I am quite fond of pink, well, if collecting bundles of pink equates the word “fond” then maybe I am. But Hyukjae said it was far from that, he said I was obsessed with it. Okay I admit, but not that as obsessed with how I hate you. I hate the way your lips would curl in a smug smile after you said something embarrassing about me. As if those mocking words would make you the most handsome human being on earth, not that I thought and imagined about it, because I know the pimples on your face would never make you handsome.

One time when my pink handkerchief flew over the topmost cabinet and unfortunately, you are the only living creature inside the classroom and another unfortunate moment, it was only the two of us. I remember how you made fun of my height and told me I can only get my handkerchief after I kiss you.

Well I said no.

You mocked me.

I chided back.

You are so snarky; I can’t fight your words.

I lost my handkerchief because it was with you.

I never understand how Lee is so proximate with the surname Cho. The old professor said we should be partners in one of our subjects, Biopsychology because he according to his list, our surnames is alphabetized, hence next to Cho is Lee. Where are the other ing alphabets? I will never forgive this mundane . I saw your ugly face again and that face turned into a sinister smile when you said we can do it in your loft even though I insist that our house I mean my room is big enough to accommodate two people. But again you won in the end and here I am, sitting over your bed, reading this boring book and there you are…

Playing games.

I am doing this report. But you are playing games. What’s that?? Monsters?? Aliens?? Zergs?? Starcloud??

Whatever it is, I hate the way that you can’t hear my explanation of these cells because of the noise of your game. I hate that you don’t listen to me and I hate it that your back is facing me, muscles clenching beneath that shirt whenever you hover your mouse or move your arms. I hate that I am unconsciously staring at it.

You said I should come closer and explain the paragraphs while you play. I fell to your incessant saying that you can multitask, so I put the book over my lap while I sleepily explain to you these topics. I hate that when morning comes your mouth won’t stop describing how my drool keeps flowing out of my mouth when I accidentally slept over your shoulder.

It was mission fair in our school. And I was one of those who voted you to be our batch representative for the singing contest. Of course I know you won’t like it because Cho kyuhyun only knows one competition: Quiz bee. Nerd, too nerd. The moment you locked yourself inside the bathroom and no one can get you out, I was so scared. I hate that you are too insecure. I hate that I have to scream behind that door that your voice is amazing, that it has the most perfect-est melody I’ve ever heard and that your voice is like that of an angel.

I hate that I accidentally told you how much I loved it.

I hate the you slowly opened the door and you came out wearing a very smugly and triumphant smile. UGH.

But what I hate the most is I didn’t have the guts to say how I like you hear singing me to sleep.

Just like the last time I did overnight project with you and no matter how sleepy I am, I know you sang for me as you close the lid of your laptop, got the book off my lap and patted my head as I closed my eyes.

Together with Donghae, I hit the bottom rank for the grades in Calculus. I don’t get it why I rank highest in other subjects but not in this one. Sir Yunho said I should not worry because he saw how I performed with other subjects but I still can’t help but to feel sad. I walked out of the classroom to feel the fresh air near the fountains, the one near the laboratories. I know I am being emotional but I need these grades so I can graduate with flying colors, I still want to be a doctor anyway. I searched my pocket for my Tuesday handkerchief. Well, I am still one of those people living in routines, I set things to be used for this day and blah blah blah… but I suddenly stopped searching once it dawned to me that my view to my shiny shoes was blocked by a hand.

And that hand holds a certain handkerchief.

“hey, I believe that is mine.”

“I believe this was mine week ago.”

I was about to retort but I heard you say a soft, “tsk” under your breath. One hand held the side of my face and tilted it and slowly you wiped the unshed tears. I don’t know why you did that because obviously I am not crying but I think that was to save you from embarrassment. You must think I did not recognize my own hankie so you just offered to wipe something off from my face. I tried to grab my handkerchief from you but you are fast to take it away from me, hearing you grumbling something, I come closer to you with my eyes narrowing how you shoved my handkerchief unceremoniously inside your pocket.

I walked closer to you.

You walked back hesitantly.

I keep acting menacingly as I enjoy your scared face. I have to take what is mine that hankie is mine after all. However as I step another closer you did not see the stone that was sticking out among the grass and you tripped on it and you fell into the bush. You yelped and your face scrunched into the most derp I’ve ever seen. Suddenly, I felt my cheeks burning and my lips forming into I don’t know… smile? Until puffs of laughter came out one by one and my fell next to yours as I hold my stomach.

I can’t contain my laugh anymore. I laughed until you are looking at me madly. I laughed until there are real tears near my eyes. I laughed until you stood up and look at me madly then you run away while muttering curses.

I laughed so hard no matter how much I hate it.

I still did not get my handkerchief though. 

I guess that was my 137th groan for that day. Well today is Valentine’s Day. No matter how eagerly I am to count the girls who have flowers with them, I still lost count of it. I guess they are too many for my hands or for my poor brain who can’t take even small amount of numbers. Hyukjae and Donghae are having a date and here I am, counting the number of girls with flowers or chocolates or whatever. All I need is a letter where the words “I love you” were written and I’ll be settled. There you go, Lee Sungmin received something during this v-day.

But guess what this poor soul got? The there is this certain girl, two sections lower than me, whom you got a crush. Or whatever.

I sound so gay.

And y.

And I hate it.

Then as I was about to get out of the classroom, my eyes accidentally set on the scene I will forever hate the most. I saw how your hand perched safely on the small of her back and how your other hand clenches, maybe in anticipation that you can finally hold her. I saw how you nervously smiled when she accepts the flower you got for her then I heard the not-so-loud whispers of our classmates. I hate it that you smiled. I hate that you seemed to enjoy every bit of it.

I hate that I received no letter that day.

And I hate that you like someone else.

That day I think was the most stressful day of my life. Okay I guess that was a bit exaggerated but that’s the best description I got for this day. Of all the days that I can be a fool, why is it now? Of all the days that you can confess your love, why is it on Valentine’s Day? And of all human beings, why you?

UGH. Cho Kyuhyun spells nothing but trouble for me.

I hate lots of things about you but I think this is the worst case scenario and the most hated thing about you. I hate that I cried because of what I saw. Then the moment I bolted out of the room, my legs shaking just thinking that your eyes sought after me, I know that you already knew. I don’t understand why you need to follow my form until I completely disappeared among the crowd. I did not see it but I can feel the weight of your gaze behind my back and it scares me of how much it lingers longer than I thought.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Why do you look conflicted? Do you feel sorry?

This time real tears fell down my face. I was crying because of you, because I am a coward. I am crying because I hate you so much. I am crying because that’s the best thing I can do.

I am crying because I wish I was her and you are mine.

I am crying because I can’t.

I was gaping when I saw you there. I saw you standing near the fountain, chest rising rapidly because of harsh breathings, hands in one side of the hip and the other is inside your pocket. You seem so tired from running and your eyes are frantic in looking for someone.

This time I am really mad. What? You have another girl to propose to, to confess your dying love? And what the heck, you’ll do that in my favorite place?

I was about to walk away when you called my name, abruptly I stopped. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, getting ready to what words I might spurt out or how can I handle this man. You called my name once again, this time softer making me harder to respond.

“Are you upset?”

At that time I really