It is currently 3:03.

Only 3 minutes have passed since detention started.

I stare at the clock. 

Is it broken?

Every second lags on and on, and as I stare at it now, only twenty seconds have passed.

Slowly, I peer over my shoulder at him.

Wow.

He's still sleeping. 

Like always.

I wonder what it was this time?

Did his parents take him out somewhere? Did he hang out with friends a little longer? Did he have to run errands? Or did—

What am I thinking?

Why should I worry about him?

But I can't resist sneaking a peek at him again.

And again.

His dark brown hair is ruffled and messed up; strewn about all over the place. His books are leaning over the side of his desk; threatening to fall off and make a loud clattering sound.

Hm...

I peer over at the teacher now, who has his legs crossed on the desk, and his face deep inside a book he's reading.

Thank goodness he hasn't been checking on what we're doing.

Of course, the worksheet he handed us was so easy, and I notice the other boy in the corner has it already completed, answers and pencil marks scrawled all over.

"Teacher Park!" a young female teacher appears at the door.

"Can you please assist me with something?"

Our teacher shrugs, s his book on the desk, and trudges over to her. I can tell he's reluctant, but...

And only seconds later, the boy in the corner gathers his things, which is only his backpack, and trudges away without looking back even once.

Yes.

This is almost a miracle.

I'm so lucky, aren't I?

I slowly stand up and walk towards the window; a row away from his seat.

Junhyung's, that is.

The cherry blossom petals are everywhere, and the school's basketball court looks like a pink wonderland, untouched, with petals blanketing every inch of the ground.

I spin around and head toward his desk; trying to act casual.

When I arrive at the front of it, I crouch down till my eyes are level with his, although I mostly see his hair.

Cautiously, I push his books onto the desk so they won't fall off and wake him up.

I examine his face again.

He's so charismatic, yet still an enigma to me, even after all the years I've known him and watched him.

Still an enigma.

Unable to resist, my fingers reach out to smooth his hair back so it isn't blocking his eyes.

Delicately, cautiously, so as not to disturb him.

My enigma.

I wish he was.

"What are you doing?"