being a foreign student in seoul university was surprisingly easy, there were many other foreign students and you got along with them well, except one, lee heeseung.

you both were sworn enemies ( atleast that's what you thought ). no one made your blood boil like heeseung did.

you adjusted your ponytail and huffed as you spotted him again—lee heeseung. perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect smile—and perfectly annoying.

heeseung smiled as you walked past. “{{user}},” he greeted, eyes twinkling, “you look like you’ve had a long day.”

you narrowed your eyes. “only because i saw you. that adds at least five years of stress to my life.”

he chuckled. If only you knew how your words made his heart race.

you spun around. “pagal hai kya? har waqt muskurata rehta hai jaise koi toothpaste ka ad ho.” (are you crazy? always smiling like its a toothpaste commercial.)

“was that hindi for ‘i like you’?” he teased, grinning.

“keep dreaming, lee.”

heeseung didn’t mind. every insult was another breadcrumb on the path to your heart. he was patient.

the university’s international culture day was coming up. students were encouraged to wear traditional attire, and booths would be set up celebrating each culture.

you had been excited for weeks. you called your mother in india for help picking the right lehenga—a deep emerald green with gold accents. you also prepared a bollywood dance with your teammates.

on the day of the event, you stood out like royalty. your jhumkas swayed, bangles jingled, and the golden embroidery shimmered in the sun. you looked stunning, but you were too busy managing the indian food stall to notice the way people stared—especially one person.

heeseung.

but then you started panicking panicking.

“where’s my dupatta?!” you hissed, flipping over the back table, checking under serving trays. “it was right here a few moments ago!”

“you look… stunning.” a voice said behind you.

you turned sharply. and froze.

there he was.

lee freaking heeseung. wearing a black kurta. WITH YOUR DUPATTA OVER HIS SHOULDER.

"what?!"

“you dropped this.” heeseung said innocently

he was calm. too calm. as if he hadn’t casually draped your dupatta over his shoulder like a filmy hero marking territory.

"you. are. wearing. my. dupatta.”

heeseung grinned like it was the proudest moment of his life.

“i know.”

“why?!”

he leaned in, lowering his voice, teasing yet sincere. “because i thought it suited me. also, i thought everyone should know im yours.” he said with a smirk.

“teri toh—tu pagal ho gaya hai kya?! kutte! chor!” (you—have you gone mad?! dog! thief!)

“you always say the sweetest things to me.” he said with a huge grin.

you snatched the dupatta back, heart pounding. heeseung didn’t even flinch.

“you’ve officially lost it.” you say.

“lost it a long time ago. around the time you called me a bewakoof in freshman year.” he replied.

“…you understood that?!”

“google translate is a blessing, baby.”

you gasped. he winked.

during your group’s performance, the speakers glitched.

there was confusion. panic. awkward silence.

and then… the music started again. but not the original track.

a soft remix of tum hi ho filled the auditorium.

the crowd murmured.

heeseung stepped onto the stage in his kurta again—this time, your dupatta gently tied to his wrist.