“Hi … ” you trail off, and mumble your own name to him. People are staring. People are staring, and the last thing you need is to be affiliated with the likes of this strange guy.

And it’s not that you don’t like him, it’s not that at all. He seems really polite and, you have to admit, extremely good-looking. But if more and more people stare, then more and more people will invariably come to you with mocking questions. You have enough on your plate, enough expectations of being bogged down by sarcastic statements related to your father or being shunned by the people whom you had once thought of as your friends. At least people know what’s going on, and they’ll either ignore you or interrogate you. But if you’re caught speaking any longer to this guy, a guy you had met only once before but is treating you so familiarly as if he’s known you for years, then your fall down the social pyramid will be disastrously quick.

Right now, you’d rather hold on to the little pride you have left.

“I have to get to class,” you say as an excuse, and he kindly steps back to allow you space. Without giving him a backward glance, you fly by him with your books held to your chest and hurry into your classroom. You’re late to class, you realize, and it’s the first time you’ve ever been late in your life. People stare at you as you are forced to take the seat in the front, a decision you had not wanted for yourself. You can feel the judging stares pierce your back, and you duck your head and take out your text books, hoping that this school day will pass by as smoothly as it possibly can.

When the bell rings for lunch, you wait for everybody else to leave before packing up your own books. Still keeping your head down,  you trudge out of your classroom and into the hallway.

You hate this feeling. This vulnerable, hopeless feeling. You almost want to hate your own dad for being so selfish and irresponsible, but you haven’t reached that point of breaking yet. Right now, what hurts the most beside your lack of status is the fact that none of the people whom you had called friends had come to comfort you. None of them had come to ask how you are. Is it shallow to want that for yourself? To hear a word of assurance that you’re not as low as you’re made to feel?

But the whispers … they’re so, so loud. It sickens you.

Never before have you walked down a hallway by yourself. Never before have you, once the queen of the school, sat at a table in the cafeteria by yourself. You realize, with a tinge of surprise, that you haven’t done many things by yourself. It’s a little … regretful. And lonely.

You set your tray down on the table and briefly close your eyes. You can act, can’t you? It shouldn’t be too hard to pretend that this situation hasn’t taken a toll on you. You open your eyes and are about to plaster a smile on your face when someone slams his tray on the table. You look up, a little bewildered and a little pleased, as you see Daehyun take a seat next to you.

“Hello,” he says brightly, and begins to twist the cap off his drink. You stare at him, not really understanding what he’s doing sitting with your downgraded self. He looks up after a few seconds, as if just noticing that all you’ve been doing is watching him, and gives you a hesitant smile. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to,” he says. “I just figured you could have someone to sit next to.”

Who is he to say that? You think angrily. You’re fine. You can handle yourself. You say that, you think that, and you’re sure you feel that way, and yet … and yet, you’re secretly happy he’s here. Even if he is a little weird. And peculiar. 

Daehyun keeps his word; he doesn’t talk to you at all during the whole lunch period. Even when the bell rings to signal the start of the next classes, he simply takes his tray and walks away. You honestly don’t get that guy. Who actually keeps their word these days? Nobody does that anymore. Not your friends, and their empty promises. Not your father. And yet there this guy is, a living contradiction to that accepted fact. 

Why is he being so nice to you? He doesn’t even know you. He doesn’t even know you, and yet … and yet, he’s made you feel in a way none of your so-called friends have ever made you feel.

Thankfully, the rest of the school day finishes easily. You start to walk home, not bothering to take the bus since it will only replete what little money you have. Maybe you should get a job, just in case your dad doesn’t send you money. But … a job? You’ve never had one, and you’ve never had the need to. You shake your head and squint at the street, trying to remember what route the bus had taken to take you to school. It had turned here, hadn’t it? Trusting your instinct, you attempt to retrace the bus’s path.

After a few minutes you have this inkling that you are being followed. The notion sends cold tingles up your spine, and although you want to stop and identify your follower, you can’t bring yourself to do it. But you can hear it: the footsteps that follow your own, padding softly but surely. You stop suddenly, just to see what would happen, and the person that follows  you keeps walking. Closer, closer, closer, this suspicious person nears you until you are forced to spin around and shout, “Are you following me?”

You blink in surprise: it’s Daehyun. He stares at you, a little insulted that you’d accuse him of such an act.

“Of course not,” he scoffs. Without another word, he walks past you, taking the path you were sure the bus had taken. You eye him curiously before slowly lagging behind him. He’ll probably taken another route and thus disappear from your life for the moment, and yet every time you make the decision to go down this path, or that path, so does he. It’s like, unknowingly, he’s memorized the route your bus had taken. Which doesn’t make sense, since he hadn’t been on that bus. 

After a few minutes, you arrive at your home. You’re glad of your achievement and are about to enter your house when you remember that you had left your key inside your house in your hurry to go to school. No, this can’t be happening … as if your day hasn’t been going badly enough. You search your pockets, hoping that maybe you’re wrong, but … it’s true. Your keys aren’t with you, and you have successfully locked yourself out of a house you haven’t even lived in for more than twenty-four hours.

“Is something wrong?” Daehyun asks. He approaches you, rather timidly, and watches your distraught face. You shake your head. Why is he here? As if you haven’t been humiliated enough. You live in this awful, rundown place, and here this guy with a full scholarship is, witnessing this embarrassing scene. 

“It’s locked,” you say, thinking, what the heck, you might as well tell him that you live here. He’s seen the place, anyway. He’s probably assumed the worst already. “I’m locked out of my own house.”

“Oh, that?” he says, and searches his pockets for something. He pulls out a strange-looking wire and and inserts it into the keyhole. “Most of the locks here are built really simply,” he says as he wiggles the doorknob. “They are easily,” at this something inside the lock clicks, and he twists the knob and pushes the door open, “… unlocked.”

“How did you … ” you gasp and stare at your open door. “That’s horrible,” you say, truly shocked. You’ve never lived in a place where the lock can so easily be picked. 

“Not really,” he says, backing away and grinning like an adorable idiot. “I’m used to it.”

“Used to … ?” you turn to him and watch him approach the little house next to yours.

“Yeah,” he says. “They’re all like that here. I’ve locked myself out of my own house a few times.” At this he takes out an actual key and sticks it into the keyhole of his own door. Oh, no. This can’t be happening. This weird, impossible guy … is your neighbor?