“What day is it today?”

Bunhong rolls her eyes. This is the umpteenth time I’ve asked her this question. “October 10.”

“Thank you.” I write the date down on the northeastern corner of my paper.

The class goes on, and I keep on telling myself just two more hours. I keep on doing the countdown in my head that it keeps me from focusing in my class. I feel like I’m floating now; one of the reasons why I keep on forgetting the date is there’s only one thing, or better, name, that keeps on running through my head. Zelo, Zelo, Zelo. The call of last night never seems to get out of my head, yet there is only a single thing I remember: “Listen to what they say”. I try to recall how it exactly happened, and my brain tells me it’s only a dream. Well because if it was true the call would be registered on my call history.

Okay.

A dream it is, then.

As soon as the bell of the last subject rings, signaling the day’s end, I hurriedly gather my things.

“Oh, oh, oh! Why in such a hurry?” Bunhong exclaims, catching a few of my possessions that are falling off the table.

“I need to go somewhere,” I plainly answer. Before I come running out of the room I bid her good-bye, and my last memory of Bunhong for that day is her bewildered face.

***

I drop all of the things I have been carrying, and as it makes a sound, the boy turns. I eye him with the distance between my brows slightly decreased, panting furiously.

He looks at me with this really amused look on his face—brows up, mouth slightly parted with corners turned up exhibiting a smile. “You’re late.” is his greeting.

I dispose of the withered flowers on my parents’ tombstones and replace it with fresh, pretty ones.

“And you’re not in your school uniform.” Zelo remarks.

I nod at his direction.

“What took you so long?”

“I picked up some things on my way here.”

He sniggers. “Did you not go to school today?”

“I did.” I walk past him and kneel on one knee, facing the tombstone of Choi Junhong. I set the withered flowers aside and put in front the new ones. “Hello, Junhong-ssi,” I say to it sweetly, smiling, ignoring the guy behind me who didn’t even have the decency to greet me a good afternoon.

“Hi.” Zelo responds.

I snap my head to his direction, puzzled.

He looks at me, alarmed, with this look like he wants to be exonerated of a crime. I scowl at him. “Junhong says hi.” He clears up.

Silence reigns for a long while. I’m waiting for him to say something. Anything. Eventually he voices, “How’s your friend Bunhong?”

“She’s alright,” I answer, feeling a little annoyed why he didn’t even ask about me. Me. Me, who is here right now. The piercing feeling gets worse and I ask him, voice a tad higher than it should be, “Do you know her?”

He blinks once. Twice. There’s this listless look on his face that tells me I should know the answer to the question I’m asking. His lower lip is slightly protruded outward. “I do.”

“What is your relation to her?”

 “You really want to know?”

I want to know the truth and only the truth. Why can you not give it to me straight? “Well if you don’t want to tell me, then—“ I swing my backpack over my shoulder, discovering this pinching feeling in my chest. I walk out. “—I’ll be going. You don’t seem very honest today,”

He laughs. “Stop, Heebin.”

I don’t know what really does make me, but all I know—it’s against my will.

“It would be too sad if we don’t use that picnic mat you brought,” he says, in a matter-of-fact tone.

I quickly take a look at my bag. It’s tightly closed. Very much zipped. How did he know I’m carrying it? I glare at him. He knows what I’m going to ask next so he beats me to it.

“Now don’t ask. I just happened to know,” he smiles, and eyes the wide space filled with green grass. “I’m in the mood for stargazing, too,”

There’s a fluttering feeling at the pit of my stomach and my face construes it as warmth. “I’m going home.” I say stoutly.

He no