THIGHS.|NAMJOON AMBW

First Glance

Another day. Another full day of learning ahead for you. Another day meant another afternoon in the library going over all the notes you'd make in class that day, getting ahead of the rest of the students and spending hours immersed in your work, meaning another quiet bus ride back home in the evening, cramming in another chapter of the book you were currently reading. It was going to be wonderful.

You began your daily commute to school, taking the infamously cramped London Underground tube system, a bus and then walking for maybe 15-25 minutes, depending on the weather and what interesting characters were taking up the space of the walkways, perhaps screaming about how the end is near or how going vegan will save your life, or maybe even how the Great Plague was actually caused by angry Martians.

You didn't really mind though. Honestly, you'd prefer an easier commute, but at the end of the day, you got to go to an excellent university and received a great education. What more do you need?

"I'm in no position to complain. I'm grateful and need look on the bright side of things. It's how I was raised."

You set off on the final stretch of your journey, your quest for quality schooling. The walk.

"Not too far from the campus now!"
You thought to yourself. Not a single other guy or girl in that school had the same enthusiasm towards learning that you did. Some were passionate, yes, but in comparison to you, they were as gloomy as rain clouds.

You were finally on campus, zipping through the corridors to get to your lecture. Upon arrival you swung the door open to be greeted with the same view you see every morning.
An empty classroom, free of even the professor who would be taking your class today. You let out a relaxed sigh, relishing in your extreme punctuality.

"Empty just the way I like it."

You scooted past all the chairs, making your way to the central seat in the front row. This was the best place to see the interactive board and hear every word your professor would have to say. You couldn't afford to miss a single beat.

Since you were 20 minutes early, you took this opportunity to organize everything out on your desk. You took out your several clip binders from your bag, your bulging pencil case and phone for taking voice notes.

Eventually, students started to casually make their way inside, slumping down into a seat and chugging down the remainders of the now cold coffees. One of the guys in the very back looked as if he had gotten straight out of bed and come to campus! You turned back around, removing your gaze from the scarily still student in the back to face the front. Your teacher now present and setting up.

You opened up your notebook, writing headings and subheadings for topics you were expecting to be discussing today. You kept your head down, transferring the words in your head onto the paper. More students were pouring in, but your head stayed down.

Look up, quickly look up at the door!

Your conscience told you to look up at the door. And so, against your better nature, you did. You looked up at the classroom entrance. Standing there was Gareth, some kid who constantly smelt of ketchup.

"Huh? Gary?" You thought to yourself.

Then, from behind the boy who smelt of the red condiment, emerged a tall, East Asian boy. He was wearing a blue denim short sleeve shirt, accompanied by a baseball cap that matched in colour to his shirt. That's was all you could see from the angle he was still at. You hadn't seen him before. Even though you were usually solely focused on the lesson at hand, you weren't completely oblivious and had familiarised yourself with most faces.

The mystery man referred to a sheet of yellow paper in his hand. This particular shade of yellow was used for timetables that were given to you during your first year, or in this guy's case, when you transfer. He looked at the door number, most likely verifying if he got the right room or not. When finally certain he was in the right place. He walked in the room, allowing you to see more of him.

His arms were long, as well as his fingers which he bedazzled with multiple silver rings. On his wrist was an expensive-looking watch, but you weren't one to keep up to date with trends and brands so you couldn't really be sure. His arms seemed toned, the short sleeve he wore allowing you a glimpse of his biceps. You looked at the guy for perhaps 5 seconds and were about to turn away when he walked further into the hall and then you saw it.

His thighs.

They were muscular and defined. His legs, just like the rest of his body, had a healthy glow and were slightly tan. His thighs were big and full. The tight cargo shorts he adorned were very fitting of his assets. They made it seem like his thighs would tear through the confining fabric any minute. His calves were toned too. His longs legs were magnificent, but your eyes stayed stuck to his thighs. You followed them with your bulging eyes as he lunged up the stairs, taking powerful strides. He finally took a seat, somewhat near the back. When he sat his thighs spread slightly in his seat mimicking butter on hot toast, but for the most part, they maintained their rigid shape.

You're eyes never left his thighs the whole time and when you finally looked up at the boy, you saw that he was looking at you, confusion was written on his face. He looked down at his own legs and back up to meet your eyes, a small shy grin on his face and a slight twinkling in his eye. You could feel you're whole body heat up in shame. You zipped backed around, not turning back to look at him again once during the whole two hours you were in that lecture hall, wallowing in embarrassment.