sleepless cinderella ☆ q.k | ✔

01

Kun seemed perfectly content with talking about himself again, "Oh yeah, it's like a 50% pay increase from what I was making as a first officer."

"How much exactly, Kun?" Yangyang pried further, half-teasing but half-serious.

And when Kun rattled off a number that was more than your students debts, you nearly dropped your glass of champagne. Nearly. Thankfully, you had enough wits about you to gently set it down, but not before taking a much bigger sip of it than previously. This was definitely not your kind of discussion.

"Y/N."

Someone had said your name, and now you had all fourteen eyes back on you. You realized then that it was Kun, who spoke up again.

"Grad school, right?"

"Yes," you confirmed.

"For..."

"Journalism."

Kun nodded thoughtfully, bringing his glass of champagne back up to his lips. He didn't break eye contact with you as he took a small but deliberate sip. You were holding his gaze, unsure of why, however.

"So do you have a final thesis or something you're working on?"

Ten broke into the conversation with a snicker, "Why do you care so much about her school work?"

Yangyang had a delighted grin on his face, following Ten's lead, "Is it because you're too old to remember what it was like?"

"Or maybe it's like a maternal-instinct type thing."

"Because he's old."

"Exactly."

Kun cocked his head to the side, eyes hard despite the grin on his face. Or maybe that was a grimace.

"I'm not a mom, and I'm not old. And for fuck's sake, Ten, you're the same age as me!" He snapped at his friends, only eliciting more giggles and laughs from them.

You were suppressing your own amusement, covering it with another sip of champagne. Kun grumbled something and shifted in his chair to lean further back into it. Apparently, he had decided to just ignore them as his eyes focused back on you. The coldness faded into something of a soft brown.

"So, final thesis?"

You didn't know why he had any interest in you or your schoolwork, but you were intrigued to find out why. Intentionally vague, to see if he'd bite, you said noncommittally, "Uh, something like that."

"'Something like that?'"

He bit. Perfect.

"My final research piece," you paused, noticing how he just ever-so-slightly gestured for you to continue. You gladly did, "Not to mention that my professor works at pretty much the biggest journal in all of Southeast Asia, and is selecting one piece to publish in it. And with it comes the opportunity to intern with her as well."

"From how many?"

"There's thirty-four of us."

"That's some competition," Dejun whistled lowly, and you suddenly remembered the other six people in the lounge besides yourself and Kun.

"Yeah. But I know that I can get it, if I could just..."

"Just...?"

You had a frank smile on your face as you looked around momentarily to address all of them, "Just find a freaking subject to do it on."

Your hands itched to pick up your champagne glass again, but you kept them resting in your lap. The one thing you didn't want to do was get drunk, or even tipsy or anywhere close to buzzed. That was really not what you needed, not when you had to hit the ground running on your story tomorrow. If you didn't get a subject soon, you'd be out of time to do a good piece, and would have to settle for a B. You'd never gotten a B on a piece in your entire six years of being a journalism student, and there was no way you'd ruin that streak with your final and most important piece.