I had this song on repeat as I wrote this, here is the link to the MV if you want to hear it (it's really good!)

Lee Donghae, the onion boy

If only your gaze could land on me for a moment

I stared at you again. To be honest, the more I looked on, the more disgusted I felt about myself. There you go again, with your bright gummy smile that radiate and shine like the sun, attracting more girls to the flock around you. But of course, you don’t notice. You don’t notice the secret looks I give you, nor do you see the jealousy from all of the other boys, including me.

I'm not greedy, to say the very least, I don’t think so. Your touch and kisses are desired, I admit, but I'm content with just your attention; one quick glance in my direction is enough to make me feel like I am on drugs, so exhilarating and breathless. No, I'm not exaggerating. Since the first day I met you, on top of the school roof where I barely escaped the bullies whom were chasing me for a petty reason, my world seemed to stop, then tilt the other way on its axis. The hot humid summer air was choking me, or maybe it was due to the running, yet as soon as you turned around from the terrace, with your sharp almond eyes cutting through me, I knew I was doomed.

You walked over to me, long legs taking big strides making the far distance between us seem like nothing at all, and stopped just in front of my vision. After observing me for what felt like ages, you scooched down to my height — you are roughly a head taller than me — and smiled. It was the first sincere smile I received since attending this high school; so much different from the rough purposeful shoulder bumps in the corridor if I'm lucky. It brought tingles to my body, and cool summer breeze caressed my skin, it was refreshing.

“Are you okay?” Your deep and husky voice asked me, the memory itself still giving me shivers, my insides trembling from the huge amount of gentleness displayed. I was stupid to not realise the little crush I might have on you, but who could really blame me when all you have to do is breathe and the entire female population will flaunt to your side, offering you their heart. My mind soared when you unexpectedly patted my head and gave me another encouraging smile — as if you knew what I was running away from, and what I was going through at the time. Then, ruffling my soft brown strands of hair, you made a ‘hwaiting’ motion with your fist, before disappearing into the exit and down the spiraling staircase, away from me.

And I think it was right there and then, that I fell for you.

If only you could hear the sound of my broken heart

I didn’t ever think during the two years that flied past us that one day I would get my heart broken. From what started off as a small crush, my feelings for you turned into something bigger, uncontrollable and inevitable. Look at me now, I don’t know what to describe it specifically, but I knew that you meant a lot more to me than I would like.

And it’s not like I haven’t tried stopping this…this…infatuation. I had to stop it, for many reasons. First, we’re students. I'm not foolish enough to believe that young love lasts forever. Fairytales simply don’t exist in our world, and even if some claim you to be a prince or royalty of a kind I can positively say that you're not for me. But the main reason isn’t that, it actually lies on the fact that this is the real world. I'm not one of those talented and gifted people with photographic memories, I have to study really hard to achieve a decent grade.  And being obsessed with someone who is never going to return a quarter of what I feel for him is a massive distraction: another reason to procrastinate.

Furthermore, you’re never going to notice me anyway. We’re living in the same world, under the same sky, but why is it so hard to reach to you?

It could be the crowd of your fan girls surrounding you every single second, as if they're afraid of some assassination attempt. Although, if I were to be in their position, I think I would over protect you like them as well. You’re…such a jewel. Like a special flower that only blossoms every five hundred years. Do I praise you too much? I don’t think so, because I'm stating the truth. Going back to the question before, I believe it’s not just your fans that obstruct my road to know you. It’s me. It’s you. It’s us.

It’s our differences.

You are an angel sent down to earth; every inch of your skin reflects perfection and your heart is literally made out of gold. I watch from the sidelines how you reject the girls with a sad smile, which I can never fathom the reason behind it. If you look so sad each time you reject them then why don’t you just agree? You're always grateful for their attention, even though I can tell it is annoying sometimes to have no privacy at all, and with each rejection I was beginning to spot a pattern in the process.

First, you give them a pitying look, then, you look to the floor or outside in dismay before finally sighing. You have the same troubled expression, and I know it must be hard to say no and sorry over and over again. Lastly, you speak something along the lines of: ‘I’m really sorry and I hope you can find someone who loves you back.’ Even when they annoy you, you still send them an earnest wish to happiness, unlike me, who would’ve cursed them to hell.

Like I mentioned before, you are an angel, a masterpiece. And I, the devil. You are too good for me, that I'm afraid to taint you just by touching. After all, how can someone so popular and nice and funny and cute and handsome like you be with me? I’m not clever, I'm not handsome, I don’t have the ‘v-lines’ and nor do I have a perfect body. In fact, I'm totally the opposite of good-looking. Shall I describe to you what I see when I stand in front of a mirror?

I see a chubby boy with dull eyes, dark brown matted hair that looks like it hasn’t been washed for days when in reality I shower at least once a day. I see the stereotypical Asian slanted eyes, a disgrace to my ethnicity. And then there’s my bulbous nose, round and large like garlic. Sometimes I just want to slice it off, but then I'm a coward who’s afraid of pain. I see a short boy, with a face as a spot growing farm; red dots appearing on my face like Christmas lights. I see a joke, I see imperfection. I bet when God made me he used the cheapest material when it was my turn.

And when I open my mouth, I see mismatched yellow teeth: all crooked and off-putting. When the other boys in my year are having special trainings to attain six packs, I'm at home, lying in bed at eleven in the evening feeding on the snacks mum brought for the family. That’s right, I have a big appetite. Often, my brother would grin and call me a pest in the family, and because of me mum always have to go grocery shopping since I ate everything in the fridge.

Now, I'm starting to believe it.

Another thing you don’t know about me, (although you didn’t actually know anything about me before), is that I act like a girl. I cry when I watch Mean Girls, and even now I can feel the hot prickle of the waterworks coming on. That, was only a small portion of why people would never like me. Heck, even I don’t like me.

Me, who’s so boring and lonely that I can only have heart to heart conversations with my stuffed nemo, and you, who is admired by everyone, teacher and seniors and can have any hot person you like.

Now do you see why we can never be?

Nevertheless, despite feeding myself the harsh reality and forcing myself to get over you, because an unlucky person like me will only bring you down in every possible aspect, I still can't stop noticing the heart-wrenching smile of yours. I think I can finally describe the feeling now, it feels like a cold metallic claw ripping my heart out of my body, slicing it in mid air and piercing it in as many ways as possible before trampling it on the ground. Good imagination, right?

It’s the only way I can make myself happy, sort of like self-satisfaction. I imagine a lot of things. They revolve around you, me, and the definite unlikelihood of us actually together. I’m one of those dares that you would rather forfeit than actually ask me out or make out with me. But then again, if they're your true friends, then they would never torture you like that.

Anyway, to put things simply, I imagine us. In a place where there is only the two of us, no disturbance or pressure. Korea is still a country less open-minded than the European countries, and being gay is hard enough, if not being gay with a really ugly partner. I'm not saying you're gay; I'm just creating things in my head. And it feels good for a while, until you can no longer deceive yourself.

That’s the case with me.

The more I thought about the subject, the more depressed I became (as if I wasn’t depressed to begin with).  So, using this golden opportunity, I decided to end this thing between us once and for all. You won't know it, of course, because I never got your permission to do these types of things. And it’s not like you talk to me in the first place. As I hear your fan girls screaming and all over the place, I quickly took my leave, avoiding you in all forms. Either locking myself in the bathroom cubicles and having my lunch there, or go to the forbidden science labs and sneaking in without the janitor seeing and hiding there until break is over.

At this precise moment in time, I'd rather have an after school detention for a whole week than to see you and have all of my resolutions crumble to dust of mockery.

Silently protecting you, silently waiting for a miracle

Silently making myself disappear into the background 

Yet, obviously it is not as easy as I thought. With your popularity increasing by each minute, it is very hard to not hear anything about you. When I hear your name being mentioned, my ears naturally perk up, absorbing in the new gossip.

Is it true? That you are going out with the female dance captain, Hyuna? Do you realise how brainless and moronic that decision is? Literally all the boys in our school adore her, and their only wish is for you to not steal her away. They even gave up an entire population of girls in our school in order to satisfy you, to keep you away from her. And what do you do? You just had to step into the puddle, gaining more haters than usual.

But fear not, because I will protect you silently like I have always done. If I see some boys calling you out, I always run to a teacher and report it to them. You know, you should feel thankful because Lee Donghae does not run for anyone. With the exception of you. But you probably realise that by now. Don’t you wonder how the teachers are always there whenever trouble flows your way? I think the teachers are probably sick of me now. I don’t even need to speak, because they already know that I don’t talk to them (or anyone, really) unless it’s related to you.

And then, once I watch the boys scream profanities at you, saying there will be a next time if the teachers didn’t intervene, like the Scooby Doo series, I slink into the building, unnoticed. My part is done, you're safe, and that’s all that matters. You don’t need to know the informer, but if you must put a name to it, then you can choose out of the many girls from your fan club.

I'm content behaving like this, watching you in the shadows and secretly protecting you. It gives me a sense of importance, like a knight in shining armour. So, thank you, for making me feel the least bit important for your wellbeing. Yet, a little part inside me breaks that you didn’t even bother asking the teachers who told them about those boys, I just see you dusting your clothes before walking away nonchalantly.

I know I'm ignorant to hope for a chance, a miracle that you suddenly see me. But then again, I'm brainless to fall for you, letting you catch me without much effort as your prey.

So in short, I'm the idiotic one.

Everyone is eating, chatting, laughing, tonight they’re so happy

In the furthest corner there I am, smiling with everyone

I have made many vacuous mistakes in my life, and this is another example added to the list. I have little to no idea as of why I'm sitting here, cross-legged on the thin cheap restaurant cushion, watching people from our class get drunk and wasted. And of course, if I must torture myself, see the touchy girls you with the excuse of drunkenness. If they are truly drunk, then they would be sleeping with drools on their faces, leaving mascara imprints on the floor. But I'm angrier with you! Why couldn’t you reject them like how you usually do when they behave like this? But no, instead, you are letting that wrap her tentacle like arms around you, her head lolling at a weird angle trying to dive into your crotch.

I think I may be a masochist, hurting myself by watching your every move.

You picked up the green bottle near your hand, and drank straight from the top. I gasp seeing the sinful sight of the pale yellow liquid dribble from the corner of your lips down you chin, sliding over that prominent jawline of yours and rolling down your neck. Strangely, it reminded me of the time when we were getting ready for a gym lesson when you took off your top hastily, for it was the middle of summer and I think we can all agree with you how the school uniform clings to our skin like a second layer of cells. The feeling is quite similar to when you wet your pants but do not change immediately. Yes, I remember when I wet my trousers back in nursery.

Your sweat beads ran down your head, emerging from the roots and sliding downwards. I don’t know how a small bead can last long enough to go past your trousers’ waist, but I do know that your skin glistened like Edward Cullen, the sparkly vampire but only you are more attractive than him, obviously. You do not know how tempting you looked with stuff dripping down your body.

But now, I can feel some opinions akin to disgust, ready on my tongue to lash out as the girl who was rubbing her face on your arm, not knowing that she's smudging half of her make up onto your black sweater. (See, if you were with me then you wouldn’t have this problem, as I don’t wear make up). A part of me is vaguely surprised seeing your attire: normal black sweater with a white collared shirt underneath, and black jeans hugging your amazing figure. Another three months has passed, now already reaching October, and the air outside turning slightly sharper than the warm summer air that was with us not so long ago.

Not wanting to make a scene here, not just in front of these nameless classmates of mine, but also in the presence of strangers, I looked away. I didn’t want to tear my sight from you to a bald man in his forties, chomping his samgyeopsal like nobody’s business, chewing with his mouth open. Seriously, how can two people vary so much other than their age? I decided to look closer to my table, seeing some of my classmates passed out on the table, some drinking and others chatting animatedly among themselves.

There was nothing to do, and again I wondered why you would want to invite me to come to your birthday party. I was actually feeling really happy that you knew my name, and I felt even more excited when you asked me politely in class. But then a girl came and ruined everything. She whined whilst batting her fake eyelashes, asking you why you were inviting a loser to your party right in front of the said ’loser’, and you replied that it wouldn’t be fair to invite the whole class except one.

Oh, so you only did it out of pity? How did you know that I was lacking pitifulnes