Don't forget to listen to the songs on the playlist (found in the foreword) for the full effect!

Previously...

I forced my eyes open, trying to make out the blurred image in front of me. When my eyesight finally cleared and focused, I was surprised to see what was there.

I must be dreaming.

"B-Baekhyun...?"

April 12 - 5:44 PM

His chestnut eyes widened in surprise, and then I saw them flood with relief.

"Minah? Are you- are you okay?"

Coughing gently, I got up from my spot against the tree trunk and once again brushed fallen flower petals off my jeans. I looked down at Baekhyun, who suddenly got up from where he was crouching. He was still looking me up and down worriedly. What was up with him?

"Yeah, I'm fine," I finally replied calmly, the truth of this meeting not even occuring to me as I wiped the flowers from my clothes. He continued staring at me like I was injured. "What? What's wrong?"

In his eyes, I saw him snap back to his senses when I pointed out his staring, as if snapping out of a trance. "N-Nothing.. I just.. I thought you — never mind," He grumbled before nodding at me, as if like a greeting, and heading back to his friends, without even glancing backwards at me, where I stood in confusion.

Thought I what? My lips found themselves pointing downward as they formed a confused frown. 

Nice, you had a conversation with your crush of five years. Way to play it cool, I told myself sarcastically.

After a moment of lost thought, I picked up my camera dejectedly and began my journey home.

April 12 - 6:30 PM

After dinner alone, I sat quietly on my bed, not even bothering to do my homework. I just sat there lifelessly, staring mindlessly at the blank white walls of my bedroom. My meeting with Baekhyun had finally occurred to me, and it didn't even feel real. The truth of it finally hit me; that was the first time I had spoken with Baekhyun, the first time he even acknowledged my presence since eighth grade.

The fact that he knew my name was astonishing. I remembered how it sounded, falling off of his tongue so smoothly, as if he had said my name a thousand times before. 

Shaking my head, I told myself to stop. I couldn't do this. It was easy to admire Baekhyun from afar, but even with my delusional love for him, I didn't want to get close to him. I was so close to making it out of high school without experiencing any painful heartbreak; I wouldn't allow myself to let myself fall into him once again. 

It was strange, though: Why had Baekhyun reacted so intensely? The Byun Baekhyun the world knew was cool, charming, and collected. Seeing his eyes lit in a moment of worry shocked me. But still, I had reacted so calmly in that moment opening my eyes and meeting Byun Baekhyun's. In my own head, I was a fumbling, wordless kluts when it came to Baekhyun. How I managed to not melt at his closeness was a topic I could not fathom.

When I closed my eyes, the image reappeared in my mind, not a detail lost. I seemed to remember every little detail of that small meeting: the beads of sweat lining his forehead, the two small petals caught in his blonde hair. 

Suddenly, my eyes shot open and my hands scrambled across my bedsheets in search of my camera. Once my hands grasped the metal contraption, I pressed the button to turn it on. Searching furiously through my photos, I stopped when I came upon the one of Baekhyun. Unknowingly, a smile spread sweet like honey across my lips. 

His hair was slightly tousled, probably from running his hands through it, a habit he had when he was concentrating. His two eyebrows furrowed together as he contemplated a game plan. In his hands, he held a disheveled football. Still, his face remained cheerful, as if he was at peace with everything in the world. I wished I could be more like him. 

He seemed to live such an easy-going life. Both his parents were successful entrepreneurs and figure-heads, so everyone wondered what their family was doing in Bucheon when they could be in Seoul. He never seemed to be low on money, always pulling out his wallet while insisting to pay for everything. His uniform was always ironed and pressed, unlike the disheveled students who didn't put in the effort to prepare for school. There w