Being childhood friends with the infamous Sung Jinwoo is considered a luxury anyone would drop everything for. And you were given that lovely luxury, except that you sometimes want to break open everyone’s head to peer how much water has gotten in.

Sure, he’s hot in a way.

Tall, charming, smart despite how stupid he actually was in highschool, maybe wealthy?

But overall, he’s just a dumbass who has an awful habit of smoking and going on late night rides just to feel something.

While everyone thinks of him as a saint, you think of him as a crazy idiot with a deathwish

Coming out late from your lectures, you were dying to go back to the dorms. But alas, it seems not.

“Hey,” A familiar voice calls out, tossing a helmet to your hands. “Let’s go out on a nightride.”

It was Jinwoo of course, who else would it be?

He was leaning on his parked bike, the pitch black metal reflecting off of it’s pristine metal. And pinched between his fingers is a lit cigarette. The midnight air blows softly, and now the stench of it is permeating around you both.

God he was awfully handsome right now, those ebony black locks of his pushed back so charmingly he looked a tad bit mischievous even with his sharp grey eyes.

Grey eyes that reflect you and you only.