When you told me you love me.

I had said it.

When you told me you love me.

I had done it.

When you told me you love me.

I had finally confessed.

When you told me you love me.

So why was Sojin unaffected?

I had spent the next few weeks brooding over Sojin's apathy. Was that how girls normally responded to confession? Indifference? Or was I just too weak to recognize rejection?

But then I had seen Sojin turn down her suitors and she'd been pretty blunt about it. And Eunjin said so himself: Sojin employed nice ways of rejecting people, yet they were nothing like how she had treated me. As far as my mental dictionary was concerned, indifference didn't equate to nice.

Should this give me hope? Why was I even meddling over these things, what's wrong with me? There were far more important matters I should be concerned about - not some silly high school romantic nonsense whatsoever. And for all I knew, Sojin might have never taken it seriously. After all, she was the most prudent being on the planet.

Notwithstanding her property-destructive hobbies, she had everything figured out. From regular classes to training sessions to extra-curricular involvements, she had stayed in control.

We were once again racing for the top rank. Sometimes she would land the highest score, while other times, it was I. Mostly though, we were at par. It had even become a gambling pastime for our classmates to bet on whoever aced a particular test, exam or seatwork, the two opposing sides being me and Sojin.

In training sessions, Sojin and I were also in the spirit of competition, but side by side as one team.

We are one, Yixing would always say as an opening and closing remark for each session.

Perhaps the only noticeable disparity between us were the opposing roles we seemed to portray in a typical campus setting: Sojin was, for lack of better term, the rule-breaker while I was, again for lack of better term, the rule-upholder.

To be perfectly honest, I was growing weary with each of her succeeding offenses. I had wanted so badly to just report her to the SASD, and I had every right to, too. A Prefect, even the Head, could only harbor so much patience.

Just this second quarter, the school had adopted a new means of communication. The Electronic Universal Message, or simply EUM. Since the school was doing major renovations for expansion, it became a regular occurence for classes to be relocated. We had hopped from one building to another in the hopes of eschewing construction nuisance.

The mechanics for the EUM was pretty basic. Students from all year levels were mandated to register both their contact and student numbers to a centralized system. This system, operated from only two sources, sent either instant or scheduled notices to intended recipients through SMS. The first source was from a main computer stationed in the Head Administrator's Office; the second was from the cellphone of the Head Prefect himself. It was essentially like a group message - only in a more bureaucratic, more system-based manner.

In short, more work for me. Add Sojin's mishaps and all the other responsibilities weighing down my shoulders and every day was a living hell.

The SASD would have provided a readily available escape. It would have only taken me a few minutes to gut up and draft reports regarding deviations from expected student conduct and forward them to the SASD.

So why didn't I do that?

Twice or thrice it crossed my mind to just desert them, banish all my heroic roles, and be, just for once, the delinquent.

Why couldn't I be like Sojin? She was always so unbound. She strived to adhere to rules - though she rarely succeeded - but she never seemed chained by them. That feeling of liberation she exuded by simply subjecting herself to regulation; it was odd but somehow, it was working perfectly for her. And she didn't even have to be a miscreant.

The other day, after Sojin had broken her second flask during lab work and, for the very first time, pricking her palm in the process, the SASD had asked the Prefect Team to start carrying first aid kits. It was very, very inconvenient. And stupid. I had almost suggested to just put first aid boxes in each room, but I had suddenly recalled the untimeliness - what with all the renovations. And it was still for a noble cause so..

The day before that, I'd been summoned to the Head Principal's Office to be informed that I was vying for Class Valedictorian. But I'd been too tired to interrogate who the other contenders were. And I didn't need another reminder that Sojin and I were, again, rivals.

I assumed, of course, that she, too, was running for the soaring title. In fact, second quarter top marks were equally shared by the two of us - each acing three subjects.

Today, as I was walking towards school, I mulled over the possibility of resorting myself to being a one-day renegade. I fantasized flunking, bullying, rebelling as a student. I imagined corruption, abuse, negligence as a Prefect.

And I cringed.

I didn't really want any of that, did I? What I craved was simple resignation, a period of tranquility, a momentary retreat to a life without pressure.

Indifference. Sojin. Was that how she managed? Through difference? Then maybe I could try that, too?

You don't just do that, a voice echoed in my thoughts. Why, Sojin, should you have to do that all the time? Penetrate my head and feed it with random information, I meant.

I sighed, kicking a stray pebble on the smooth pavement.

I just couldn't dare to stain my reputation for three things: one, I was the Head Prefect; two, I was an able contender for Class Valedictorian; and three, I was under the impression that if it weren't for me and the rather odd disciplinary methods I imposed particularly upon my class, Sojin would have been kicked out years ago.

Okay, perhaps I could rule out the first two. Being a Prefect hadn't exactly been a treat, let alone being the Head. Outperforming everyone in academics, on the other hand, came in quite naturally - with Sojin being the sole exception. And maintaining one's rank had always warranted integrity so a good reputation generally followed a top student. The third, however..

An ear-splitting shriek ceased me from my pondering and I glided towards where I imagined, or rather where it had nearly always come from: the room by the end of the hallway.

At the back corner, th