The two teens walked side by side slowly, under the dim moonlight. Neither spoke; one didn’t know what to say, the other didn’t want to say anything.

Finally, Baekhyun broke the silence. “Sorry for what happened back at my house.”

Amber turned to him, her eyes uncomprehending. What was he apologizing for? He didn’t do anything wrong.

“The boys were real loud today weren’t they?” Baekhyun chuckled. “I know you don’t like talking to people much, but that bunch’s the best. I just had to let you meet them, maybe you could even be friends! Just be warned though, they’ve toned down on the craziness already. I’m not sure how long they’ll be able to keep it up.”

“Oh, I’m used to it. Boys will be boys,” grinned Amber, who froze like a deer caught in headlights once those words shot out of . Did I just say that?

The sudden spurt of fresh tone did not go past unnoticed. “You know other guys?”

Amber refused to look up and quickened her pace. Stupid, stupid. Now you’ve gotten him all curious AGAIN.

“Hey! Why are you walking so fast?” yelled Baekhyun who started chasing after the girl. When he finally caught up, he commented, “wow, /pant/  you run real /pant/ fast. Anyway, did you know other guys from your previous school?”

“No.”

Again with the short answers. Baekhyun was this close to screaming. He was back at square one after doing so much. What’s with this girl anyway? Why is she friendly one instant and cold the next?

***********************

Lay sat on the couch, eyes glazed despite the fact that his favorite show’s being screened on the television. It was already 10pm. Amber was late.

Well, they’ve never discussed a curfew; why would they, when their relationship was strictly one of a tenant and a landlord? But Lay has been observing the girl and her routines, hoping to learn something about her past, and maybe unravel Kris’ in the process. He learnt that Amber always came home at 9.30pm, even though lessons ended by 4 on most days. He didn’t know where she went after that, how she spends the 5 hours before coming home, but it didn’t feel right to ask.

But she was half an hour late. HALF an hour. What if something’s happened to her? Kris is going to kill him. Lay could already feel the steely gaze burn holes through him. He could already see those long fingers wrapped around his neck. No, Amber has to come back soon. Kris was, generally, a nice guy. Don’t hurt him and you won’t get hurt. If anything were to happen to Amber, someone he obviously cares a lot for, Lay was going to be in deep .

Worried, he got off the couch (which is saying something considering how lazy he usually is) and walked to the girl’s room. He shouldn’t go in there, he knows, but perhaps there’ll be a clue as to where she is. An invitation to some party, a pamphlet for some concert, a calendar with dates marked out, a suicide note… Okay, he prays real hard it isn’t a suicide note. He stands at the door, took a deep breath and turned the door knob. As he pushed the door open, he was amazed at how little the room had changed. He had expected to see boy band posters and colorful beaded curtains decorating the room, but all that greeted him were drab, off-colored walls, just the way they were before Amber came. He took a hesitant step in, feeling as if he is rudely intruding on someone else’s privacy – okay, he is but still – and squinted in wonder at the study desk. Under the glass panels of the desk where students usually displayed their schedules were sketches of cars. In fact, on closer inspection, it was the same car – make and model – from different angles.  The ends of his lips curled upwards slightly. So this girl, the one who has somehow melted the icy heart of King Kris, was unlike all the other girls. Cars instead of idols, really?  Maybe that’s why she got Kris’ attention.

As he studied the sketches, he came across an old, faded photograph. One with a beautiful lady in it, looking like one of those models of yesteryears and two little boys, no more than seven years old. The lady’s features were oddly familiar; Amber seemed to share the same almond eyes. Lay continued scrutinizing the photo, trying to guess how the people in it were related to Amber. There was no doubt that the lady was her mom – they looked too alike – but who were the boys? Where was Amber in the photo? And why does Amber not have a picture of her father?

Before Lay could start searching for the answers to all the questions swimming in his head, a soft murmur could be heard, startling him.

"Please don't touch that."

The man in his early twenties hastily withdrew his hand from the glass panel, turning to face the voice. He nibbled his lips, trying to come up with a reason to excuse his rude behavior, like a child caught stealing front eh cookie jar. "I... I was just..."

"Nahh, it's okay, it was my fault for not locking the door in the first place, don't worry about it!" Amber came next to Lay, placing a protective hand over the picture.

Amber seemed to be in a good mood, mused Lay. It was the first time she had spoken to him when she didn't actually have to. Furthermore, her voice had been casual, friendly even. The curious boy decided to try his luck.

"Who are those two boys?"

Amber looked up at Lay quizzically. What boys? When the man in question made no move to clarify (he was half in fear of being barked at, who knew how the seemingly bipolar girl would react), she turned in the direction he was looking in. Ah, the photograph.

The corners of Amber's lips turned upwards slightly, revealing for the second time that night the beautiful smile that rarely made its appearance. "The boy, you mean."

Lay stared at her uncomprehendingly. Amber chuckled silently at the boy's confusion. "That's my brother, Henry. And this beautiful lady, that's mom. And this," she hovered her finger over the last person in the picture, "is me."

Lay gaped at the girl. How could I have missed that? The "boy" had beautiful raised cheekbones that mirrored Amber's, the same eyes, and a slight feminine aura so soft, he didn't notice it at first glance. "So you've always tried to look like a guy huh?" he asked.

Amber shook her head. "No, it's just that I used to wear hand me downs all the time, since we weren't exactly wealthy. And the hair... Let's just say we should never let children play hairdresser's with real scissors." A smile played on Amber's lips as she reminiscenced.

That smile again.

It vanished as soon as it had appeared. Amber looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, and she shuffled her way to the door, gesturing to it. Lay recognized it as a sign that his welcome in the girl's safe haven has expired, and mutely made his way out. He didn't understand why the girl switched moods so suddenly, but it didn't matter. He was used to it. After all, he had known Kris for years, and the latter had always been like that. It made sense that a friend of his would act the same way; after all, birds of a feather flock together, no?

Just before Lay closed the door behind him, Amber called out to him softly, her tone pleading, not unlike the one she used when she first entered the room. "Tell me if this car comes by, please."

Author's Note: Hi guys! I'm back, AND I AM INSPIRED. I was writing this chapter and all of a sudden, I saw this potential link to a oneshot I wrote quite some time ago titled The Stranger. You could read that while waiting for the next chapter, I'm planning to make The Art of Saying Goodbye the full length version of The Stranger!

Also, did anyone in Singapore catch TLP? I DID AND IT WAS AMAZEBALLS((:

I'm so sorry I haven't been updating, I just couldn't find the time to, what with all the schoolwork I've had to catch up on. I won't be updating regularly either, 'cos my tests are coming up and I can't afford to screw them up since I've already missed quite a few graded assignments.