The lecture hall was dimly lit and not entirely empty. The pair of students messing around in the back row jolted in surprise when Surya flipped on the lights. 

They immediately recognised his face. So he didn't even have to say a word before they were hastily gathering their bags. It wasn't that he had a reputation for being terrifying or temperamental, but he was well-known on campus, and getting on his bad side often resulted in a myriad of misfortune.

After that frisky pair fled, only one student remained. He was passed out in the middle seats with his head buried in his arms. He didn't stir once whilst Surya rustled through papers at the lectern, checking his microphone and his presentation. 

He was so much like a corpse that Surya couldn't help but be vaguely impressed. To be so dead to the world around him, for so long? It wasn't even offensive at this point.

As the first-year students bustled noisily into the lecture hall, Surya lost sight of the little student sleeping there, and rather focused on lecturing. Though it felt like he was yelling at a cement wall. 

Most of his audience had their heads down, but very few were actually jotting down notes. Others were noticeably doing work for a different course or scrolling through their phones. Those who made eye contact with Surya were mostly blank-eyed, like they were functioning on one brain cell, caffeine, and an ungodly amount of stress.

Surya felt a surge of sympathy for every professor ever. This was disheartening, to say the least. His job as an assistant teacher meant he was only expected to answer queries or direct those queries to the actual professor, but Surya's perfectionist streak had him wanting to drag all of them to graduation by hand. 

So after the hour was up, it was immensely satisfying when two diligent students came to speak to him about the prescribed readings while he switched off his presentation. 

"Should we memorise the researchers' names? Is it important to know them?" Hana asked.

"The concepts are more important, but it wouldn't hurt to learn their names, since they might jog a memory in the exam." Surya watched her tear her eyes away from his to make a note. "Since it's only the first lecture, I'll recap a lot of what I said tomorrow. If I still haven't clarified what's confusing you then I'll stay behind and we can go through it."

"Thanks, Surya-tov," she smiled. 

"My pleasure." He fixed his own coldly courteous smile in place. 

Hana's friend flushed red, but she stammered out, "Will the lecture end early tomorrow because of the Little Bears' match?"

"I'll try," he said without much feeling. He wasn't fond of basketball at all.

"Oh, are you a fan?" Hana brightened. "They announced the line-up this morning, and there's a new name from our year! A lot of us are going tomorrow to cheer for him."

To put it very bluntly, Surya didn't care. 

The basketball team's mascot was the Tasmanian devil, hence their nickname the 'Little Bears'. It suited the irritating noise they made while playing. The grunting and snapping. But the animal was hardly larger than a house-cat, so it hardly represented the towering team. It was all sharp teeth, and strong jaws, consuming every bit of a meal, including the bones. 

If Surya was being generous, he'd say the team shared the same muscular build, pungent odour, and ferocity when eating as the Tasmanian devil. They were aggressive, often nipping at players far more skilled than them, and hadn't cleanly won a game in over two years. 

It was ridiculous how much the college adored the team and spoilt them rotten. It wasn't like they were very good. 

"I heard from some of the girls on the team that Malay is very cute," Hana was saying. 

Her friend agreed. "He and I went to the same middle-school before he went to Hanseol High. He's crazy about basketball. Like that's the only thing on his mind."

"Hanseol?" Surya echoed. 

"Ah, did you go there?" Hana blinked. "Then Malay was your junior!"

"I can't seem to remember him."

"Akira Malay? You know, he's pretty famous."

Surya gave an apologetic half-smile that lacked sincerity. "It doesn't ring a bell."

He discreetly started inching them toward the door to get them to leave, but it was another five minutes before they did. Then he packed up his lecture notes, and double-checked that the hall was empty before he locked it. 

It'd be one thing if Daichi was here, since they often broke into empty rooms to pull pranks or to be alone together, but it was quite another when Surya would be held responsible for other students getting it on in here. So he checked that lock thrice before leaving.

As he exited the office he shared with the professor, he took out his phone to message Daichi. He'd just sent his message when his phone started ringing. He held it up to his ear, feeling a surge of pleasure. He wished so badly that Daichi was here, right in front of him, so he could tangle his fingers through his hair and complain about responsibility. 

"Hi," Surya smiled. 

A hoarse voice inquired, "How did it go?"

"Did you just wake up?" Surya sighed. Hardly hiding his disappointment that he'd missed watching Daichi stretch awake.  "It went well, but I think I prefer being a part of the masses. They're a swarm of stress and hormones, like a pack of apathetic sponges. I'm drained."

"You're a sacrificial offering to the babies," Daichi hummed. 

"Speaking of babies, are you fetching the little rascal today?"

"No, Zeke requested my taxi services only for tomorrow. I'm a free man." There was a rustling of sheets in Surya's ear, which meant Daichi was turning over in bed. "But I'll be in the art studio until late again, so dinner's on you." 

"What kind of a housemate are you? We should be celebrating my first day as a teaching assistant. Give me your money. Then I'll think about ordering you a share."

Surya was incredibly tempted to go home and have lunch with Daichi, but he had another lecture to give this afternoon, so he resigned himself to cafeteria lunch. 

"Somehow there's always meat in every dish," Surya sighed. "And it's always raw."

"At least you're getting your protein in," Daichi supplied. 

"You said that the other day when I accidentally cut my finger slicing cucumbers." 

"One positive thought a day wouldn't kill you."

"I won't risk it."

Surya drew as much strength as he could from Daichi, before he hung up and left for the cafeteria. He luckily found a seat at the table with Leon, a person from his own year who was still finishing his post-grad.

Leon straightened out of his seat, swallowing a mouthful of his meat-pasta before enthusiastically greeting him. "First lecture didn't kill you! And am I the first person who gets to hear the details?"

"Ah, I already talked to Daichi," Surya shrugged. 

"Man, then do you know what's happening with his project? He won't answer my texts."

"He's nearly done with it, but his supervisor is fighting for her life persuading him to join a contest. If he folds then that'll probably kill him. He told her, and I quote, 'I would rather lose you than this argument'."

"Oh, well, no wonder he's left me on unread. I'll pop by later tonight to give him and those other artists some pizza. You should join me! They need the fuel." Leon paused for only an instant, just to inhale, before rambling on. "Marx finally has the date of departure for his work overseas. It's at the end of the second term. He's so stressed about it that he won't shut up about all the things he needs to pack."

Tired, Surya propped his chin into his hand. "We might be the last to leave Kaoru. Daichi will also be finishing this year, and potentially going overseas like Marx."

"Hey, I've been friends with you the longest!" Leon whined. "All you ever do is talk about Daichi. It's like you're an old married couple. I was your best friend and roommate first!"

"Until you abandoned me in favour of moving in with your girlfriend in second year. You were lucky that Daichi was assigned to my room. A murder would've been committed if it was anyone noisier." Surya gave a smile that was just as chilling as it was beautiful. "Just tell me how teaching PE went."

Leon threw up his hands, undeterred by Surya's accusations. "The first-years are a bunch of piranhas. Those who didn't try to escape the exercises were honestly out for blood. I made them run only two laps for the warm-up, and half the group disappeared when they passed the bathrooms. I also found two of them boning behind the hut. It's no wonder there was a request for three teaching assistants. An army would be better."

"They're the worst," Surya agreed. Though he'd pulled the same if not more stunts with Daichi in his recent past.

Harper slid her tray onto the table, asking, "Who's the worst?"

"The first-years," Leon replied. 

"Tell me about it," she muttered. "They're not any better this year."

"Are you still helping with the orientation?"

"Unfortunately. We're shorthanded, so they pulled me from history to help run their curriculum. We just finished registering the late ones today. I think they'll post an announcement next week, but I'm begging you, please volunteer to be a mentor. The more mentors we have, the smaller our assigned groups. You'd be saving me." 

Aghast, Surya stared across at her. "You want us to what? Spend more time with them?"

"They're not that bad."

"They're worse."

Leon nodded. "They're so horny. I don't remember ever being as horny as them."

"That's because you were too busy chasing after one girl," Harper told him. "Come on, you two. You'd be great mentors! And you'd be saving my sanity. Think of my sanity."

"Oh, you know what that sounds like?" Surya asked. 

"What?"

"A you problem."

She dramatically held her head in her hands like the world was ending, and in her case, it probably was. Harper was a year their senior, and desperate to stop being at the bottom of the pecking order, but time and time again she was roped into managing the first-years. A job from hell. 

"You'd be my lifeline in this ocean if you became a mentor. My guardian angel. A hero. I'd be singing your praises for a whole year," she pressed.

Leon started to say something, but there was a loud clattering from across the cafeteria. Surya lifted his head curiously, wondering what was causing the sudden ruckus, but his attention snagged on Harper's darkening expression.  

"Not again," she growled. 

And her tone alone had Surya tensing. 

Just what was happening on the other side of the cafeteria? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.