I approached him immediately. He wasn’t surprised as if he knew it would be me. I pulled up his shoulder so he could stand up straight, but he still hanged his head low, hiding his crying face from everyone, from me. I brought him -- no, more like dragged him to a bench where no one could see him crying.

I hugged him, hoping it could lessen the pain he is feeling. “You can cry freely now,” I said, as if soothing him. He buried his face on my shoulders. I can feel how his tears drenched my school uniform blouse. I can feel how hurt he really is, but why can’t he feel the pain I am suffering? The guy I like is now crying not because of me, but because of another girl who turned him down.

We stayed like that until he stopped crying. We went to his home by my car. During the whole ride, he didn’t say any word, but hurt was visible on his face. Neither I nor my driver talked or made a sound. When we stopped in front of his house, he opened the door of the car so he could get off. I walked him towards their door. When we reached their door, he stopped and turned around. I stared at him in surprise.

“Thank you,” he muttered, and then adding more to my surprise, he kissed my forehead. I just stood there, staring blankly into space. “You can go home now,” he said, smiling, and with that, he turned around and entered his house.

He kissed my forehead. Like a chant, it played in my mind until I got home.