His vision blurred as he slowly blinked his eyes open. Minho’s mind was slowly processing his thoughts as his senses awakened. He groaned as he rolled to his side in the bed. Another dream about him… Minho thought. He then recalls being drunk and why he carelessly shoved the drinks down his throat. It was all because of the high school reunion he attended, in which he discovered what the years had done to his old classmates, what has happened in their lives, and how much they’ve matured but it also made Minho realize the differences with his life and theirs—he wasn’t content with his. After seeing his old friends happy, it made him enrage with envy, and it felt like he could taste the resentment in his mouth as he reminisced the past with his ancient schoolmates. Therefore, it caused him to feel the need to indulge himself with alcohol, trying to forget about all the things he’s been missing out on, to get rid of that empty feeling within him.

            Minho should have known how much things would’ve changed. It’s natural for humans to think about how things might’ve been if they hadn’t done this or that, and maybe if they hadn’t gone down the path they chose back then maybe it wouldn’t lead them to where they were now. And that is just what Minho exactly thought of, how he screwed up along the way in his college years and look at him now— with his boring, repetitive life as a bank teller with no further dreams or hopes like he had used to in the past. Minho didn’t understand why things have happened the way they have, he couldn’t—no one could—and that’s just how life is, unpredictable and sometimes a bit… unfair.

            After remembering all the depressing things he had to deal with last night, he dragged his tired body upwards to sit on the mattress, his eyes wandered around the dull and somewhat empty room. The room that used to be filled with his clothes, soccer posters, medals, trophies but now all that’s left is a bed, a desk, and a drawer. After sitting in silence, Minho wondered how he even ended up at his parent’s house, he clearly remembers passing out at Jonghyun’s house—where the party was located. The dream he had suddenly popped up into his head, he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan. Why do I keep dreaming about him...? The tired male turned his head to the left to glance out the window beside him, he saw that the sun was gleaming from up high and saw it peeking over the orange-colored leaves from the tall trees. It’s been awhile since he’s been in his home-town; he estimated that his last visit was probably five years ago.

            The bed creaked loudly as he removed himself from the bed, dragging his feet across the cool, crisp wooden floors to the closet to find a new set of clothes to wear for the day. As soon as he opened the door, books clattered and fell from above, landing just a few inches away from his feet, and he jumped back—startled by the sudden objects. Minho let out an exasperated sigh as he crouched down to pick up all the dusted books that were no longer needed, as his hands roamed about, something caught his attention. A worn-out and tattered black spiral notebook, his hand automatically reached for it as his mind reminded Minho what this notebook was—his old journal back in middle and high school, the golden years of his life. Minho was surprised that this still existed, sitting his bottom down, he opened the journal and revealed the words written in black ink on the first page.

August 15^th (Freshmen Year of Middle School)

Time to write about my first day of my middle school life! It was fun and exciting. My old pals from grade school are in the same classes as me as well, so I’m not a loner! I think I made a new friend (I forgot to ask for his name) and this is how we met… in the morning when I was kicking my soccer ball around to kill time before going to school, I accidentally hit the convenient store’s window and the owner was angry and began chasing me! He was psycho, I mean, all I did was break it, I’m sure he had money to fix it. But it’s a good thing I play soccer because I sprinted like the wind, but I didn’t know that I would run into someone at the edge of the fence at the park. We collided and I apologized but then I heard the owner coming, so I grabbed the boy and dragged him along with me. It was so scary I thought we were going to be caught! Later, I found out that he attended the same middle school as me, I saw him walking down the hallways. Oh yeah… I forgot to mention, he looked prettier than most girls so I almost mistook him for a girl when we bumped into each other! I’ll ask him for his name tomorrow, if I see him.

            Minho shook his head in disbelief, he sounded so... childish, so carefree back then. Remembering this day made him chuckle a bit, an effortless and weary chuckle, his innocence back then was hard to imagine. Now, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue reading because it made him realize that just about every entry in this journal was about his ex-lover, Taemin. Did he really want to bring up more sad memories? Not really, but his curious and eager fingers turned the page anyway.

August 16^th (Freshmen Year in Middle School)

I saw that pretty boy again. He’s so skinny and fragile looking! I accidently called him a girl and he got angry, it was pretty funny and cute! But he said that I was a weirdo, calling him cute and following him around. I like him though, is it weird that my heart goes ‘doki doki’ when I see him? Oh well, when I followed him to the same park I bumped into him, he told me to quit stalking him, haha! I threw my soccer ball at him, he doesn’t seem to be good at sports, and anyway the point is that he decided to be my friend (not really since I just said “we’re friends now!”)! This skinny, fragile, bad at playing sports friend, I wonder what it is going to be like.

            His eyes widened from shock as he spoke to himself, “man, did I really sound this… annoying?” As Minho continued going through the journal, he realized how much he really missed his ex, considering that almost every single page was written about him. There was even a page that just had Lee Taemin written everywhere in different angles and written in small or big print. He rolled his eyes, thinking that he must have been a silly boy back then. Going further into the journal, he stopped at a page, frowning…

September 27^th (Sophomore Year of High School)

I scored the winning goal, now the school’s team will be going to regional! But Taemin is upset with me, why can’t he understand how important this game was? He should be able to understand why I couldn’t come to our 6^th month anniversary date. He could have gone to the after-party with me if he wanted to, so why should he be angry for? Whatever, he’s probably just over-reacting, I’m sure he’ll get over it. I’m excited for regional though, college scouts will surely be there to find recruits.

            Did I really choose a game over Taemin? Minho slowly set down the journal, the pieces was finally falling together; everything started to go downhill when Minho became blinded by the sin of vanity. The reason things didn’t work out the way he wanted it to be was all because his world only revolved around himself. His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, he found his hand clutching his right leg—the leg that ruined his soccer career in college. He let out a long and distressing sigh; there was no use in thinking about it now if it was already all in the past. Minho wasn’t even sure where Taemin was right now since he didn’t show up at the reunion. Minho at least hoped that the Taemin now was leading a wonderful life. After searching around in the drawers of his closet, he found a pencil, and returned to the page he had left open to begin writing.

September 27^th (Sophomore Year)

I scored the winning goal, now the school’s team will be going to regional! But Taemin is upset with me, I should have tried to understand his reasons from his point of view instead of being inconsiderate…

Why can’t he understand how important this game was? He should be able to understand why I

This date to him was probably important, and I should have made it important to me as well… I’m sure if I chose

Couldn’t come to our 6^th month anniversary date. He could have gone to the after-party with

the date with him over the after-game party, we would have had a great time together, but it’s too late to dwell.

me if he wanted to, so why should he be angry for? Whatever, he’s probably just over-reacting, I’m sure he’ll get over it. I’m excited for regional though, college scouts will surely be there to find recruits.

            After writing down his current thoughts, he felt a bit weird talking to his old self. Nothing was going to change anyways, so why should he feel as if he should reply to his old entries? He thought about how high school did seem to change him back then, he was arrogant, strong-willed, full of pride because of his skills and abilities, his popularity back then got to his little naïve teenage head. Setting the pencil down, he reread his new words, silently wishing that maybe if he’d done that, things wouldn’t have ended so badly with Taemin. Minho buried that memory so deep within him, he had almost forgotten that day, the cold day where they cut ties with each other. It was a day when he was weak, vulnerable, and mad because he tore his a.c.l. and couldn’t continue playing soccer in college. All his fame and dreams shattered, just like his right knee. He lost everything within months after years of building up to it; he lost all of his love, including Taemin. As seconds ticked by, his brown eyes pierced at his words for they were glowing. His brows dropped as his head tilted, the letters were literally burning a fiery gold in his hands, and he could feel his whole self just being slowly consumed.

            His eyes widened with fear, his mind going blank, trying to process what was going on. The pages of the journal created a white flash and Minho felt his whole body being in like a vacuum, swallowing him whole. In a second, he ended up outside… Minho staggered in place, catching himself before falling. His head was facing down, he found out that he was standing on lively green grass under the clear blue skies, beautiful like the vast ocean, and the next thing he saw were his feet… they were wearing red soccer cleats, seeming vaguely familiar with this scene, his eyes trailed up his legs—white long socks with thick shin guards hidden underneath them, black Nike shorts that cropped by his low thighs. His eyes travelled further and spotted a big white number in the middle of his chest… the number he favored—number 10. Minho blinked confusedly, his brain trying to rack in all the information, what the heck just happened?

            A loud whistle blew from a distance, cheering, and low voices yelling. After seconds of standing there in the middle of a soccer field, surrounded by faces unknown, he stood there blank, overwhelmed by everything. “Minho! What the heck are you doing?!” Some unknown voice shrieked. He turned his head and saw familiar faces in red uniforms running towards him. His mind still wasn’t there yet so his feet moved by instinct when he saw a black and white ball flying above the ground as it headed towards him. Trapping the ball with his feet, he swiftly moved with it, juking the opponents as he aimed straight for the goal. His body was slowly remembering the area, the players, the fans, the referees, the coaches, and the feeling of playing. He felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins, his chest heaving in and out, and his feet moving without will, just instinct. All he could think of right now was that white goal and the ball in front of his feet, controlling it. Minho placed all the power he had into his right leg and kicked it hard, the ball went spiraling towards the goal, escaping from the gate keeper’s hands and safely landing into the net of the goal.

His eyes followed the ball, people bumping into the back of shoulder as he watched, panting hard.

He scored.