At first, you thought that transferring to this school would feel boring again—just like it had been before; it was always like that whenever you changed schools.

You introduced yourself to the class that day; at first, everything was fine. Until he finally turned up in a rush, laughing whilst nervously scratching the back of his neck, only to end up being told off by the teacher.

You saw him sunbathing on the basketball court; you felt sorry for him, but you didn’t know him either.

He always turned up everywhere—in the canteen, on the basketball court, even in the car park. But not once did I ever see him flirting with girls; at most, he’d just say hello to them as a formality or simply because he knew them—nothing more.

He could be a bit of a smooth talker, but only in jest.

Until one day, he stared at you from the back row; his gaze was more intense than usual. You could feel that stare even from the very front row.