"Wah, most of the boys from the Art High School are looking at you" 

Most of my girls' classmates start to flock around Yoona to share the boys' attention. Yoona seems uncomfortable but she never show it on her face. Well, she never show any disappoinment-face to anyone; even me. I just know her feelings by instinct. 

"Haha. Maybe they're just looking at the art in front of us." Yoona really smooth to get out from the attention but everyone know it's not true. She's the attention of the boys that stand behind us.

I smiles while looking at her after she and the girls go to the other arts with more space for them to crowd together. 

Yoona hates a boring-like-a-museum place. An art gallery isn't for her.

My eyes go back to the art in front of me. A field of roses. It's beautiful I wonder if I can be one of them.

"It's beautiful"

A boy with a broad-shoulder stood beside me. Since when he was standing here? I thought the boys behind us already follow Yoona to another place. "Of course it's beautiful. They're roses." I smile cheekily as I gaze at him. 

"I'm not talking about the roses" He return my smile as he look at me. 

My hair start to close my vision as they're falling down from my shoulder. I sigh as I grab all of my hair to one side. I love my long hair but at the same it's just frustating that my hair easily close my vision. 

"I didn't think the art is about the roses" He continue as he take his hand out from his pocket and give my favourite hairband to me.

I'm glad someone save it at the entrance because this hairband is from my mom. But how does he know this hairband is mine?  "Then, what do you think the artist is trying to focus, then?" I tie my hair into a ponytail. I shake my head as I feel my hair swings to left and right. It feels great that I smile.

"The daisy"

I stop shaking my head and look at him. 

"The artist saw a daisy in a field of roses." He stop and stare at a spot in the art that we're talking about. "But I don't think he had any intentions to not draw the daisy because .." He lock his eyes with mine voluntarily as he continues. "..the daisy still look beautiful in that field of roses"

I know that both of us only talk about the art in front of us literally. But why my heart flutters as if those words are meant for me? "It's a wildflower." I stress my words. "Don't you think it doesn't belong in that field at the first place?"

He chuckled. "I kinda like it more since it's wild. It can live whereever it goes but still manage to look pretty." 

Never thought someone could actually think like that. His words give me a hope that there will someone out there can accept just the way I am. Rather than waiting for a boy to like me, I really need to like myself first. I don't have to be a rose to be pretty. Daisy's also a flower. And beautiful, too. I feel better than before.

I look at him after I stare at the daisy in the art in front of us for a long time. His eyes already on me. "What are you thinking about, right now? Mr. Genius-From-Nowhere."

He laugh softly, but it seems the laugh is for him. I swear, I can hear him chuckling for another three years if I could. 

"Nothing. Just thinking. Why in this gallery full of masterpiece of drawings, I'm still looking at you"