The slide door is opened from outside. An almost unfamiliar looking guy walks in with a duffle bag slung over his broad shoulder. “Yo, Master Hi!” Hyun Seung salutes right after he slides close the door. He lopes on the floor, approaching my way and sits across to me.

        He really looks different. His black hair is far better than the blond. The difference is nice though. At least, the girlish look that he possessed in the era of his blond hair is not too obvious like this. I keep staring at him, bewildered at his transformation. Yet, I feel funny for myself because it was a week and a few days ago we last met with his died colour hair and today, he changes  such a gimmick he got there.

        “What?”  He cuts off my trance as he catches me staring. “What are you looking at? Oh my! You realize it!” He unexpectedly exclaims with his hands clasped together. “Look, it faded out too early. The hairdresser said that it might be lasted long until next year. Ah, maybe I got snow stuck here and there,” he rants, pointing to the side, back and the crown of his head. “They carried out the bleaching process by themselves.” He adds, arguing with his own hair.

        “But as long as I’ve played my role on the school play last autumn, that’s it. I miss my black hair already. You know, I can’t wait to see it completely black.” He pinches both strands and pulls them nonchalantly with some kind of expression.

        “School play?” I repeat. Is that the main purpose of him faking his natural hair? I mean, does this happen to Ren too?

        “Yup. This school play is like those musical theatres that I never get opportunity to watch out there. We’ve to act, sing, dance and gag. That’s the source of high points in my year book. I won’t miss it. Do you think I like this fake hair colour?”

        I shrug. Besides, he still can wear wig. “I thought you love rapunzel-like golden hair, that’s why you died as you like.”  

        “Well, sometimes. But who like fake? No, nobody likes fake. Me too. I worship original than anything else.” He pinches his eyebrows together, reasoning seriously. “Ren too. It seems like his blond lasts longer than mine.” He mumbles almost soundlessly, but still between my earshot.

        “What’s his role?”

        “He played as a gentleman who sailed on his ship and soon fought in a war. You know, the European guy with his hair tied and wore a type of hat in his classy attire, that’s him. Aha, I think I’ve got a picture of him!” He raises his index finger as a sign of remembrance. “I’ll show to you later.” I plant a small curve on the corners of my mouth at his long remark.

        He friendly smiles until silence eats the time. We simple sigh as an attempt to break the silence but no move either word required, like there is actually nothing to brag about. Maybe somehow, I should ask about Ren? What is his favourite or dislike? It is like I’m creepy. I never do that to people. But where is him? He has taken long time there? It is almost a half an hour.

        I silently clear my throat. “By the way, did you see him outside?”  In a hesitant way, I carefully ask.

        He promptly looks up from fiddling with the zipper of his bag. “Who? Ren? Yeah, he was talking to your grandpa near the balcony. He came early today.”

        Maybe that is why he took so long.  No, it is exactly why he took so long. Well, it is not like I’m waiting for him. I just can’t stay still but wonder.

        “Hey.” I upwards to face him. “You’re asking much about him. Something happen?” He wiggles his brows while hugging his bag close to his face, slightly covering his mouth that I’m sure he is grimacing from his own burst. His words contain hidden meaning that he thinks I don’t understand, but in fact, I do.

        “No. Of course not. What makes you said that?” He stops grimacing and slowly descends his bag, only to whisper against his palm.

        “Just saying. I thought you’re drawn to him.”

         “No!” I argue.

         He giggles continuously until his shoulders rise up and down as he takes another breath for another giggle, showing his pearly white teeth in his unique grin. “Don’t overreact. You’re vague.” He accuses between his grin with the wavy tone of his voice.

         “No...” I hesitantly deny after putting sour on my face which makes the waver laughs of him gingerly slow to a stop. Why I’m feeling that I’m really lying this time? I have lie before but it was on some funny purpose for joke that I hit on each family members. However, at this moment I’m feeling that this denial risks a big consequence. It tries to tell that I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t lie, but I can’t. Somewhat, I don’t know whether I’m denying the truth. 

        “It’s natural for you, you know. Yeah, I mean he got inner attractiveness and outer beauty.” He states.

        My heart is now palpitating in nervousness. A glance won’t help to identify his true means. Except, I gaze at him who has already lowered his head. He is fiddling again with his bags. This time, he zips it back and forth, like whether; he chooses to open his bag or not.

        “Master Hi...” He calls again with a slower and long voice. He doesn’t look up although I get a hint that he wants to ask something. I raise my brows high, leaving a quite large space between my eyes and them. I watch him moving his hands, patiently trace along the zip line and finally pulling open the bag. He takes out a paper folded into two, looking slightly crumpled. “Read this.” He shoves it right in front of my face. I inch backwards to take a better look.

        Tournament. Earn an amazing prize. Certificate of honour. And money. Second January. It is held next year, early on next year.

        “You want to enter this?” I ask, watching him pulls away the pamphlet to his lap as he holds his head upwards.  

        “Well, people say that I need to seek permission from my master first.” He renders that I can translate he is hoping.

        Well, I don’t know. Does this means because I’m his master, I need to decide thing or anything for him. I’m not his guardian. I’m just a person who teaches him martial arts. I’m simply, like a teacher or counsellor. I tell him about moves, how to defend himself, how to punch, kick, feint and using weapon. No, I don’t teach him on how to use weapon. Maybe someday I will. If time allows. Thus, someone like me who indicates things to do supposed to decide for him? Like I know what is good or bad for him? Do I? Or should I? I don’t know either.

        “Why me?” I won’t count any excuse chained with ‘master’.       

        “It’s you because you should. You know how far I went. You know my achievement and that’s how I’m going to show you that someone like ‘me’ can get better than you expected.” I frown, tilting aside.

         “How so?” He gets more confusing from time to time.

         “Just let me enter this and you’ll know the truth that you don’t know about me. Because I’m sure that you don’t really know about your student.”

         The relax atmosphere is leisurely flowing through the cold which it is switched to another abysmal air. I continue staring at him, or I could say, glaring at him. It is not him to be absolute. It is his offensive words that hurting me right away. They hurt so much that make me think, I’m something undeserved to be.

          “Do you know me well enough?” He asks seriously but I really don’t have any intention to answer as I clench my jaw in full of disapproval, defeated and dejection.  

          “That’s why I call you lonely because you’re cold, like the snow outside. You make no move.” He waves his hand to the window on his left. “It’s like you don’t have heart. But how come you can understand people? I highly doubt you can understand someone like ‘me’, because for me, your heart is empty. It’s blank.”

         This is unintentional which I find my breath wavers and tremblingly, I grasp the fabric of my pants, clenching as if the fabric can dig into my nail as cue of my desperation. I can’t help but feeling a brain-quake is starting to occur in my mind.  

         “Why? You’re angry? I thought someone with blank heart has no feeling, but you do. Thus, why you refuse to show your feeling to other people? You don’t know how to surpass happiness? You don’t know how to smile wider? Grin? Feeling cheerful? Or even upset? You always have that expressionless face every day. I’ve once seen you angry before though. It’s when I pointed about your hair. And now, you’re angry too? Does your face only know how to show your angriness?”

        He keeps pointing out things that I completely lack of care which I’m honestly offended. Then, why still he has heart to insult me this way like he doesn’t know of how I’m feeling? I’m hurt. I feel sick. I’m mentally hurt. I can’t bear anymore. “Stop it.”

        “What?” I can feel the smirk from his respond. 

        “You hear me, so please stop.”  

        “Not until you admit it.” He narrows his eyes, showing as if his words are more accusing and mean.

         “Just...stop...it. I...really....can’t stand...you.” The tone of my voice shakes terribly like I’m really in a cold of sharp words. All of the sentences that he confesses are dashing right towards my heart until it can’t tolerate anymore. I don’t know why he becomes so mean like this. He is such a bipolar. He is like devil.

         “Why must I?”

        I furiously bombard, “Stop it already! Don’t talk like you really know me! Don’t act all knowing. You don’t know me! I know who I am, I know what I am. It is you,” I point at his chest. “...who don’t know me that well! You can’t even understand me! I’ve feeling. I can understand people and I know every people around me...I have my own heart.”

        The tears that threaten to fall finally flow continuously. It finally rain in the mid of fall. Sobbing, I try to continue what my heart wants to correct everything. Yet, I can’t. I’m awfully shaking in my cry that even a word is so hard to say.

Now, I realize that it has been a while I’m being like this. 

        “Then, why don’t you admit it earlier?” He whispers as I continue to cover my wet face as the heart-wrenching sob keeps move on. Weakly, I shake my head. I feel weak. I’m feeling that I am vulnerable than anyone else. I feel like a defeated loser. I’m guilty.

        “Just admit that you still have space in this world to understand people deeper and commit feeling for them.” He chimes softly like the devil in him has gone.

        “I do, I already have.” I softly croak with a slight nod, breaking from the never-ending sobs.

        “That’s all.” I feel his hand taps a couple of times on my shoulder. “Everybody... and Ren would be happy if you continue keeping this way.” He replenishes as he wraps his arms securely around my head, like a mother.

        This sense, it appears not in prosaic way. I can feel that he is really my friend. He brings the comfort and warmness of a friend. “I’m sorry for making you like this.” He is a friend that makes me realize of what I am.

I am really, actually have a friend. How wonderful it sounds.