice
“Considering we do this seriously,” Shotaro started saying, but quickly shut himself up, doing some quick numbers. “I would have to look at your notes over these two years, you would literally have to teach me Architecture, and I would have to-”
“How much bro, I can’t fuck this up, you know it”
“I know, you little shit, I am messing with you. I was thinking like… mandatory going out at least once a week?”
“Once every three weeks and stackable if I go more than once,” Sion gambled with his options.
“Once every two and not stackable. Not getting home before three.”
“Done deal”
It was kind of crazy, but very Shotaro-coded that he was asking Sion to go out in exchange for teaching him Japanese, but they understood each other, so Sion extended his hand to him.
Shotaro hesitated so little before agreeing to close the deal. “I will be here tomorrow at ten. You are the only witness to this exchange, so please be fair about it.” Sion directed those last words to Jisung, looking at him with so much care in his eyes
“I will, Sion. But I want you to bring coffee every time you come over, especially if it’s morning.”
“Done deal, Jisungie.” Sion extended his hand, too, and Jisung shook it, smiling
“Now you two get the fuck out, I am meeting someone here in like ten minutes” Shotaro said without looking at them as he was checking himself out in the long mirror they had in between their closets.
“Dude, you can’t kick Jisung like that out of his own room.”
“It’s okay, I was heading out to the gym anyway. I need a distraction.”
“You could stay and get distracted with us,” Shotaro said as if it were the most normal thing to say
“Let’s get out before you start even considering,” Sion said while grabbing Jisung’s wrist, pulling him out of his own room like a poor stray dog.
On their way out, they saw a Japanese girl heading to the same exact room they just got out of, and after hearing her knock, Sion and Jisung exchanged some laughs, seriously not believing Shotaro. He was another kind of unhinged that they didn’t know how to deal with.
Sion spent the little he had rest of his Friday watching a bunch of documentaries about the Japanese Metabolists, different podcasts about art and literature, everything in Japanese. He felt some kind of confidence build up in his chest because he did understand more than he thought he was going to do, so that motivated him to keep up his promise. He went the next day to Shotaro and Jisung’s room, bringing coffee as promised, too, and they went right to it.
Sion explained a lot of things of basic architecture, mainly what he would be needing to do that year: he explained some things about urbanism, such as the fifteen minutes cities and green corridors; he explained some constructions terms, but that was easier because that year was all about pre-fabricated constructions and a lot of calculations, which luckily for him, was something universal. He also explained more topics of his third-year subjects, like the design of different facilities and stuff. Shotaro was absolutely invested in helping him, so Sion only got more motivated, the next day going again to keep with his private lessons, while Shotaro drilled him on terms like "cantilever" and "load-bearing wall" between fits of laughter, complaining about how he didn’t even knew those words existed, only stopping the teaching when Wonbin brought some food over, along with Daeyoung.
“How is the study group going? And why wasn’t I invited?” Wonbin said as he quickly got into the room
"He's doomed," Shotaro announced cheerfully, flipping through Sion's notes with exaggerated horror. "But hey, doomed looks good on you," he continued, tracing his hands along Sion's cheek.
They all got seated on the floor, sharing some pizzas between the five of them. It was a usual plan for them, but because the majority of them were usually so hungover that Daeyoung refused to cook for them, in case they were going to vomit. He didn’t want his efforts to get flushed down the toilet, quite literally.
“Is it going that bad? Should we get backup?” Daeyoung said as he quickly finished one slice
Sion wanted to answer quickly, but finished chewing first, letting Shotaro answer, “Not really. It’s going well, I think I am learning more architecture than Sion Japanese, but well, the effort is clearly there. Did you know there are certain measurements of things to design furniture? So that everyone could use them?”
Everyone looked at Shotaro, speechless, but quickly ruined the silence with a bunch of laughter.
God, what would Sion do without them?
They devoured their meal in record time, hunger leaving no room for conversation. The moment the last bite was taken, Jisung and Daeyoung lunged for the controller, booting up some game on the TV, while Wonbin wasted no time collapsing onto Shotaro’s bed, already half-asleep. But Sion and Shotaro? They had a mission.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. The others drifted around the room like restless ghosts: Jisung eventually succumbed to sleep beside Wonbin, Daeyoung swapping the game for a movie, his eyelids drooping dangerously as he slumped against the floor. Meanwhile, Sion and Shotaro remained anchored in place, only breaking focus for quick bathroom breaks. By the time they finally surfaced from their task, the afternoon had melted into evening.
Daeyoung and Sion trudged to their room, exhaustion clinging to their steps. Before Sion could even muster the energy for their usual late-night debate, Daeyoung was out, really soft snores disguised as heavy breaths filling the silence. Sion tried to follow suit, he really did, but sleep refused to come.
He tried to relax, but he couldn’t. To breathe normally, to even close his eyes, but he couldn’t. He was excited, nervous, and expecting the worst to happen.
His body was rigid, his mind racing. No matter how hard he tried to steady his breathing or shut his eyes, anticipation buzzed under his skin like a live wire. What if their schedules didn’t align? Would he have to rearrange his entire semester? And Yushi... What if his accent was so thick Sion couldn’t understand a word? Shotaro was from Kanagawa, which was urban enough that his quirks were manageable, but what if Yushi was from some tiny village? What if he spoke in riddles, used words that didn’t even exist in dictionaries? What if he had a barn too? What if he looked-
Sion shot upright so fast his vision blurred. Shit.
He’d forgotten the most crucial step: research. He hadn’t so much as Googled Yushi. No Insta deep dive, no Naver search, nothing. He needed answers. Now.
In a flash, he was at his desk, slamming his laptop open. Phone searches were for amateurs, this called for full FBI mode. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he copied the name from the haunting email, heart pounding.
Tokuno Yushi.
He searched up and down the internet, but nothing came out. Nothing. No old Facebook photos, no forgotten rage tweets, no tagged party pics, no scandalous headlines. He tried variations, just Yushi, just Tokuno, inverting the order, but the results were the same: a blank slate. The relief was fleeting. If anything, the mystery only coiled tighter in his gut.
The morning of orientation (at least that's what the university called it, because it was just like any other Monday, but the teachers introduced themselves) arrived too soon, as Sion felt he had slept for five minutes rather than six hours. He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his shirt for the twelfth time, his reflection wavering in the dawn light filtering through the blinds. Somewhere in this sprawling campus, Tokuno Yushi was waking up too, unaware that his academic survival now rested on Sion's patchwork language skills and Shotaro's questionable teaching methods. Fuckin' hell.
Daeyoung back-hugged him, both looking at his worried reflection. "Stop panicking. Just... point at things and smile a lot."
Sion caught it with trembling fingers. "What if he's from some tiny village with a crazy dialect? Like you?" He explained his concerns from last night, “Or worse... What if he's an actual genius who realizes I'm a fraud by lunch?"
"Then you'll have a great meet-cute story for your wedding." Daeyoung dodged the pillow Sion hurled at him, laughing. "Don't be like that! You are the one who looks like a groom practicing your speech in front of the mirror!" He said, dodging the second and last pillow, "Go, your future husband awaits."
The campus pathways were already bustling when Sion stepped outside, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and nervous sweat. Somewhere beyond the crowd, past the chatter of a hundred new beginnings, his own first day waited. His feet moved on instinct, weaving through the tide of students, but his mind raced too fast to keep pace.
The campus felt now too big and his body too small, like his very first day here, a speck in the overwhelming newness of everything. Every step toward his much-known building felt like walking into a storm he couldn’t see the end of. His palms were damp, his breath shallow, but still, something inside him burned, not quite fear, not quite excitement, but that same static hum that always came with first days. Except now, it wasn't just in his chest, it was everywhere, down to his fingertips. He paused in front of the glass doors, heart hammering, shoulders tense.
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward.