Once school ends, you quickly grab your things and bolt out of the classroom before those guys from earlier might find you and surround you with their meddlesome questions again. 

You haven’t seen Daehyun all day. You really start to get the feeling that he’s avoiding you, and yet every time you think that, you tell yourself that assuming he’ll do that would just contradict his seemingly mature self. It makes you guilty, but you have to admit that not being with him is a little liberating; at least there’s one less thing  for people to talk about out. However, you’ve grown so used to his presence, quietly standing by you when you walk down the halls, that you can’t help but unconsciously search for him. 

Where is he? Exiting the school building, you stare at the ground and keep your head down. Is it possible that he’s gone home already? You don’t think that would be true. You’re about to kick a particularly large stone across the pavement when a hand pops into your vision.

“Yo!” Daehyun says, straightening as he shoves his hands in his pockets. His blond hair gleams underneath the bright streaks of the sun. Relieved to find that he doesn’t seem perturbed, you give him a warm smile. 

“Hey,” you say, and fall into step beside him. 

“Aish, it’s hot,” he complains, and reaches over to undo the top button of his collar. You look away before he notices you’re staring at him. “Sorry I wasn’t at the cafeteria. I had to do some extra credit work.”

“Over achiever,” you tease, and he scoffs.

“Anyway,” he continues, “my day was pretty good. How ‘bout you? Did it … go well?” he looks at you, concerned, and in that moment you see that he wants you to answer his unasked question. 

“I’m … yeah. I’m okay.” You gulp nervously and say, “It was good. Fine.” You decide to leave out the fact that those boys had bugged you again, because Daehyun might get angry and do something. “Something weird did happen, though.”

“Yeah?” he asks, curious. “What’s that?”

“I got a note,” you say, pulling out the piece of paper that had been inserted into your locker. “It’s a quote. I don’t know what it was doing there, but … ” you show it to him, and he takes it from his hands and reads it over. You watch his face, searching for clues, before he gives it back to you with a blank expression.

“That’s a quote by Martin Luther Jr., you know.”

“How would you know that?” you ask, suspicious.

“Because I,” he winks, “am I genius.” Before you can reply, he adds, “Actually, I know that because I was at a museum this past summer, and they had quotes of famous people. And that was one of them.”

“Well … it’s a nice quote,” you admit. “But I don’t really get what it was doing in my locker. I don’t think it’s a prank. But I don’t get what I’m gonna gain from this. They probably just mistook my locker for someone else’s.” You hesitate before asking, “Did you put this here?”

You had meant it as a joke, but you can tell by the way Daehyun refuses your claim that he’s taking it seriously.

“If I had something to tell you, I’d tell you,” he says. “Anyway, I don’t think there’s anything to be suspicious about those notes. You’ll probably find out soon enough, if they keep coming.”

“Well, they might not,” you say, and stuff it back into your pocket just as you and Daehyun cross the street.

“Who knows,” he shrugs lazily. “Maybe you have a secret admirer.”

You whack him playfully on the shoulder, and he feigns pain and cringes. Your action proves that you’ve reached this point of comfortability with him, and it makes you happy to know that. You smile as he rubs his shoulder and makes a face at you.

“I’m being serious!” he exclaims, then laughs. “Whatever. Anyway. You’re probably gonna do homework when you come home, right? That’s what you always do.”

How does he know that? You have to admit, it would make sense that he’d assume such a thing, since every time you come home all you ever do is stay inside unless something tempts you to leave. 

“Probably. Why?” 

“I got my allowance yesterday,” he says calmly.

“Mail? We get mail here?”

“Of course we get mail here,” he says, giving you a weird look. “We have slots right in front of the houses. Didn’t you look?” You shake your head, admitting that you hadn’t. “Well, you can look when you get home. But as I was saying,” he says, fixing the strap of his backpack, “I got my allowance, and I’m going out for dinner tonight. But it’s nothing fancy. I’m going to the outdoor food stalls,” he grins. “But if you’re doing homework, it’s fine.”

You have an inkling of what he’s about to ask, but you’d rather hear it from him than continue his invite with your own words. “What are you getting at?”

“You have homework. It’s fine.”

You give him an amused look. “Homework won’t take me the whole day.”

“Aw, gee, you’re making this hard, you know? You’re supposed to say, ‘I’m not busy’. You know?” Looking nervous (and adorably cute), he stops in his tracks and asks you, with a sincere face, “…when you’re done with homework, or whatever it is you do, and cleaning, and if you have … nothing to do … yeah, I’m inviting you. I guess. Is what I’m saying. You wanna … join me for dinner?”