The third and last day always comes to an uneventful end. It ends with the customary pyrotechnics showcase at the end of the day, the ones that they always have every year, at every festival.

          Bogum wants it to be different, to change it up a bit, just to make his last year in high school more memorable than all his other years.

          Unfortunately, neither he nor the other Council members could think of a way to make it more exciting without jeopardizing the safety of the students.

          So he begrudgingly settles to selling tickets to students, to the usual partitioned classroom (that once was Lee-sunsaengnim’s science classroom) that overlooks and always has the best view of the yearly fireworks show.

          “Thank you!” Bogum smiles at the student who buys two tickets in front of him.  He watches him go off a little ways, before ducking under the shade of a tree to join a girl standing beneath it.

          On-campus relationships are not exactly approved of by the school administration, rather, couples (or students who seem like couples) are discreetly guarded upon by the teachers.

          Supposedly guarded discreetly. Bogum rolls his eyes, remembering all the times he would catch Park-sunsaengnim making his rounds around more often than necessary, effectively scaring people off for ‘no funny business.’

          Of course, that led students to find more reclusive spots, regardless of their relationship status.

          Lord knows how many times Bogum would stumble upon people in the strangest and darkest of spots. Yet despite the shock and initial annoyance of it all, he never had the heart to tell them off, or report them.

          After all, love is love, no matter how hormonal two can get.

          “Ah, we’re almost out of tickets,” Seungwan comments, looking down and shaking the box where they placed it.

          Bogum draws his jacket closer, and goes to stand beside Seungwan. He nods in agreement.

          “Would you like to go in?” he straightens up and scans their surroundings. “No one else seems to be coming here.”

          “No, no!” Seungwan shakes her head and brings out her phone. Bogum watches her screen light up. “We only have a few minutes left before closing time.”

          “I can—no, we can, endure!” She says brightly up at him.

          He smiles at her enthusiasm.

          “Sure.”

          As Seungwan goes off to walk in circles and rub her hands, Bogum curiously peeks inside the box. He sees about five tickets with the school logo stamped on its side, a few coins, and pen.

          He reaches down to sift through the items.

          He pauses, fingertips brushing over the pieces of paper.

          A flash of inspiration passes through, and shakily, he picks one up.

          “Seungwan.”

          He says it softly, and when no reply came, he says it again. Louder and clearer.

          “What is it, sunbae?”

          “I—“ He feels so nervous, yet strangely giddy. He holds the ticket with one hand, and he hurriedly tries to pick up another with his other. “I—I’d like to buy one, no, two!”

          “What?” Bogum feels her stand beside him. “Are you serious?”

          Finally, he picks it up.

          Excitedly, he turns to Seungwan, pretty sure his eyes are glimmering with hope and cheesiness. He grins widely.

          He might as well say it now. It may be his one chance, his only chance, to ask. To say it out loud after all these years.

          His wish.

          “I want to ask Joohyun out.”

--

          To his surprise, Seungwan grabs, no yanks, the tickets out of his hands.

          Before he could process what is happening, she places it safely back in the box. She heaves it into her arms and marches to the school building.

          Bogum gapes, and it is not until the tiny secretary reaches the front steps did he remember to chase after her.

          “Y-yah!” He jogs to catch up.

          “Son Seungwan!” He reaches her in a few long strides, and places a hand on her shoulder, effectively stopping her.

          “What are you doing?” His brows furrow, and he feels a mixture of emotion coiling up within him. Annoyance, confusion, and mild anger. Anger for this unfair reaction to his outburst. It isn’t fair. Just when he readily admits to his feelings.

          “Bogum-ssi,” Seungwan exhales through her nose. She clutches the box tightly.

          “What?” he presses on.

          Her eyes move to the side, as if she is thinking of what to say.

          “You shouldn’t waste your money.” She tries to go forward, but Bogum moves to block her path.

          “What do you mean?” He is lost now. “I don’t understand.”

          Seungwan sighs, as if she does not want to have this conversation. She shakes her head slightly.

          “Bogum-ssi, just, trust me.” She tries to go past him again, but this time, Bogum holds her arms. The arms that encircle the box.

          Trapped.

          “I trust you, Seungwan.” He grits his teeth. “I trust you to make me understand.”

          And there it goes again. That look of sadness.

          The look of pity.

          He feels all air go out of him, like steam from a kettle when Seungwan reluctantly says: “You shouldn’t like Joohyun-unnie.”

          Somehow, when she says it, it hurts, despite the lack of emotion and force. The implication that he isn’t good enough for her makes his chest squeeze.

          His arms fall to the side, and Seungwan walks away.

          Bogum gulps. He hears her short determined footsteps sound.

          Slowly, he turns around. All those year of pining after Joohyun from afar can’t just turn to dust after a few words.

          He opens his mouth, and he wants to shout it out loud.

          But he doesn’t.

          “I don’t like Joohyun.” He says it firmly, loud enough for Seungwan to hear.

          “I don’t like her,” he raises his voice, allowing emotion to lace in his sentence. Bogum balls his fists, and he watches his breath mist in the air.

          He pauses for effect. And for her to stop walking.

          She doesn’t.

          “I love her!”

          Seungwan pauses halfway across the stairs, still turned away from him.

          A gust of wind blows, cutting through the cloth of his jacket.

          What makes him shiver, though, is Seungwan’s whisper, carried away by the wind.

          “That’s even worse.”

--

          Bogum stares sullenly out the window.

          He ignores the noises of awe from the people all around him, mostly freshmen. He catches a few people sneaking in kisses from his peripheral, so he trains his eyes to staring at the bursts of light.

          It is vaguely interesting.

          So preoccupied was he, that he doesn’t notice it at first. Not until someone shouts.

          “Oh my God!”

          “What the hell!”

          Alarmed, he focuses his attention back to the classroom. He sees people pointing to something out the window, to the rooftop where the fireworks were setup.

The first thing he thinks of is a fire, and so, for the first time, he forgets about Seungwan’s words.

He makes his way to Namjoon, the only other Council member stationed in the room, and he starts giving out instructions.

With wide open eyes, the guy laughs, and Bogum pauses in giving out fire drill evacuation techniques.

“Man, look!” He points outside, and that is when Bogum realizes no one is afraid, scared, or even alarmed like he was. In fact, he sees some people smiling, and whooping!

“That kid is crazy!”

Bogum pushes to the front.

He presses himself against the windows, and after a minute of fumbling in the dark, he unlatches it. The only source of light are the brief bursts of the fireworks.

He ignores complaints and grumbles around him when the cold, smoke, and noise, drifts in to the room.

And then he sees it.

A him, actually.

An outline of a guy could be seen, standing on the edge of the rooftop, shouting into a megaphone. Bogum squints and he could see other students gathering around, under the safety of the walkways, ogling at the spectacle.

He could hardly see anyone else at the rooftop, and he wonders where the hell whoever is in charge was.

It takes him a moment to realize that the guy is looking for someone.

“Who is he looking for?” he mutters out loud.

As if to answer his question, the man raises the megaphone up to his mouth again. The cold rings in Bogum’s ears.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

It blares out through the cold evening air.

And then, the doors burst open.

A flurry of people burst out, they congregate, and a second later, they are gone, like a passing flock of locusts. Leaving behind a girl.

With a jolt Bogum realizes who it is.

It is Seulgi.

“Ah, KANG SEULGI-SSI!”

Bogum sees her turn to the rooftop, with a frown of bewilderment marring her face. He sees her say something, too far to be heard.

And then everything burst.

One last firework explodes in the night sky.

A final remark of, “GO OUT WITH ME, KANG SEULGI!”

And that is when shouts and screams began.