"Excuse me?" 

I look up to see another guy standing behind the chair next to me. "Is this seat taken?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. I shake my head, gesturing for him to go ahead. He lets out a sigh and sets his bag down, taking his seat.

"Are you Taylor by any chance?"

I tilt my head up, looking at him like isn't it fucking obvious? He raises a brow at me and shrugs. "I was told to look out for you, my name is Kim Namjoon, descendant of Calliope."

Ah, so he is another one of the muses. My first instinct is to give him another dirty look and ignore his ass, but then I remember I told Jungkook I'd at least try to get along with his friends. Goddammit. 

"Pleasure to meet you," I say through my teeth. As usual, eyes are on me when the other students begin filing in. I pull out a clean notebook, I had used some of my savings to buy one for this class specifically. 

Namjoon seems to study me for a few moments, and I don't say anything more. "You're not much of a talker, are you?" He asks quietly, looking around at the staring students. 

This time I do give him a dirty look. Seriously, is this guy dense?

He shrugs and turns his attention to the front of the class, where the professor had moved to as the bell rang to start class. "Everyone knows we have a new transfer student. I'm not going to make them do the whole introduction thing. I'm sure they have to do that in their other classes."

Oh thank god, someone who understands at least. "Today we are writing letters to your classmates. Choose one classmate to write a letter anonymously to, or you can sign it if you wish. You can write anything you'd like, from a question to a poem to a heartfelt message."

"When you're done, you can pass the letter up to me, and at the end of the class period I'll hand them out. Each person will read their letter out loud, unless they have no letter. If you have multiple, you may choose one. I'll give those people time to read over their letters to decide which one they want to read."

FUCKING HELL. Can't a girl catch a break?

I pull out some stationary I had bought just for this, since it was put on the syllabus. I had chosen simple paper, a pastel green that's framed with vines and roses.  I was given a discount when I went to buy it, so I didn't have to spend too much. 

I look over at Namjoon, seeing him twirl his pen around his finger. I pull out a black quill and an ink vial, setting it beside my paper. He turns his attention to me and looks over in surprise. 

"Wait, you use a quill? Why not a pen?" He asks, causing me to roll my eyes. 

"I prefer a quill, I like to write with calligraphy in cursive. I don't need a pen to do so."

His eyes light up in awe. "That's so cool... I wish I could afford that, I've always wanted to try using a quill." He says with a smile, and I notice the dimples on his cheeks. What in the actual fuck?

I have this weird feeling in my stomach. It feels like I ate some warm tomato soup on a cold winter evening, and I realize I'm actually a little happy at his statement. For once someone is interested in something other than me.

Before I realize it, words begin to tumble out of my mouth without a second thought. "Would you like to trade?" I ask in a quiet tone, surprising both of us.

Well, now that I've fucking offered, I may as well follow through. "For the letter writing anyways. I never really use pens, and you can experience using a quill."

Namjoon drops his pen in shock, his mouth agape. "A-are you sure?" he asks in bafflement, to which I nod. I pass my ink over to him and rest the quill beside it, picking up his pen in my own hand. His pen doesn't look cheap, colored in black with gold accents. 

He picks up my quill gingerly, as if it'll break with the slightest pressure. I stifle a laugh as he struggles to figure out how to hold it. "Here, let me," I tell him after watching him fail for longer than I'd like.

I place my hand around his, adjusting his fingers on the quill and the position of his hand. "Don't hold it straight up, hold it to the side. When you dip it into the ink, be quick when you write."

I pull my hands away and begin on my own, managing to find the clicker thing on the pen pretty easily. I didn't hear the scratching of the quill for a couple more minutes, but I smile a bit knowing that I could help him learn something new. Something that wasn't completely outlandish, anyways.

The end of the period comes more quickly than I expected, though I had finished my letter  about ten minutes in. Watching the classes awed faces was hilarious too. Instead of standing up, I had simply folded my letter into an origami butterfly. 

I gently lifted the butterfly in my hand, and noticed Namjoon's eyes on me. I smiled at him, a sense of happiness filling me. I blow on the butterfly softly, and with a bit of wind magic the butterfly actually flew, fluttering around the room a bit. 

Other students watched it go, smiling as well as it spun a bit around their heads, before making it's way to the teacher's desk. I looked over at Namjoon and saw a shocked expression yet again. I shrug at him, giving him a look like 'it was nothing'. 

The professor began to walk around the room with the letters, handing a few out starting from the front. Some students frown as she passes them by, since they didn't get a letter. She finally reaches our row, but there is still a large stack of papers in her hands. 

She drops the origami butterfly in front of Namjoon, because who else was I going to write a letter to? I don't know anyone else in this class. She then puts the ENTIRE STACK OF REMAINING PAPERS in front of me. I look around and notice that not even half of the class received letters, so most of them must have gone to me.

Great. Namjoon laughs a little at my dismayed expression, before gently picking up the butterfly. "I'll give you time to look those letters over," The teacher says, heading to the front. "While she does, I will start from the front for presenting."

I look over the letters, most of which asking me random questions, some confessions of friendship to which I groan mentally. After sifting through, I find one that actually peaks my interest. They spoke in a mature manner, creating a poem with their words. They are also the only one who didn't sign their name.

"Alright, Mr. Kim?" The teacher calls, and Namjoon stands up with the butterfly in his hand. He begins to unfold it with care, revealing my stationary and penmanship. I had also made sure to write his name beneath one of the wings so the teacher would know who it goes to. 

"Every day someone is born

Every day someone dies,

When that time comes for each of us,

will we regret our lies?

Those who suffer, suffer still

by blistered, charred hands,

promises made by conman's will

atop pedestals made of sand,

I've heard the hypocrisy, 

their screams, their cries,

but I see them submit themselves 

to be slaughtered like flies,

How can they call themselves heroes

when their actions are unjustified?

They've wounded so many, 

so they will never understand

Why I myself stand to the side."

The teacher claps, smiling proudly as Namjoon folds the butterfly back up. "Such beautiful poetry with an easy to understand message. Is it signed?"

Namjoon shakes his head, and the teacher gives him a sad smile. "Well, that's too bad," she says, before turning her attention to myself. "Miss Lee, have you chosen a letter?"

I reluctantly nod, standing beside Namjoon. I take a seat on the desk, crossing my legs and holding the paper out as if it's some big deal.

It really isn't, but my position causes everyone else to tune in attentively, intrigued already. I'm going to hate every second of this, but it's not like I have a choice.

"I've met a woman,

who has built a fortress,

when no war is being fought.

I've met a woman,

who stands with a loaded gun

aimed straight at my head.

I've met a woman,

who speaks like an angel

that has fallen too many times.

I've met a woman,

Who's heart is cased in ice

to which my fire cannot thaw.

Her tongue spits acidic venom 

that burns away at my skin,

but her words become salve

and I can't help but feel confused.

She is an Ice Queen,

 who will cool my blazing heart,

but freeze her own away."

I look over at Namjoon, already knowing who this may be. One, because it's clearly written about me, two, because he is the only person in the class I've talked to, and three, because he is a muse. I gently lay the paper on the table, and begin to fold it. 

The other students look over to see what I'm doing, even the teacher baffled. After a few moments what once was a poem is now an origami butterfly. His stationary is light blue with golden trim, a contrast to my own. 

I lift the butterfly up in my hand, facing Namjoon now. He smiles and sits on the desk, holding out his own. I gently blow on the butterfly in my hand, and it takes off with the wind. The other butterfly follows, both dancing in the air above the students.

I concentrate a bit as I make them swerve and loop, before sending them back to us. His blue butterfly in his hand, my green one in mine.

"That... was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen from a letter assignment," The teacher says with a smile, clasping her hands. "It seems that the two of you are both poets at heart. I expect nothing less from a muse, and of course a student of Miss Lee's caliber was sure to impress." 

The teacher walks back to the front of the class. "You're assignment today class is a special one. Instead of the one I had originally planned, I will instead ask each of you to pick one of those two butterfly poems that they read. Explain what you think the meaning is behind their words. You can write a paragraph, or draw a picture, I don't care."

"The author's are exempt from this assignment, consider it extra credit for a job well done. I'll be sending everyone a digital copy of the poems so you may reference them."

The bell rings, signaling for lunch to start. I sigh a bit and begin to pack my things, reaching over for the quill and ink vial. I honestly wasn't expecting to be the center of attention, but I guess I got a little carried away. I turn to Namjoon, holding out his pen for him to take. 

He smiles at me, taking it and putting it in his own bag. "Didn't take you for the type of girl to write poetry," he says with a raised brow. 

"I like to write down my thoughts rather than speak them, that's all. Also, ouch, you motherfucker! Ice Queen?" I say, frowning.

Namjoon laughs at my expression, shrugging a bit. "Damn, a tongue like a snake too!" He says before checking his phone. "Are you still joining us for lunch?" 

Any playfulness I was feeling melts away into disdain. I had forgotten about that, and Jungkook has probably already told everyone. "Yeah, I don't think I have much of a choice anyways," I reply, swinging my bag over my shoulder. He nods, and starts heading out the door, leaving it open for me. 

"Alrighty, I'll lead the way then," he says, and so I follow, expecting to be thrown into the depths of the underworld at this point.