Sanghyuk fiddled with the blue origami paper on his fingers. It’s a lovely paper, must be costly, he thought as he unwrapped it from its original crane-shape. It still looked somewhat tidy—almost as if someone had folded the origami so carefully, without a single flaw. Written on the paper was in Hangeul, 사랑해. It was written down with blue inked pen and done very neatly, as neat as how the crane was folded. Obviously, it was written down by a Korean, not one of these Japanese girls surrounding him. Why would they even learn Korean for him anyway? Beneath it was also written with an equally neat hand-writing, ‘meet me on the sakura line after your last class’ in Japanese. He couldn’t help but hope a little. Maybe that person decides that he should take a step and be the more responsible one. Well, at least that was what he liked to believe.

It was late spring in Japan. All the flowery pink scenes, giggling girls in short skirt, and boys in love scattered around the country. And maybe Sanghyuk was one of them. Sighing, the red haired boy folded the paper he got and gently shove it into his pocket, letting his eyes fall toward the cherry blossom lane just by looking slightly to the left from where he’s sitting.

Like any other day, he would stand there; the mysterious darkness mingling with the fallen cherry blossoms’ light pink petals, dancing around each other in a beautiful classical music. Watching them is like reading a lovelorn haiku. Several petals would then tangle between his dark ebony hair without him realizing, while some would slip into his clothes, his collars, his pockets, several would be lucky enough to get the chance to graze against his