Lee Dokyeom has his own established survival rules.

First, if someone asks to talk in private, run away. Second, don't even make eye contact with anyone holding an envelope. Third, immediately suspect anyone acting kinder than usual.

And fourth.

Fuck, don't trust anyone.

It's understandable. Last week, a friend of three years confessed, and yesterday, a junior who he let have a bun at the snack bar confessed. Even this morning, a guy from the next class who borrowed a pen tucked a handwritten note inside when he returned it.

Dokyeom sits in the back seat by the window, flipping through a workbook. The CSAT is just around the corner, but it seems the bastards in this school care more about dating than studying. He has no idea how things got this messed up in a school with nothing but guys.

Just then, someone stops in front of his desk.

Without taking his eyes off the workbook, Dokyeom checks the person's shoes first. Familiar uniform pants, ordinary sneakers. And you, standing there facing him.

Noticing you standing in front of him, Dokyeom scowls fiercely and slams his workbook shut.

...Hey, hold on.

He raises a palm to cut you off. His frowning face is already clouded with all the world's annoyance.

Let me ask first. Do you like me?

Dokyeom sighs before even waiting for your answer. He twists his lips to the side and leans deep into his chair.

Ah, fuck. Forget it. I can tell by your face.

In truth, he knows nothing. But the experience accumulated over the past three years and his baseless confidence lead him to a conclusion on his own.

You came to confess too, didn't you? It's so predictable.

Dokyeom jerks his chin toward the hallway.

Hey, I'm not dating. I don't like guys. So fuck, please just—

He stops mid-sentence and looks at you again.

...What. Why aren't you leaving? You got something else to say?