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Jisung cannot believe his eyes.
After days of stressing, crying, lamenting over the loss of his beloved notebook, he’s finally found it. He should be relieved, and part of him is, except for one teensy problem
His notebook is currently sitting on the corner of Kim Seungmin’s desk.
Of all people, of all places, why oh why did it have to end up there? With him?
Jisung has to get it back. But how? Seungmin seems oddly attached to it, and it’s literally a few inches away from him, right in his line of sight. Nothing could get past those sharp eyes, not even Jisung’s fast reflexes.
Could he walk by and bump into the desk and make the notebook fall and quickly swap it out for a notebook?
No, that’s too risky, and he doesn’t even have another notebook like that…
As Jisung is pondering, Seungmin looks up and sees him watching. Seungmin immediately shoots Jisung a glare, which makes Jisung gulp and turn back to his own work.
Maybe he could just…ask for it back? Explain the situation, how Jisung’s mom accidentally donated his handmade journal that up-cycled an old paperback cover, which Jisung had then used to pour out every single frustration and creative thought that crossed his mind? That that notebook contains not only his favorite lyrics, but his very soul?
Yeah, no. Seungmin would laugh in his face. Or just turn and walk away without another word.
On the bright side, Seungmin probably doesn’t know who it belongs to, because Jisung never wrote his name in it. On the downside, that makes it infinitely harder to get it back, because doing so would be worse than a love confession.
God, Jisung literally can’t think of anyone worse knowing his deepest thoughts than Kim Seungmin, AKA his arch-nemesis who still has never forgiven Jisung for scoring higher than him all semester long.
But his notebook absolutely can’t stay in Seungmin’s hands, for that very reason. Jisung has to get it back.
Come on, Jisung, think!!
Their class comes to an end, and Jisung hasn’t retained a single thing. As everyone packs up, he shoots Seungmin a sideways glance, noticing how Seungmin isn’t putting the notebook in his backpack. Rather, he’s carrying it in his arms with some other notebooks and binders.
Now is Jisung’s chance!
Here goes nothing.
Taking a deep breath, he grabs his things and rushes at Seungmin, coming from an angle where Seungmin doesn’t see him right away. They crash into each other, and Seungmin drops his things.
“Oh, shit!” Jisung says. “Sorry, Seungmin, didn’t see you there—”
“Watch where you’re going next time!” Seungmin fires back, starting to lean down for his things.
“Here, let me!” Jisung lunges for Seungmin’s things, including the precious notebook, but miscalculates where Seungmin is.
They smack their heads together, hard enough for both of them to wince.
Okay, ow. Definitely not part of the plan, but Jisung can work with this.
“Fuck, my bad,” Jisung says.
Seungmin is holding his head, eyes closed as he grimaces. Sensing his opportunity, Jisung smoothly slides the notebook backwards, behind him. He swings his backpack off his shoulder and sets it right on top of the notebook, all while reaching for Seungmin, saying, “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Are you bleeding? Do you know your name? How many fingers am I holding up?”
Seungmin opens his eyes and smacks Jisung’s hand away. “Just leave me alone,” he grumbles, gathering up his things. He seems too annoyed to notice that the notebook is gone.
Jisung watches Seungmin storm off, then can’t help smirking to himself. Letting out a sigh, he stands, brushing himself off before grabbing his backpack and notebook. He opens up the notebook and thumbs through it as he walks out of the classroom, making sure that everything is still in there, that nothing has been tampered with or torn out.
He stops when he sees the sticky notes and little labels stuck to some pages, filled with handwriting that isn’t his. The sight annoys him to no end; so not only did this fall into the hands of his academic rival, but said academic rival felt the need to critique things too?! God, that guy is so insufferable!
Jisung is about to angrily tear some of the sticky notes off when one of them catches his eye. It’s over the lyrics to one of his favorite songs that he’s written, titled, “Alien.” And it says, in neat, perfect handwriting, “I feel like this, too.”
Jisung stares at it, wondering if someone other than Kim Seungmin wrote it, because there’s no way Mr. Goody Two Shoes wrote that, right? Mr. Perfect, who has everything he could possibly want? (Well, except for the highest scores in the classes he shares with Jisung, ha). That Seungmin feels alone, like he’s an alien, like no one listens and that he’s unbearably lonely? Jisung cries bullshit.
He’s been lingering in the hallway too long; footsteps echo on the scuffed linoleum floors, and a moment later, Seungmin rounds the corner. He slams to a stop when he sees Jisung there, and his eyes immediately go to the notebook.
“Hey,” Seungmin says. “That’s mine. I dropped it.” He steps forward and holds his hand out for it, but Jisung holds it out of his reach.
“It’s yours?” Jisung retorts, bristling at the audacity. “Prove it.”
Seungmin scowls. “All those sticky notes in there are mine. I bought that notebook at a used bookstore—I even have the receipt. So just give it back!”
“What about everything else that’s written in here?” Jisung fires back. “Huh? Is that all yours too?”
“Did you read it?”
“Of course I read it, I’m the one who wrote it!”
Seungmin blinks in surprise, his eyes going wide behind his round glasses. And Jisung realizes all too late that he just blurted something mortifying.
“You wrote it?” Seungmin says. “All those poems and rants…that journal is yours?”
Jisung can take it all back. He can lie and save face. But if he does, he might never get his beloved notebook back.
So, despite his red, burning face, he draws himself up to his full (albeit not very tall) height and says, “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. So no, I will not be giving it back to you.” He shuts the notebook and hugs it to his chest.
“I didn’t know you were such a poet,” Seungmin says.
Jisung scowls. “They’re not poems—they’re lyrics. To songs. My songs.”
“That’s still technically a form of poetry.”
“What are you, the poetry police?” Not his best comeback, but Jisung is fired up, okay? “You know what, forget it. I’m leaving now.”
He turns to go, but Seungmin grabs his arm, saying, “Wait!”
Jisung pauses, nearly short-circuiting over the feeling of Seungmin’s large, elegant hand on his arm. He bets Seungmin’s hands are really soft, too—wait, what?
“I…I really like your lyrics,” Seungmin says. “Your songs are beautiful.”
Jisung thinks of the sticky notes and the one that says, I feel like this too.
“You do?” Jisung asks, looking at Seungmin.
Seungmin nods, releasing Jisung’s arm.
“Oh,” Jisung says, because this whole situation just got too shocking for him to handle. “Uh, cool. Thanks.”
“Have you…” Seungmin is fidgeting, which is so unlike him. “Have you recorded those songs?”
“A few.”
“Could I…listen to them?”
Jisung’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “You want to listen to my songs?”
“Yeah.” Seungmin gives a small smile. “Er—if you want to share them, that is. I understand if you don’t, though. It can be so personal, sharing your art, especially to a complete stranger like me.”
You’re not a complete stranger, Jisung almost says, but he manages to bite his tongue just in time.
Instead, he says, “You’re not gonna judge me if I do share them with you, are you?” He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Or make fun of me? I’m just saying, they might not be your style. I don’t write classical.”
Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think that? I hardly listen to classical, and when I do, it’s usually in the form of movie soundtracks, which I don’t think count.”
“Yeah, yeah, but like, I like hip hop and electronica and pop and stuff,” Jisung says.
“I like all of those genres.”
“Say psych.”
“What? I listen to a lot of genres. Besides, I’ve had other friends send me their songs before, and I like listening to new voices.”
“You have friends that send you songs?” Jisung is honestly surprised that the guy has friends. “Like who?”
Seungmin shrugs. “Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and sometimes Jeongin and Minho.”
Jisung blinks at that, hearing practically half their music program listed in that sentence. Not to mention, most of Jisung’s friends as well.
“Oh,” is all he says.
Seungmin smiles at him hopefully. “So...?”
With a sigh, Jisung says, “Oh, alright. Give me your email address or something and I’ll send a sharable link of my songs.”
“I’ll give you my phone number, too!” Seungmin says.
Jisung turns red. “Er—okay, fine, whatever.” He holds out his phone, and Seungmin takes it and puts his contact information into it. Then Seungmin smiles at him when he hands it back.
Jisung doesn’t know what to do now, so he just gives a flash of a smile and says, “Well, see ya later, I guess.”
“See you later,” Seungmin says. “Sorry about stealing your diary. Though in my defense, it looked like an ordinary book and was literally in a used bookstore. How’d that happen, anyways?”
Jisung sighs. “It’s a long story.”
“Mm, well, I’d love to hear it, maybe over some coffee? I have some time before my next class. And you can play me your songs!”
Once again, Jisung is surprised, but he finds that his heart leaps in excitement at the offer. “Y’know what? Sure, what the hell. I accept your peace offering.”
“Peace offering?” Seungmin snorts as they start walking down the hall together. “Didn’t know we were at war.”
“Oh, I’ll let you know that I’m very much your rival when it comes to academics.”
“Are you, now.” Seungmin smirks.
“Yup.” Jisung smirks back
“Well, then, in that case, let’s call a truce.”
“Pay for my coffee and I’ll consider it.”
Seungmin laughs, and the sound echoes down the hallway.
And Jisung, despite himself, finds that he’s grinning, too.