Strange Rocks

Were his eyes blue? Had his eyes been blue? Was he wearing blue lenses?

What was it? Why do I feel like his eyes had been blue when, of course… naturally it must be brown?

“Hey…” I tapped his shoulders as he sat on a rock below me, his back facing me. “What color are your eyes?”

He, however, shrugs his shoulders like he did not really bother what color his eyes were dousing my curious spirit. “Was it because you were wearing a blue shirt or is it because of the poems from Bleeding Blue? I mean that could be possible. I feel like I notice blue everywhere these days…”

I sigh dramatically as I stretched out my tired body and took in the breeze with a smile.

“It has been so long since I came here…”

He also does the same leaning on the rock more comfortably, back still facing me while agreeing with a nod.

“Did you miss me?” I asked cheekily meaning to poke fun at him while giving a small giggle at my own playfulness.

However, he only stilled and after some long moments, he turns around just slightly… only enough to let me see his profile.

He sighs then, as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulder before giving out a ghost of a smile. What came out of his mouth was only a whisper yet, of course, it reached my ears.

“You can’t imagine how much.”

* * *

It was official that the book Bleeding Blue was doing some things to me that weren’t exactly normal because I was beginning to dream about scenarios seen in the poems! And the worst yet the best part was that it all felt too real to be dreams.

I was certain that the dream last night was straight out of one of BBH’s poems ‘Strange Rocks’ where the poem is actually from the male’s point of view where she sits behind him!

Should I stop reading the poems?

But that was not really a practical thing to do, right? It wasn’t all bad… the dream last night was actually one of the best dreams I’ve ever had and the boy seated in front of me strangely resembled that guy who hit me with his bike.

“She’s officially lost it, hasn’t she?” A familiar voice breaks into my train of thoughts and I blinked to register where I was at the moment.

I was seated at the back of Minseok’s car with Jongdae on the shotgun headed towards our university.

“Eun?” The Cheshire cat turns around to look at me making me give my attention to him.

“Hmm?”

“You’re finally back from your trip to Mars?” He asks flashing a brilliant smile making me almost be blinded by his beauty.

Here’s the thing about our best friend Kim Jongdae… the boy was impossible to resist. He was a literal angel with the face and voice to booth.

“It was actually to an island,” I tell him with a smile of my own. He laughs at that and like always, his laughter has a tinkle to it.

“You and your problem of zoning out,” He says shaking his head. “Someday you’re gonna land in trouble… or it already did.”

He pouts looking at my band-aided knees. “I heard about it from Minseok last night.”

“Well… It was a little accident.” I sigh leaning back into my seat even more suddenly feeling a lot worn down.

“And you alright enough to go to class today?”

At that Minseok who had been quiet scoffs loudly. “Does she look even remotely not alright? It was just a scratch. Chill!”

And yet the whole ride to the Uni, Minseok poked so much fun of me being a cry baby and for being a klutz and for being stupid in general.

I did not reply feeling angry but unable to retort. I did cry and I had being careless and I was being stupid… in general.

So as I fumed quietly, I decided to blame it on the bicycle boy who lost control.

In such a wide road, why would he even hit me when I had been standing in such a corner of the road? He clearly needed an eye check-up or double up his power. It did not help that my knees were skinned pretty bad and normally I was someone who wears lots of skirts and dresses so my banded knees did not really go well with the aesthetic.

But as I wished those two and headed to class, I still couldn’t help but feel a certain sort of pity towards the boy yesterday.

Pity? Out of all the feelings in the world, pity decided to come upon the male in my dictionary. Why? Was it his stance? Was it his face? He did have that kicked puppy face so I was justified in a way.

“I want to discuss BBH’s insta-update last night,” Our poetry club’s president piques up immediately the moment we settle in.

Today had gone exceptionally peaceful and I couldn’t be happier. The classes were done and so we had gathered for our meeting, twice every week.

Our poetry club wasn’t small but it wasn’t as big either and most of the people were rather introverted save for a person or two who keeps the gang going. However, upon discussions on poetry, the most introverted person would gladly spill out 20 words per second to express how they felt and what it is about.

And most of all, I smiled as I watched everyone murmur excitedly, we were like a small BBH’s Fanclub.

When BBH first published ‘Bleeding Blue’ taking him to be one of the best sellers in the street of Korea, our poetry club immediately caught on with that fever.

It had been 5 months since he published his book and almost four months of being his active followers.

“If I may begin,” Our vice-president, Park Chanyeol with huge glasses and curly bouncy hairs began by standing up while the rest nods to allow him. “Last’s night's post was unlike BBH usual poetry but also quite his style.”

Most of the people there nod while I simply watched.

“Usually, he comes out with a scenario and builds around it however, last night’s was quite vague as though he himself was not sure about a certain thing but he cannot help keeping it inside.”

The president nods and sighs dramatically while Chanyeol sits down with a self-satisfied nod.

“BBH, as we all know doesn’t usually write poems on Instagram and sometimes upload in his blog post but it seems yesterday he’s had a change of mind making us all ecstatic.”

I smile a little at that nodding along with others. This morning I’ve had the most amazing surprise as I woke up to a notification from Instagram about BBH’s post.

In many ways, the short poem made my heart flutter and kept me in a good mood the whole day.

“Of course, naturally the discussion on who BBH is went hot in many forums but like always there is no concrete prove on who this person is.”

The discussion continued making me happy and soft.

Since the publication of Bleeding Blue, almost hundreds of people with BBH as their acronyms had come forward claiming to be him or her making us all skeptical in a way, to trust anyone anymore.

Our discussion went on from BBH to the next poetry reading session where I was also put as one of the performers. Every single person gets a chance to perform and this whole time, every single one of them had done exceptionally well… I must also give my best.

We discussed what poems to read as well as the ones given as assignments. Overall… another happy club meeting.

“Ah, Kim Eun Jo?” Our Vice-president calls me out as we dissolved the meeting. “Could you please help me carry these books to the library?”

Park Chanyeol was a senior who had the knack of bringing wonderful poems written by not-so-popular poets. Tall, handsome, and intelligent, this angel of a man could do no wrong so when he requests me for something, there was no way I would say no.

We chat amiably as usual as we walked to the library. The whole club being bookworms, it was only natural for us to have our club rooms near the library so it really wasn’t a big deal.

It felt too short to be honest, as we returned the books we used and said our byes.

It was always so much joy to interact with Park Chanyeol. He just had the most wonderful things to say and the most wonderful view on said things. If I could, I would talk to him the whole day and still want to talk some more.

I sigh a little as I think about how I would have to wait for the duo to finish their schedule for the day. Their club activities usually end up later than mine so I had to wait for them or I had to take the bus which… wasn’t really ideal.

I will rather be in the comfort of Minseok’s car than deal with the rush in the bus. Besides if I take the bus, I normally walk for around 10 minutes to get home so I really rather just wait and do something in the meantime.

Armed with a few books from the library, I head out towards the small park that would definitely be empty now. I hoped for a quiet afternoon as I relished the new books on the small park bench.

I greet a few familiar faces I know as I traveled to my destination. Perhaps it was the way the sun shined that afternoon but everything seemed rather… golden. It felt as though the sun shined more yellow than before or perhaps it was just the golden hour visiting a little earlier than normal.

But as I paused and marveled at the golden surrounding, the familiar yet alien feeling of anticipation blossomed within me all over again.

What was this? This was rather familiar to the feel