Ships Passing In The Night ｜Markhyuck (OT21 AU)

Chapter 24

Kim Dongyoung, it would be fair to say, was not having a particularly good day.

First, he had overslept, meaning that he'd been nearly fifteen minutes late to his first class of the day. That had been bad enough; he'd only received a mild chastising from his favourite professor as a result, but he'd left home in a hurry without his laptop. Turning up to his Advanced Psych study group--the one he needed to actively participate in, in order to pass the class--without it would be a death sentence, so he'd been forced to go home at lunch to get it. That had, in turn, made him late for his first afternoon lecture.

By the time he finally made it to the Philosophy building just before five, he was exhausted, flustered and really not looking forward to two hours of a subject he'd grown to despise with a passion. The silver lining of the evening class had always been the beautifully terrifying man who sat six rows in front of him, but even he had been missing for the last two days in a row. Dongyoung didn't hold out much hope that he would be there today either and, given that unfortunate reality, he wasn't feeling too optimistic about turning his mood around any time soon.

Hurrying into the small lecture theatre with just thirty seconds to spare, narrowly avoiding winning a tardiness trifecta in just one day, he made his way to his usual seat. Not too far from the projector, yet not too close as to make it seem like he wanted the professor to call on him to answer questions, he had grown quite attached to his spot. It also wasn't because it gave him an unimpeded view of the back of a certain someone's head, he swore to himself, but he'd be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy that particular added benefit.

He slid his laptop bag carefully onto the seat next to him, knowing that no one else would want to use it, and rummaged around in his backpack for his Philosophy textbook. No one had ever tried to sit next to him, not once in the year that he'd been sitting in this specific seat, across five different classes, but he liked it that way. With one glaring exception, he had no interest in making acquaintances in this department. He was too busy, what with frat business and his work in the Psychology faculty across campus, to make new friends.

He was mentally calculating how many more minutes he'd have had to spend on the bus each year if he had become a Philosophy major instead, as he waited for class to begin. His eyes automatically scanned the front row of seats, not expecting to find what he was looking for. The man wouldn't be there, and he'd be resigned to having to actually pay attention to the--Dongyoung paused, gaze landing heavily on the back of a head he was sure he could sketch from memory.

His hair was dark and perfectly styled, almost glossy under the fluorescent strip lighting above their heads, and the cut faded subtly into a long, pale neck beneath a simple, white collared shirt. Dongyoung wondered, not for the first time, if said hair would feel as soft as it looked from where he sat. He'd never been close enough to tell for sure--for all he knew, it could be just an illusion--but he thought it looked soft. His fingers twitched instinctually and he fisted his hands in his lap to keep from moving.

As if sensing someone staring, the man shifted in his seat but didn't turn around. Instead, he simply raised a hand to his nape, teasing the tiny hairs there with his long fingers. Several silver rings flashed just below his knuckles and Dongyoung could help but glance down at the expanse of pale, naked skin on his own hands. He wasn't completely clueless about style but he didn't hold a candle to this man, who made every day in class into his own personal fashion show, even if he didn't seem aware of most of the attention he received. This man was so far out of Dongyoung's league, it was ridiculous, Dongyoung knew from experience. It wasn't even close.

Class started then, forcing Dongyoung out of his thoughts for a while, as the older man at the front of the room started to explain in detail an interim assessment that would make up a good portion of his grade in this class. It was important information, which Dongyoung made sure to note down on a clean page in his notes, but he couldn't help the way that his attention drifted unbidden back to the middle of the front row every few minutes, whenever there was a lull in exposition.