It was the day I met him -- the transfer student, Mark Tuan. That's when I knew I loved him.

...

It’s an ordinary day of class.

“Hey, Nyoung!”

That’s Jackson, my best friend and class mate.

I turn to look at him – him and his stupid snap back. If you care to know, he’s actually one of the top three students in the class.

“I told you to stop calling me that. I hate that name.”

Jackson just giggles at my annoyance.

“Okay, calm down. I wanted to share something – I think you’ll like this.” He intones with suspense.

“I doubt it.” I reply, 

“Mrs. Lee told me there’s going to be a transfer student in our class. And I heard he’s cute – a real flowerboy.”

He’s bursting with laughter and excitement, even while I’m indifferent to the news.

Then again, I’ve always suspected that Jackson Wang might be gay. Ever since he tried to kiss me. Ironically, when I asked him about it, he just smiled and shrugged without ever explaining it.

“Oh God. And you were running just for this?” I muttered.

“Hey, this is good news. It means I won’t try to kiss you again – at least not without your permission.”

I, shamelessly, smack the back of Jackson’s head. This boy is always trying to hit on me.

“Geez,” he replies in agony, “it’s just a joke. By the way, are you free now? We haven’t hung out in a while. Want to check out that new restaurant down the street?”

'Yes'. I mouth to him, and in an instant we’re walking hand in hand.

“I’ll drive. We’re not dying by your hand.” He declares, as we approach his car.

“I have my license too, pabbo.” I reply.

…

The restaurant is… small. But it’s beside the point. I just want to enjoy good food with good friends. As fun as being a high school student is, it can get pretty boring and tedious without having an adventure once in a while.

“So what’s good to eat, here?” I ask. Everything seems delicious – everything with chicken.

Jackson merely shrugs, unsure of what to order himself.

I finally decide on bowl of soup, and a side of pasta. Jackson chooses a plate of kimchi fried rice.

“You know Jinyoung, I really do miss hanging out, just the two of us.”

His tone throws me off a little – he sounds more serious, unlike his perpetually casual nature.

“What do you mean? We’re always together, wherever and whenever. I’m even sitting beside you.” I mention, staring down the small distance between us a wide-eyed frown. “Why do you think like that?”

“It’s different.” He mumbles. “Ah, the food’s here!” And with that he’s sprung back to his usual self.

…

I was always curious as to how the smartest class in school can be full of these… clowns.

There's Wooyoung, the boy who treats his pencil chase as if his own child. Then there's  Chansung, the giant boy and the class idiot. Let’s not forget the corner of the class: Junho and Minjun who are singing to their iPod music like the next big stars. I interrupted them once