Kim Byul’s POV
 

There is this boy I know.
 

In 9^th grade, he had horrendous curls that covered his chestnut puppy eyes. He always tucked his shirt into what seem to me the same pair of washed out high-waist jeans. When our eyes accidently met, he would politely flash me a smile. Bits and pieces of kimchi were left stuck between his braces.
 

I cringed. But at the same time, unbeknownst to me, my heart did a tiny flip every time.

In 10^th grade, there was a scandalous rumor that went around school for a good two weeks. Something about a boy having affairs with a teacher, nothing too interesting and it eventually died down—like how everything does.  But the thing that bothered me, just a bit, was that I never saw him around school anymore. I wondered if…

After disappearing off the face of earth for a few weeks, I saw him again. Things picked up where they have left off and continued on throughout high school.

I am currently in my last year, two months away from graduation. Stress, stress, and more stress. For the past four years, so many things have changed that I can barely recall who I was before this. But one thing remained constant despite the tears, the goodbyes, everything… And it was that every morning and occasionally in the afternoon, he and I would share the same bus ride. Me to school and him… I don’t know.

This was the boy I know.

His name is Park Chanyeol. (I went back to the ninth grade yearbook to find his name… Yes, call me a creep, but hey, I had to satisfy my curiosity.)

Before tenth grade, he was what classified to be a “nerd.”

I remember how his Jansport backpack was always stuffed—bulging as if his books were about to burst out any moment. I remember how on occasional mornings, when he was late, he would frantically run down the block whilst dropping pieces of paper on his way.

Oh right, this is when I presumed he lived couple blocks from my house.

Of course, this was before the “incident” whatever that might be. After he reappeared, he was like a new person, completely foreign to me. (That doesn’t even make sense, because I don’t know him on a personal level to begin with.)  

He no longer had voluminous curls. He dyed his hair jet black. With a new trim, he pulled his fringe back, showcasing his perfect almond shaped eyes.

He no longer carried around his ragged Jansport. He no longer had braces. He was now what people would identify as a “Kingka.”

And I had no doubt he became popular with the girls. I mean I witnessed a couple times when random girls on the bus would “hit” on him, giving him sultry looks and kind “offers.”

At those times, I felt a tiny pinch at my heart—I don’t know why.

Days like these went on.

We waited at the same bus stop. The bus came. He would go first and I followed closely behind.
He took his usual seat as I walk to mine, two rows behind his.
If it just so happens, our eyes will accidently meet. He no longer greeted me with that foolish smile.
His eyes pierced through me and they seem to be brimmed with tears that were trembling to fall…
I would quickly divert my attention and fastened down on my seat.

This repeated everyday- rainy days, sunny days, windy days.

Sometimes I would stare mindlessly at the back of his head, wondering why and what happened to him and if he noticed the changes I made.
And other times, I would ask myself why was I such a freak… and such a damn observant freak at that.
But most of the times, I kept my eyes out the window, stressing over school and life.
 

However… recently, I noticed I have been thinking about this whole ordeal more and more. With graduation, what will happen?

But then again, why am I so bothered by this when we were strangers to begin with? Why do I feel like there’s something more to this person than I know or think I know?
 

-

Today, after four long years, I decided to take a leap- risk two minutes of my life. Screw it if he thinks I am a freak. Screw it if it makes me look creepy.
 

Before the bus door closed, I dashed off at his stop.

“Yah, Chanyeol!” I trailed after him.

Here I am skipping school, going up to a guy who probably doesn’t remember me to fulfill my curiosity. And I will begin with… what happened to you?