Just twenty more minutes. My eyes dart to the clock, and then to the teacher's face, and then to the clock again.

From the corner of my eye I can see Jiyoung, sitting beside me. He's not moving. Is he dozing off? Listening to the teacher? Writing his notes as usual? Is he... looking at me?

Does he know what happened?

I duck my head, using my hair to shield myself from him. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"Jae Eun, what do you think?" the teacher asks, and I blink at my paper, stunned.

I furiously read through the worksheet, as silence stretches. I can feel the glare of everyone's eyes on me. Jiyoung doesn't say anything. No one says anything to help me. My heartbeat races, my stomach feels queasy.

I fume. Can't the teacher tell that I don't know the answer? Shouldn't he be asking someone else? Why is he so persistent?

"I, erm," I croak, and hurriedly clear my throat. Usually Jiyoung would help me. But this time, there is no sign of help. A dagger rips through my chest at this realisation. Of course, he must know that I like him.

The familiar burn of tears pricks my eyes. No no no, not now. Why now, when everyone is looking at me?

I lower my head further, but my sniffle gives myself away.

The teacher clears his throat. Uncomfortably. Why is she crying just because she can't answer a question?

What's wrong with her? She's seriously so weird.

"As I was saying, the UN troops..." the teacher continues on, as if nothing has happened. 

The tears brim, and overflow, spreading ugly splotches acoss my worksheet. I want to scream. I want to be invisible. 

With my hair as a shield from everyone's prying eyes, I slip my hands over my drenched face, desperately willing the tears to stop.

Jiyoung must hate me now. The teacher must hate me now.

Just like how everyone hates me.

---

I shudder. And instantly berate myself for being so weak.

I'm over it now. 

"Jae Eun, you up for it? Just for today," the chairman says, his heavy stare expectant.

"Yeah, sure!" I chirp, but my voice quivers slightly. Jae Eun, you are over it.

I smile, heading over to where the actors are standing in the middle of the classroom, script in hand.

I don't know what I am doing here. It's the rehearsals period, and technically, while script writers have the authority to direct and guide actors, nobody really does it. Well, except me, of course.

This is why I want to be a script writer! Why on Earth would I miss this chance?

Yet, right now, I just wish I could be wrapped in my blankets like a burito. 

I glance at the actors, laughing and talking amongst themselves about who-knows-what. A familiar pang of fear strikes me. No, I'm over this. I am over this. I am no longer like the Jae Eun of the past. I can do this.

Who am I kidding? Why did I even come when I wasn't needed? I'm sure they're secretly judging me.

"Alright guys, let's start." They disperse with a few lingering goodbye's as if they were parting forever. "Scene 1. Get into your positions. Ready? Go!" 

The play unfolds. Since this is the first rehearsal, everyone is allowed to hold scripts as they act.

Park Bo Gum enters the scene, wearing a pair of thin-metallic round glasses. It's a small touch but it spices up his character. 

He says his lines almost perfectly, putting all the other actors to shame. No doubt, that's Park Bo Gum for you. And he's not even carrying the script today! This guy was born to be an actor.

Every line he says carries emotion. The club grows silent, mesmerized by this "teacher" who is caring, charismatic and selfless.

My stomach flips over when his lines near my part. Well, not my part per se, but that actor whom I'm replacing today. I have an ominous feeling. First, he questions the lines I've given him, and now he doesn't come at all? I hope I'm thinking too much.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this!

I ignore all the discriminating gazes I'm probably getting now, and try my best to waltz into the stage.

I put my hand in my pocket. Don't be nervous. 

"Hey, Kim Seunggi, you're late again! Where is your math assignment that was due yesterday?" Park Bo Gum demands, pushing up his glasses.

"Sorry *Sam," I drawl, looking at him from the corner of my eyes. I shuffle to my seat, and lean back on it, planting my two feet against the desk. 

Park Bo Gum's teacherly face breaks for a second as his eyes dart away. I snap my two legs close, belatedly aware of my skirt-cladded legs raised against the desk.

I look at the script for assurance.

"Seunggi ah," Park Bo Gum's voice is assertive, but soft. He walks over, as I stare at the ceiling in defiance. "I know that it's difficult to earn money, but--"

"Sam," I snap, but my voice croaks instead. This feels very familiar, for some reason. Laughter erupts from the crowd. My face is scorching hot, and I stare at the script in my hand intensely. 

"Alright Jae Eun, you don't have to try so hard. Just read the lines for this rehearsal, that will do." the chairman speaks, and I nod, still looking at my paper.

"Sam, it is difficult to earn money. What's the use of studying math? Is it going to help me become rich? Just mind your own business, seriously." I say, eyes glued on my script. 

"SLAM!" Park Bo Gum's hand lands on the desk. But I am so mortified by shame that it doesn't even shock me.

"Fine, get out then. If you don't need remedial; get out." I hear him say. 

I nod, and awkwardly exit the stage. 

---

"Alright! Good work, everyone!" the chairman exclaims, clapping his hands slowly. Hardly anyone is listening. Naturally, everyone files out of the clubroom, heading towards supper (wherever that will be). 

I distance myself, following behind them, and naturally slow my steps once we reach the bus stop. My heart feels heavy for some reason, and I hurriedly plug in my earphones to drown out this heaviness.

A light and quick tap-tap on my shoulder. I look up to see Park Bo Gum; his lips moving. I vaguely gather the words, "Aren't you joining us?"

"No," I say with a shake of my head, Seventeen's music still blasting through my ears.

Of course, I'm not joining them. Why on earth would I join the popular people? Usually, at least a few of the writers will be around, but today they gave a no-show.

For some reason, Park Bo Gum continues talking, twirling his hands around his backpack's straps and rocking himself lightly on his heels.

"Sorry, what?" I say, removing my ear phones. 

"Wow," he says, reeling, "So you weren't listening to me at all?" 

"I..." I laugh, "I did! You asked me if I was joining you guys. I'm not." 

Crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at me, he says, "So you really didn't hear what I said after that."

Is he joking? I think he's joking.

"Erm... I'm sorry," I say, playing it safe. I smile, brightly, my hands flusteredly gesturing, "You should quickly go now, before you get left behind."

"Wow, so now you're chasing me away." He says, his face becoming dark.

"Anniya!" I protest, waving my hands frantically, and secretly inch back. 

"Ha!" He chuckles, punching me in the shoulder. "I'm kidding. Am I that scary?"

"No... of course not..." I smile sheepishly, although at this moment, I remember the cold encounters I've had with him. "Ha ha ha..."

"I asked you what bus you were taking," he said, as he rudely snatches my phone from my hands. "Seventeen huh..."

"Oh," I say absentmindedly, internally debating whether I should snatch my phone back, "I'm taking bus 93."

"No way! I take that bus too!" He says, eyes widening as he hands me back my phone.

"You, take the bus?" I blurt out, before I can stop myself.

His expression darkens, as he narrows his eyes at me, a look that is begginning to become all too familiar. 

"I'm sorry! I don't mean-"

"I'm kidding! Geez!" He laughs, shoving me at the side. I scarcely laugh along. Talking to Park Bo Gum is not good for my health. I feel like my life was just shortened by 10 years.

"But yeah. I take the bus. I don't have a chauffeur to drive me around, contrary to popular belief." He says offhandedly, flipping his fringe as he does so. Any anxiety that I had evaporates right away, laughter escaping from my chest.

---

After several heart attacks of Park Bo Gum being ice cold, we settle into a somewhat comfortable (as comfortable as someone like me can be around Park Bo Gum) conversation. We sit at the back of the bus, the sky darkening at an accelerating speed, but the atmosphere drowsy with a handful of fatigued students. I learn that he stays a couple of bus stops away from me.

This is a huge surprise. I had always thought that Park Bo Gum stayed in somewhere like Seoul, or even Gangnam.

"By the way," he says smiling, "You weren't that bad just now." 

I freeze, instantly realizing what he is referring to. "Yeah," is all I can muster.

"I'm kidding," he says for the umpteenth time, and then gushes, "You were amazing! I never knew you could act so well, Jae Eun-ah!" 

I search his face for any sign of him kidding (I think I'm getting better at it, I hope), but the smile that lights up his face is so innocent that I can't help but trust him.

"Thank you..." I say slowly, "But I don't think everyone thought that way."

"Why? That being your first time, I really think you were amazing." He says, grinning.

"Oh, I think your stop is coming soon." I say, glancing out of the window. 

"You're right," he mumbles, gathering his bag as the bus slows down near a row of uniformed apartments.

"Bye!" I wave, chirpily.

"Goodbye Jae Eun ah," He grins, standing up.

Suddenly, he turns back, a gentler smile on his face, "Don't worry about the club members. They're really nice people. And you were amazing today." 

With a wave, he alights the bus. I watch as he leaves and waves once more through the bus window.

The heaviness in my heart lifts a little.

He may have severe mood swings, and is one of those "popular people", but he's not a bad person.

---

[A/N] Thanks for sticking it through with this story!! :>