The next day began with my alarm blaring in my ears. The repeating beep-beep-beep practically dragged my arm from under the blanket and toward the source of the annoyance. My hand slapped the face of my phone and the sound stopped. Phew. I forced my eyelids open and suddenly realized that I was an idiot; I had forgotten to take my contact lenses out and my eyes currently felt like sandpaper. Oh, well. I decided to keep them in. I slapped my face and rolled off of my bed and onto the floor, not caring about where the crap I rolled to. No matter which time zone I was in, I was never a morning person.

I pushed myself up off of the light-brown-carpeted floor with my hands and stood up. I d around my dresser for my phone and, upon finding the smooth, glassy surface of the screen, pulled it to about a foot from my face to check the time. The screen showed 7:33. I huffed and walked lazily to the light switch so that I wouldn't get ready in the dark and accidentally put eyeliner up my nose.

I first picked out my outfit--a plain, white, button-down blouse (buttoned until the third topmost button) under a green-and-pink argyle cardigan with the sleeves rolled halfway up my forearms, light-wash skinny jeans, and green Converse high tops that matched my cardigan. Yes, I owned a ridiculous amount of various-colored high tops. I placed a necklace with a single white pearl around my neck and a simple, silver chain around my wrist, but couldn't find my pearl earrings anywhere so decided to go without them. Despite the fac that I wanted to look perfect on my first day, I wasn't about to turn my new apartment upside-down to make that happen.

I stepped into the bathroom to do my hair and makeup. However, when I peered in the mirror, I realized I had more urgent things to attend to. I frantically ed and rebuttoned my shirt. Even after all these years, I still apparently have not gotten the hang of dressing myself.

After that ordeal, I simply pinned a small section of my long, stick-straight, light-brown hair to the back of my head and left my bangs down. Because I only had a minute left to do the rest of everything else and get out the door, I hurriedly--yet somehow perfectly, as was expected of me--applied the thinnest mascara and eyeliner of life. Having already packed my school supplies and a vital, hot pink item in my black backpack, I grabbed it, my phone, and a granola bar before running out the door like a madwoman to the elevator.

I pressed the button for the ground floor and pulled out my phone to check the time again. 8:12. My English lecture started at 8:30. It would only take me five minutes to walk to the building, but I liked to be early. Early is on time; on time is late; late is unacceptable. Plus, my professor probably wanted help on his lessons. He had told me the day before that he liked having native speakers demonstrate the subject of the lesson in their own accents.

I rode alone in the elvator all the way to the bottom, enjoying the fact that the elevator music was not awkward without another person's presence. It must be because it's early. The doors opened with a ding! and I stepped out only to collide harshly with someone who was walking in. I stepped back, bowed, and apologized before looking up to see an irritated-looking girl wearing one of the shortest skirts I'd ever laid eyes on. I walked past her before raising my eyebrows. People here are crazy. It's, like, 50 degrees Fahrenheit here--I don't know about Celcius yet. Maybe you can justify it later when it's 70 degrees Fahrenheit, but you're just torturing yourself, lady. I shook my head and continued on to my lecture.

---

As I expected, the professor asked me to do several things for him as examples. He appreciated my Northwestern-US accent. I held a few conversations in English with him and students who were bold enough to attempt it. I was not surprised, however, when they broke down in the middle of their sentences and defaulted to Korean for any words that they didn't know. For example:

"I am student," one guy said.

"Ah, that's nice. So am I. What do you major in here at the university?" I asked back kindly.

"I major in... uh." He looked moritified. "Jungchi gwahak," he finished with a red face.

I smiled good-naturedly, silently-judging-but-not-really-because-political-science-is-not-a-common-English-phrase. "Ah, political science?"

The rest of the class period passed exactly like that. Everyone pretty much had the same level of English skills. Boy, am I glad that I studied Korean intensively before I got here or else I would be screwed.

---

My last class for the day was on international relations--it was a required class for me to take because of my studying abroad. I was expecting it to be more complicated than it was; I can't honestly say I learned much.

As I was packing up my notes, the professor called me to his lectern. "Come here, please." I looked up at him and was a little shocked to see the skirt-so-short-you-can-probably-see-my- girl standing next to him. I furrowed my eyebrows but picked up my belongings and approached him anyway.

"Yes, Professor Bang?" I looked between the old man and the girl--who no longer looked irritated, by the way, except for the fact that drew slightly down at the corners--trying not to look like I was completely suspicious of them (which, of course, I was).

Professor Bang cleared his throat like the old man he was and adjusted his glasses so that they were higher on his nose, all the while leaning on his lectern like his life depended on it--I wouldn't be surprised if it did. "I'd like you to meet Lee Chaeyoung." He gestured to the girl before gripping the lectern again, harder this time. "She has volunteered to take you around Seoul and be your friend or whatever." His attitude exhibited no care. "So, like, have fun." He then walked away slower than drool dripping from my mouth during his lecture frozen molasses, leaving me with Chaeyoung, who supposedly wanted to be my friend.

I turned my head toward Chaeyoung. "Hi. I'm Chaeyoung," she said and stuck her hand out for me to shake.

I hesitated for half a second, observing her once-again-irritated expression, before shaking her hand. "Hi. I'm sure you know my name already. I've probably been introduced to you already." I smiled uneasily. She nodded. "Nice to meet you," I said, trying to seem friendly--I mean, not that I wasn't friendly, but it might have seemed like I wasn't, okay?

"Same for you," she replied shortly.

I puffed my cheeks up with air before blowing out again. "Is there something wrong?" I asked cautiously. I spread my feet apart in preparation to run just in case she flipped the crap out.

She frowned deeply. "Yeah. My boyfriend just broke up with me," she said grumpily.

"Oh." Well, this just got awkward.

"Anyway, we should go explore and get to know each other and stuff." She let out a brief, forced smile before tightening her hand around the strap of her large, leather purse and striding toward the door with me hot on her heels.

---

I think I get the short skirt now. Chaeyoung was talking about how she had gone to meet her ex-boyfriend that morning and how he had broken up with her because of some stupid reason like she didn't like Super Junior or something like that. She was all, "don't be mad cuz you can't get all up in this". I can honestly say I'd probably act the same way except I would keep my clothes covering what they need to. I think we're gonna get along.

---

Over the first week, Chaeyoung and I grew close rapidly. She helped me with my classes and I helped her through her break-up whle providing her with entertainment and distractions.

"Come on, girl! Let's go! It's 7:30! If we don't leave, like, now, then we're gonna be late!" Chaeyoung shouted from the living room, probably stomping impatiently. Despite her snappy nature, Chaeyoung was a joy to be around. "Hurry up!" ... A real joy.

"I'm coming! Calm down, lady!" I stuffed my journal and a red-labeled bottle of water into my black backpack along with my wallet. I shoved my feet into my white high tops before I shuffled out of my room. "Is my pink hoodie out--" I began, but I soon found the object of my search. "There it is." I pulled it over my head and jogged back to my room to grab my backpack. "Let's go!" I ran back to Chaeyoung, who was standing impatiently at the door, and smiled.

---

Since it was my turn to pick the movie, we ended up in the seats smack-dab in the center of a chick-flick showing. Of course that's what I would pick. If I can't have romance in my own life, I might as well enjoy the movies about it.

"I hate chick-flicks," Chaeyoung whined as we took our seats in the theater.

I set my backpack on the ground between my feet. "Then why do you ever let me have the option to pick them when you know I will?" I giggled beside her.

"Well, why do you always have to pick them when you know that I don't like them?" she asked frustratedly--and a little too loudly.

I pretended to think for a few seconds. "Maybe because I know that you don't like them," I whispered next to her ear teasingly.

"What? Are you seri--" I clamped my hand tightly over --and mine, as well--to keep the noise level down.

After she had calmed down, I removed my hand from . I put a finger to my lips. "Shhh," I whispered.

She made a face and mouthed that she would strangle me later when suddenly, her expression changed dramatically at something behind me. I automatically followed her eyes to the seats to the right of me. Three men dressed in dark hoodies and snapback caps pulled low over their faces sat right next to me, quietly laughing and joking with each other. I raised my eyebrows.

Chaeyoung and I looked at each other and almost burst out laughing, but then the movie started and we were shushed by the men next to us. We looked at each other again, laughing internally. Wtf is wrong with these guys? They look so shady, but, like, they're totally watching a chick-flick together, which, I'm pretty sure, makes it even more shady!

During the movie, if either Chaeyoung or I would make a peep of sound, the guy sitting directly beside me would whip his head accusingly toward us. I couldn't see his face, but I had no doubt that he was throwing us disapproving glances. Each time he did it, I got that much closer to ripping his tongue out of his mouth.

Okay. I know that we're supposed to be quiet in theaters, but we're really barely making any noise. I snuck a glance at him and glared at his horrifically perfect side-profile. Take your shady friends elsewhere, you weirdo.

---

By the time the movie ended, I wasn't even watching anymore; I was too busy badmouthing Mr. Shady-Guy-Who-Always-Wants-Me-To-Shut-Up in my head. As soon as the lights came on in the room, I stood up, pulling Chaeyoung with me, and attempted to move right--toward the exit. Unfortunately, Mr. Sketchy-Snapback-Chick-Flick-Guy had the same idea but about going left (like why though because the exit was the other way) and we bumped into each other. We both dropped our backpacks in the middle between us. I glared at him, but he just ducked down and picked up his backpack without sparing me a glance. He didn't even apologize! Are you kidding me right now? I hurriedly picked mine up as well, giving him one last glare before I strode away from the scene with the backpack securely on my shoulders.

---

Chaeyoung and I sat on a park bench in front of a pond after the movie. The cool, spring air and the moonlight reflecting off of the soft ripples in the water calmed me down and put me in a better mood, completely taking my mind off of Mr. Shady-Pants.

I stretched my arms above my head before laying them over the back of the bench. "This is so nice," I said. "I love the weather right now."

"Right? It's so relaxing," Chaeyoung replied, pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands and looking at the moon contemplatively. A comfortable silence ensued between us, filled with the sounds of our breathing and the life around us.

Suddenly, I felt thirsty. I reached into my backpack without looking and searched for my water bottle. Weird. Everything feels different. Probably got shaken up when I ran into that guy. I dismissed the thought. I pulled out the water bottle and took a sip. This tastes different. I looked at the label on the bottle only to discover in horror that the color was different. I blanched and spit out the water that was inside my mouth. "Wait," I said aloud, "this isn't mine."

-------------------

Congrats! We have officially seen some shady visitors!

Anyone catch the Jungkook reference with the water bottle thing? Haha whatever it was dumb anyway.

This chapter still didn't have, like, any BTS in it, but the next one will definitely get the train moving. This story is way slower than I intended it to be. At first, it was supposed to be a one-shot, but then I was like, nah, let's make it 3 chapters but now I'm like ........ maybe 10.

Peace.