Runners near the Han River were few, where James usually jogged when it was dark, so people didn't recognize him. He suggested to Muse that they run that evening, thinking that physical activity might make conversation easier. Muse set a comfortable pace that allowed for small chat while still providing the steady rhythm James had hoped would calm his nerves.
"Something is on your mind? My school activities?" Muse observed as they settled into their stride along the river path.
"How can you tell?"
"Because you keep adjusting your pace already the fifth time."
James realized she was right; he'd been unconsciously speeding up and slowing down, trying to find the more intimate word, a sign, a place.
"I don't know how not to analyze everything," James confessed, forcing himself to maintain a steady pace.
"Then analyze this," Muse said, gesturing to the river view as they ran. "What do you notice when you're not worried about anything?"
James glanced around. "I notice... how the rhythm of running makes conversation feel less pressured. And how you look completely natural doing this, like you're not worried about anything."
"That's because I'm not worried about anything," Muse replied. "I'm just enjoying running with someone I like."
"Even though I'm overthinking everything?"
"Especially because you're overthinking everything," Muse laughed. "Watching you discover how to be present is fascinating. It's like watching someone learn a new language."
* * *
As Jake learned to feel movement rather than examine it, Vic was about to discover whether three hours of botanical research constituted thoughtful preparation or obsessive overengineering. He stood outside the pet shop where he'd arranged to meet Sera, clutching his researched flower arrangement like evidence in case he might have already lost.
Sera suggested meeting at the pet shop, where she volunteers on weekends, helping with animal care and adoption events. When Vic arrived, the noise of barking, chirping, and animal chaos overwhelmed his usual senses, which were usually focused on flowers. Sera emerged from the back room carrying a small tabby kitten that was determinedly trying to climb onto her shoulder.
"You brought flowers to a pet shop," she observed with amusement, gently redirecting the kitten's climbing attempts. "That's either very optimistic about the animals' botanical appreciation or a complete miscalculation of appropriate gifts."
"I researched the symbolic meanings for three hours," Vic admitted, offering her the bouquet while eyeing the kitten warily. "Yellow roses for friendship, white roses for new beginnings, purple tulips for enchantment, and baby's breath for everlasting love, though in an aspirational sense, not presumptuous…"
"Vic," Sera's eyes widened, "you spent three hours creating a flower sentence to say you like me?"
"It appears that," he said, wondering if honesty about his flower research made him seem thoughtful or obsessive.
"That's the most elegant thing anyone's ever done for me," Sera said, accepting the flowers while simultaneously preventing the kitten from scratching them. "Even if it is completely ridiculous."
"Ridiculous how?" Vic asked, immediately questioning whether ridiculous-but-thoughtful was better than boring-but-normal.
"Ridiculous in the sweetest way," Sera clarified, settling the kitten into a nearby play area. "Like you learned an entire language just to say hello."
The kitten immediately escaped and made a beeline for Vic's flowers, finding them the most interesting climbing structure available. Vic watched in horror as his carefully researched botanical symbolism was transformed into a cat toy.
"Should I rescue them?" he asked uncertainly.
"Let her play," Sera laughed. "Flowers are temporary anyway. Besides, watching you try to explain flower meanings to a kitten might be even more entertaining than the original gesture."
As night fell and members returned to the dorm, they gathered in the living room despite feeling tired.
Silas collapsed onto the couch first. "She said 'this was nice' when we left, but what does 'nice' mean? Good nice, or polite nice? And should I have suggested extending the evening, or was leaving early good because it shows I'm not pushy?"
Jon entered, still wearing his apron, which had become his security blanket. "She laughed when I dropped that whisk, but was it enjoying laughter or pity laughter? And when she said my organization system was 'helpful,' did that mean really helpful or politely helpful?"
Jake came next, carrying his song selection notes as if they were essential documents. "She admitted to planning conversation topics, too, which means either we're both ridiculous or we're perfectly matched in our ridiculousness. But I couldn't determine which interpretation was more accurate."
Roman arrived with his tablet and immediately began sharing data. "Our cycling conversation maintained optimal flow for 73% of the route, with three instances of great emotional connection, but when she said I was 'surprisingly present,' was that commentary on my absence or appreciation for my current attention?"
Julian bounced in, somehow still energetic despite his emotional exhaustion. "She said I was 'myself' at the club, but what does that mean when you're constantly monitoring your energy? And when she suggested getting coffee, her enthusiasm level seemed real, but I need to verify the accuracy of my interpretation."
James hurried last, still sweaty from running. "She said watching me learn to be present was 'fascinating,' but fascinating could mean interesting-good or interesting-concerning. And she laughed when I admitted to redundant change of pace, but laughter interpretation requires context I don't possess."
Vic had been sitting the entire time quietly, staring at his phone with laser focus. "She texted 'thank you for the flower tutorial and kitten entertainment' forty-seven minutes ago. Should I respond immediately to show attention, or wait to avoid seeming desperate? And does combining flowers with kitten chaos in one message indicate positive or chaotic association?"
They all looked at each other, the weight of their collective amorous inexperience settling over the room like fog.
"So," Jon said finally, "we're all completely hopeless."
"Statistically speaking, yes," Roman confirmed, consulting his tablet. "Based on current trajectories, we have approximately a 12% chance of successful romantic progression."
"That's terrifying," James observed.
"But also, kind of liberating," Julian added. "If we fail through overthinking, maybe we should try not thinking instead?"
"How does one 'not think'?" Roman asked with academic curiosity.
"I have no idea," James admitted. "But thinking isn't working."
"We need to learn how not to analyze every action," Vic concluded.
"That sounds impossible," Silas said.
"More impossible than our current 12% success rate?" Jon challenged.
The room fell silent as they contemplated this mathematical reality.
"Hypothetically speaking," Jake said finally, "how would we learn not to overthink?"
"Practice?" Julian suggested.
"Practice what, exactly?" Roman asked.
"Dating things," James replied vaguely. "Romantic things. All the things we have no idea how to do."
"Like conversation that flows naturally, knowing when to make a move, physical affection that isn't awkward..." Jon enumerated.
"Oh," Julian said, understanding dawning. "You mean we need to practice dating?"
"With each other?" Jake asked, horrified.
"Emergency romantic education," Jon confirmed, warming to the idea. "Practice scenarios. Controlled environment."
"That's either brilliant or the worst idea anyone's ever had," Vic observed.
"Probably both," Roman agreed. "But our current approach has a 12% success rate."
The arm of the wall clock was nearing midnight.
"Now?" Jon suggested, his voice carrying the determination of someone about making a spectacularly questionable decision.
"Now," they agreed unanimously, sealing their fate with the kind of confidence that only comes from complete desperation.
Julian was already bouncing toward the kitchen. "I'll get supplies!"
"What kind of supplies?" Jake called after him, though he was afraid to hear the answer.
"You'll see!" Julian's voice echoed back, followed by the sound of cabinets opening and closing with alarming enthusiasm.
Roman was frantically typing notes on his tablet. "We need structure. Methodology. A systematic approach to romantic skill acquisition…"
"We need help," Silas interrupted, watching Julian return with an armload of mysterious items. "Professional help."
"Too late for that," James muttered, staring at what appeared to be fruit in Julian's arms. "We're doing this, aren't we?"
"Emergency romantic education," Jon confirmed, though his voice carried the faint tremor of someone who suspected they were about to cross a line they could never uncross. "How hard could it be?"