Jongin has never been late. His life revolves around punctuality, hard work and a tie that is always tucked neatly into his uniform blazer. It’s how he became the first ever sophomore student body president. Jongin is always taking the bus before seven in the morning, but that day was different and so were the few days afterwards. To say that Kim Jongin was obsessed with being on time would be an exaggeration, as there was a point in time when he tried to be late.

Kim Jongin bursts through the door with his usually neat brown hair disheveled and black backpack barely hanging onto his shoulder. He rushes to the bus stop and mentally curses himself for taking the liberty of those extra three minutes of sleep he had after his alarm. He knew that staying up until 10:30PM last night was a bad idea and here he was paying the price.

Leaning against the stoplight pole, he groans and rapidly presses the “push-to-walk” button (because he thinks the more he presses, the faster the lights will change). By the time the sign changes, Jongin’s fingers are freezing cold; but he pays no mind to it as runs towards the now leaving bus. Jongin contemplates chasing after the vehicle with his abnormally long legs before a young man approaches the shelter.

Perhaps being slightly late wasn’t so bad after all.

The boy is wearing a cap and face mask that covers almost the entirety of his face, but Jongin can see bits and pieces of his shiny black hair. He’s wearing a school uniform similar to his yet the identity of this schoolmate escapes him. Cars zoom past the two of them and Jongin swallows hard, suddenly realizing he had been staring. The boy pays no heed to Jongin and continues tapping away at his phone, playing a type of cat game containing ritzy bits and the like.

A lump is forming in Jongin’s throat and his palms are feeling kind of sweaty but he doesn’t hate it. Jongin wants to say something and the words, “how’s the weather?” are at the tip of his tongue but nothing comes out. A bus comes to a stop in front of them and the boy shoves the phone into his pocket and proceeds to speed walk to the back.

Jongin fumbles with his wallet to pay the fare but by the time he looks up, the boy has been lost in the crowd of passengers. It wouldn’t hurt to miss the bus again, would it?

--

It’s a lovely February morning when Jongin wakes up and his phone is blasting his favourite gospel music at seven sharp, but he forces his eyes closed for a little bit longer. When exactly three minutes pass, Jongin jumps out of bed and puts himself through the insanity he dreaded yesterday. Today, he’s taking the bus at eight instead of before, just like yesterday.

With his once again messy hair, he waits patiently at the bus shelter. And just as he predicted, the boy takes a seat on the shelter bench again. The bare trees are swaying in the wind, and the two boys are standing two centimeters closer than yesterday, Jongin notes excitedly.

Looking into the blurry reflection in the bus shelter walls, Jongin sees the boy’s head shift slightly towards him for a quick glance. Jongin smiles to himself and holds his face in his hands, noticing it getting hotter by the second. He isn’t sure what this feeling is, but he wouldn’t mind getting used to it.

--

The first two weeks of this chilly February passed by like a dream for Jongin. The highlight of his days has been seeing the masked boy at the bus stop. The beauty of the late rising winter sun couldn’t compare to him.

Jongin noticed little things about him. He noticed that he liked to wear black (his coat, his shoes, his hat, his mask… everything was black). He noticed he had an affinity for incredibly sweet chocolate and lollipops (though he’d never seen him tug down his mask eat them; all he saw were the remaining wrappers hanging out of his jacket pocket). He was like a mystery novel, Jongin thought. Learning about the boy made him happy.

Every day when Jongin saw him and his half covered face, he felt his heart beating faster and his cold hands beginning to sweat. It was like he was back in middle school, with a pimply face and odd fashion sense, asking the prettiest girl in school to dance.

--

“I think you have a crush dude,” Jongin’s friend Sehun says absentmindedly, as he scrolls through his phone.

“On a guy he knows nothing about,” another friend chimes in, rolling his eyes. “It’s not going to go any where, you know that right?”

Jongin looks down at his lunch, his face reddening. So that’s what it was. An aimless crush.

“Leave him alone, Taemin,” one of the girls at the table replies. “I think it’s cute, don’t listen to him Jongin,” she assures, wrapping her arms around him, almost cradling the boy.

“Krystal’s probably just saying that because she’s single,” Sehun whispers to Taemin, receiving a howling laugh in return. “I bet she just wants to experience a relationship through him.”

Krystal lets go of Jongin and shoots the two a glare, not even uttering a word before the boys are averting their eyes elsewhere. Jongin keeps his head down, prodding at his lunch. Taemin’s words resonate in him and he hates it because he knows he’s right. He’s infatuated with a boy he’s never actually met. For all he knows, he could be some who steals candy from children. Or worse, an who offers candy to children.

“No, they’re right, Krystal,” Jongin mutters. “It’s stupid. I’ve never even talked to him. I don’t think I ever will,” he relents as his shoulder slump.

“Great job, you broke our friend,” Krystal hisses, rubbing circles on his back.

Taemin sighs and pokes at Jongin’s face, forcing him to look up. “We’re not right, Jongin,” he softens. “I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want you to be disappointed when you find out who that guy is, that’s all. What I’m worried about is whether or not he’ll meet your expectations.”

“I still think you should pursue this crush,” Krystal nudges his side, grinning widely. “It’s definitely worth a shot.”

Jongin gives a small smile and runs a hand through his hair. “I still don’t know if I’m capable of talking to him,” he admitted. “I get so jittery when he’s near. He’s breathtaking. Like literally. Sometimes I have to take out my inhaler if he stands 5 centimetres closer than usual.”

“Jesus Christ he probably thinks you’re a nerd,” Taemin cackled.

“Shut it,” Krystal snapped, stretching her arm across the table to land a hard punch. “But gosh Jongin, you’re seriously head over heels for this guy.”

“I guess,” he blushes, hiding his face in his hands. “What am I gonna do?”

“Why don’t you give him roses or something?” Sehun interjects, still never leaving his phone.

Taemin raises a brow, snatching Sehun’s phone from his hand. “Roses?” he repeats confusedly.

“Yes, roses. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Sehun grumbles, trying to grab at his phone in annoyance.

“Roses! Sehun you’re a genius,” Krystal shouts, clasping her hands together.

Taemin shoves Sehun’s face away, eyebrows remaining furrowed. Jongin and Krystal stifle a laugh when Taemin accidentally hits the younger straight in the face with abnormally long arms. Sehun scoffs obnoxiously and gives up on his phone, crossing his arms. “Anyways,” Sehun clears his throat in attempt to regain composure, “what I mean is you should give him roses or something.”

“That’s stupid,” Taemin objects, “why would he do that?”

“Because next week is Valentine’s Day, stupid,” Sehun retorts, successfully taking his device back. “If Jongin’s going to confess, what better day to do it than Valentine’s Day? With a rose here and a quick ‘Hey I like you. You’re the reason I need my puffer’ there, edgy mask boy will be his in no time.”

Jongin looks at his friends in uncertainty, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. “Do you think it’ll work?” he falters. “Like are you positive?”

“No, I’m Oh Sehun.”

--

Jongin isn’t too sure of what happened in the whirlwind of days that came after that lunch; but what he does know is that he somehow ended up with a large bouquet of pink, white and red roses in the loveliest ribbon and wrapping paper he’s ever seen and a much too expensive box of chocolates in his possession.

However, he does recall Krystal dragging the three of them into the city, sifting through ever florist and confectionery there was until they found “the Valentine’s Day gifts that would blow mask boy away,” which wasn’t discovered until yesterday evening.

Jongin adjusts his tie and slips it into his blazer, fixing his hair one last time before blasting off downstairs. It feels like he’s got a million butterflies in his stomach; like he has a million presentations to do today. Jongin quickly kisses his family goodbye and rushes out, arms cradling the roses and chocolates.

Today Jongin feels more out of breath than usual, having already used his inhaler twice this morning.

Today he will confess to mask boy.

Today is Valentine’s Day.

--

Jongin arrives at the bus stop at exactly 6:55AM with rosy cheeks and a large grin plastered on his face. And as usual, he waits five minutes for mask boy to arrive, watching as a bus drives ahead, leaving him behind.

It’s exactly 7 o’ clock and there is no sign of mask boy. But still, he waits. Jongin holds the bouquet and chocolates closer to him, waddling closer to the bus shelter to avoid people running into him. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes now, but he has hope.

Another five minutes pass and Jongin is starting to get anxious. Where is he? What’s he doing? Did he get hurt? Did he suddenly decide to stop taking the bus from now on? Or what if someone already confessed to him? What if he’s on his way to the wedding chapel now to marry the alleged confessor? Jongin’s arms are getting tired, just like how he’s getting tired of waiting. The sun peaks out of the clouds and shines on his face, contrasting his now gloomy disposition.

It’s 7:25 and if Jongin doesn’t take the next bus now, he will most definitely be late. The large grin on his face has now dissipated and has been reduced to a pout. His arms have begun to ache from the extended amount of time they’ve been stretched out. Jongin sighs and mutters to himself, mostly words of discouragement and things like, “I should have known better” and “What was I thinking?”.

Jongin tosses the fragrant flowers in the municipal trash can and stares blankly at it until a bus pulls over. Jongin dejectedly boards the vehicle and swipes his card, throwing his body onto the nearest seat possible and begins to sulk.

At least he had Taemin, Sehun and Krystal to eat the chocolates with, he thought.

Jongin smiled to himself.

--

Kyungsoo looks like a tornado hit him when he rushes out, trying his best to avoid his mother’s wrath. It’s not like he particularly cared about getting to classes on time (because he really didn’t). He cared more about letting his mother think he went to class on time. So before anybody could see him, Kyungsoo leaves the house, almost flying out the door due to how fast he was running.

After a block or two, Kyungsoo leisurely presses the push-to-walk button on the stoplight pole. The sun is particularly bright today and he regrets not shoving his cap in his backpack before leaving home.

“Ah whatever,” he shrugs, reaching into his pocket for a lollipop.

In the distance, Kyungsoo sees a brooding teenaged boy with a mess of roses and chocolates in arms. Before he could even process his thoughts, the boy threw the flowers away, shoulders clearly slumping. Kyungsoo squints, trying to make out the figure in his school’s uniform from across the road.

“What’s fruitcake doing with roses?” he raises a brow, lollipop hanging out of his mouth like a cigarette.

Kyungsoo watches as Jongin glumly waddles towards the bus until he disappears into it. Kyungsoo clicks his tongue and ruffles his new deep red hair with one hand, shoving the other in his jacket. “Oh well,” he says to himself, humming a happy tune as he strides down the crosswalk.

When Kyungsoo nears the stop, he peers into the trash can and tosses his lollipop on top of the roses and proceeds to hop on the bus. Upon boarding the bus, he sees Jongin sitting in the corner by himself, ears and cheeks as red as ever. Kyungsoo wonders if he had to wait a long time for the bus. Maybe Jongin should invest in a scarf.

Kyungsoo walks towards Jongin and stands two seats away. From the corner of his eye he can see Jongin smiling to himself with a box of fancy chocolates in his lap.

My favourite, Kyungsoo thinks to himself as he takes hold of the straphanger.