XLVIII :: The Night
The grand seminar hall was alive with the hum of celebration, a symphony of voices, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses as the graduates of this year gathered to mark the culmination of their journey. The air felt heavy yet light—tinged with pride, suffused with the quiet ache of knowing that this day marked both an ending and a beginning.
Y/n and I walked in, her hand loosely looped through mine, as the grandeur of the space unfurled before us. Rows of tables stretched out, adorned with fresh bouquets and golden name cards, while professors and students alike filled the room with an energy that was both infectious and humbling.
“There they are!” Felix’s voice rang out from a table near the front, his signature grin making him stand out even in a sea of exuberance. He waved wildly, nearly knocking over a water jug in his enthusiasm.
“Do you ever tone it down, Felix?” Jennie teased, nudging him aside to make room. “Come on, sit down, lovebirds. We saved you the best seats.”
As Y/n and I took our places, Jennie leaned in, her face aglow with that trademark elegance. “What took you two so long? Late-night reflections on the fleeting nature of time?”
“Close,” Y/n replied with a wry smile. “Traffic.”
“Oh, how poetic,” Jennie quipped, rolling her eyes.
“Poetic or not, you made it,” Lisa said, raising her glass of juice like a seasoned toastmaster. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, we are *complete*. Let the reminiscing begin.”
Jay chuckled, setting down his cup with a deliberate clink. “Oh, please. You lot have been reminiscing since breakfast. We get it—great memories, legendary achievements, tears, laughter. Can we move on?”
“Not yet,” Chan interjected, his voice softer but tinged with a quiet authority. “This is the last time we’ll all be together like this, Jay. Let us have this.”
His words silenced the table for a moment, grounding us in the gravity of the occasion. Even Jay, the perennial skeptic, nodded slightly.
“I still can’t believe it’s over,” Lisa murmured, her voice carrying a wistfulness that seemed to mirror everyone’s thoughts. “I mean, just yesterday, we were cramming for exams, running on three hours of sleep, and living off instant noodles.”
“And now,” Bam added, leaning back with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “we’re sitting here, at 27, with distinction in our fields, honorary badges, and diplomas. Legends, as always.”
“Legends, sure,” Jennie said, smiling faintly. “But it’s not just the achievements. It’s... everything else. The stupid late-night arguments, the shared snacks, the way we always had each other’s backs. That’s what I’ll miss.”
The table fell quiet again, the weight of her words settling over us like a warm but heavy blanket.
“Will we ever see each other again?” Y/n’s voice was barely above a whisper, her gaze distant.
“Maybe,” Felix replied, his usual mischievousness tempered by a rare seriousness. “But not like this. Life will take us places—different cities, countries, careers. It’s never the same once you leave.”
“Don’t say that,” Lisa protested, her tone wavering. “We’ll try, won’t we? We’ll stay in touch, meet up when we can.”
“We’ll try,” Chan said quietly, his gaze sweeping across the table. “But even if we don’t, we’ll always have this. The memories, the friendships, the stupid things that made it all worth it. That’s forever.”
“And the awards,” Bam added with a soft chuckle, breaking the somber mood. “Let’s not forget those. Because, seriously, this table? Full of overachievers.”
Laughter rippled around the table, lightening the air once more. Yet, beneath the smiles and the jokes, there was an unspoken acknowledgment—a collective understanding that this moment, as perfect and complete as it was, could never last.
I looked at Y/n, her hand still resting lightly on mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The future, with all its uncertainties, would come soon enough. For now, there was this—us, all of us, together one last time.
As soon as the hosts walked onto the stage, the chatter in the seminar hall faded into a hushed anticipation. A group of eight students—juniors, clearly nervous but trying to mask it with enthusiasm—stood behind the podium, exchanging glances before the tallest among them stepped forward to speak.
I leaned back in my chair, nudging Y/n lightly. “Looks like a new batch of ‘us,’” I said, my voice low, though the amusement in it was evident.
She tilted her head, following my gaze to the stage, then smiled knowingly. “I see what you mean. Same number, same nerves.”
“God, we must’ve looked like that once,” I muttered, earning a stifled laugh from Jennie across the table.
“Correction,” Jennie quipped, “we looked worse. Remember when Chan tried to introduce himself at the fresher’s party and stuttered so badly that half the hall thought his name was Charles?”
Chan, sitting beside her, groaned. “Why do you people never let me live that down?”
“Because it’s fun,” Lisa chimed in, grinning. “Also, you’re the student council president now. You’re supposed to endure our bullying.”
The hosts began outlining the day’s schedule, their voices gaining confidence as they went on. Speeches from professors, followed by a performance by the dance students—with Jennie, of course, taking center stage. That earned her a chorus of playful cheers from us.
“Don’t forget to bow dramatically,” Lisa teased, making Jennie roll her eyes but smile anyway.
“Then,” one of the hosts continued, “we’ll have a special address by our esteemed student council president, Bang Chan.”
“Ah, there he is,” Bam said, clapping Chan on the back. “The star of the show.”
Chan gave him a mock glare. “I swear, if any of you heckle me during my speech, I’ll...I don’t know, report you to the dean.”
“Real scary,” Felix deadpanned, drawing laughter from everyone.
The hosts went on, introducing Antonella and Jared, who were seated at the front. The applause that followed was deafening, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride seeing Antonella’s calm, confident smile as she waved to the audience.
“She’s come a long way,” Y/n said quietly, as if reading my thoughts.
“She has,” I agreed, watching as Jared adjusted his tie, looking every bit the accomplished professor. The hosts were showering them with accolades—Antonella’s groundbreaking work in long-exposure wildlife photography, her collaborations with global environmental organizations, Jared’s reputation as one of the youngest and most respected professors in his department.
“And here we are,” Bam said with mock solemnity, gesturing to our table. “Just a bunch of graduates with distinctions and no clue what to do next.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jennie shot back. “I’ve got two job offers lined up, thank you very much.”
Lisa leaned over, whispering dramatically, “And a third offer from that guy who asked you out last week.”
“Lisa!” Jennie hissed, turning red as the table erupted in laughter.
The mood was light, but underneath it was an unspoken heaviness. This might be the last time all of us were together like this. Even as we joked and teased, it felt like the clock was ticking louder than usual, counting down to when this would all become a memory.
The stage glimmered under the spotlight as the next performance unfolded, the vibrant energy echoing through the hall. The hosts were back at the mic, hyping up the crowd, but my focus shifted entirely when Antonella approached our table, Jared in tow.
"Jungkook," she greeted warmly, her mischievous tone slipping through. "This is Jared."
I straightened in my seat, soda in hand, and turned to the guy. He looked sharp, dressed in a clean-cut suit that screamed "professor," his glasses giving him an overly serious air. He extended a hand, and I shook it firmly.
"Jared," I said, sizing him up. "Nice to meet you. Finally."
"The pleasure’s mine," Jared replied, his voice calm, even pleasant. "I’ve been hearing a lot about you."
I glanced at Antonella, raising an eyebrow. "Is that so? Hope she kept the embarrassing stuff to a minimum."
"Not really," Antonella quipped with a grin, taking a seat beside Jared.
"Great," I said dryly, before turning to Y/n, who was quietly watching the exchange, clearly amused.
"Don't mind them," Y/n chimed in, nudging my arm. "He's harmless."
"Harmless?" I echoed. "We’ll see."
Antonella cleared her throat dramatically. "Kook, Jared's an economics professor. He’s brilliant."
"Economics?" I repeated, glancing at Jared. "Is that why you’re here? To crunch numbers on Antonella’s photography business?"
Jared chuckled lightly. "Not exactly. But numbers do have their place, even in art."
"Right. Math makes everything better," I said, sarcasm laced in my voice but not unkind.
"I wasn’t always a fan of art, actually," Jared admitted. "That is, until I lost a deal to her."
That caught my attention. "What deal?"
Antonella sighed, leaning back. "It wasn’t a big deal."
"Not big? You cost me a fortune," Jared interjected, though his tone was more amused than bitter.
"Wait, what happened?" I asked, now genuinely intrigued.
Jared leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. "It was during a business affair. An antique art piece was being discussed—a rare ink painting of a girl at work. I had an investor lined up, ready to purchase it, but someone stood up and completely dismantled my presentation."
"Someone?" I repeated, glancing at Antonella.
"Yup," Jared confirmed, nodding toward her. "She proved the painting wasn’t from the 19th century, as I claimed, but was actually modern—your work."
I blinked, taken aback. "Wait. My work?"
Antonella smirked, crossing her arms. "It was your experiment with ink art. I recognized the signature strokes and dug up the evidence to back it."
"You sabotaged him with my painting?" I asked, laughing softly, a mix of surprise and pride.
"Sabotaged is harsh," Jared said, shaking his head. "She was right. And it saved the investors from a bad deal. I just didn’t know who I was dealing with until later."
"You mean when you stalked her," Antonella added, raising an eyebrow.
Jared held up his hands defensively. "Okay, fine. I did some research. I was intrigued."
"You mean embarrassed," Y/n said, her tone teasing.
"A little of both," Jared admitted with a laugh.
"Sounds like you’ve been through a lot," I said, leaning back and eyeing him carefully. "But listen, Jared, Antonella means the world to me. And I’m not the kind of guy who just lets anyone walk in and out of her life."
"I wouldn’t expect you to," Jared replied, his gaze steady.
"Good," I said, finishing my soda. "Because if you hurt her, I’ll make sure your economics career takes a permanent nosedive."
Y/n stifled a laugh beside me, and Antonella sighed dramatically. "Kook, for once, can you not threaten someone I like?"
"It’s not a threat," I said with a smirk. "Just a promise."
Jared chuckled, surprisingly unfazed. "Noted."
The hosts’ voices boomed again, announcing the next act—a student council speech. The table fell quiet, and I leaned back in my chair, my eyes drifting to the stage. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but notice how Jared glanced at Antonella, the admiration in his eyes impossible to miss.
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. But I wasn’t letting my guard down just yet.
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