I remember the faint memory of when he moved in the neighborhood. It was during the start of the first semester of my sophomore year in high school. He lived in front of our house, and the newly built house which he lives in isn’t anything like ours. His was as grand as a castle, and ours was just the normal one any average family could afford.

Mom told me then, that the family who moved next door transferred here from the rich neighborhood that was in the south. I wasn’t excited by the news though, not like my parents or my siblings who were ecstatic at the sight of their luxurious cars, or just the people who lived in that house. Rich people just don’t house my interest. To me we’re not any different, it’s just that they were born rich and we happen to be born as average, that’s why I don’t see any point into seeing them as godly. So, I treat everyone equally.

Often times that I saw him, he would be walking out from the huge gates of their house, and would be passing by like he was in a hurry. He would always wear a snapback on his head, and would jog sneakily while turning his head to look from left to right like he was surveying whether the coast was clear. There were times when he would actually spot me whilst doing that because he would often go out in the morning when I would be going to school. Sometimes we would have eye contact, but I would be first to look away and go the opposite direction of where he would be going because that was my way to school and it’s just that he always go the opposite to mine. Never was there a time that we happened to walk on the same direction. Well, at least, not until he actually transferred to my school. Either he would walk, or he would drive a luxurious black sports car going to school, but nonetheless, on the way we never had the chance to talk, and I was just okay with that.

In school, I had seen him several times before, and I had figured out that he’s a year ahead of me. He was a Junior while I was just a Sophomore. He may had probably never seen me in school though, because I never saw him look my way unlike when we just happen to pass by each other  on our street. It didn’t bother me though, because I don’t have the time to associate with him either, because that boy became popular and was friends with the most coveted guys in school, not to mention that all of them are actually rich, handsome, and talented.

I remember it when I first heard his name, it was the first time he entered the cafeteria, the girls were crowding around him and his group of friends, and they called him Kai. I found his name actually funny because it sounded like a girl’s, but I never actually had the courage to joke about it because I had never tried even with my other classmates. Anyway, why would I even try? The least I wanted to happen is to be enemies with the overpowering, the bullies, the rich, the proud—because I wanted to graduate with good reputation since I’m one of the aces in our batch. I drive my life in the right direction so I can graduate with flying colors and without any setbacks, just like the legacy my older brother and sister left. At their times, they were popular because they mixed in well with the cool kids in school too, they are really smart too, pretty and handsome, in many ways a hundred times better than me. So, even though it’s like I’ve got less of the good genes from my parents, unlike them, I try my best to equal their milestones. I work harder than them, twice or perhaps even thrice hard working than they did. Because admittedly, I felt like my looks were just average, I felt like I’m smart but not a genius, I felt like I won’t mix well with the popular kids because I’m quiet and not too sociable that I had shallow friendship even in class, I felt like I’m not talented that’s why I at least tried to excel in one thing or another. In short, again, I’m just average.

The time when I started dating, it was one of the best times of my life. I knew it really was because he was my first love. We happen to be in the same club, so to say, the Music Club, and he was the first guy to ever impress me because his singing prowess was on another level. More than being talented, I could say that his voice was something that captured my heart—it was sweet, soothing, and sorrowful at times, but what made me attracted to it is that it can actually touch my heart.

In the beginning, it was just me purely adoring him because of his talent, but every time I notice him look at me, or him just simply being near me, I felt that weird and fuzzy feeling towards him. It’s like he was drawing me near to him, whether with his eyes or his voice, that I started to harbor romantic feelings for him. Not long after that, he confessed to me that he likes me, and I was more than happy to accept it no matter how ov