Alex's POV
IN THE BEGINNING
I remember the first time I saw him—that crazy, stingy, fat old man. I was just a kid, wearing old, worn-out pants and a faded white t-shirt, kneeling in front of his cluttered desk in a room that smelled like stale smoke and mold. The man lounged comfortably with his legs kicked up, dragging from a cigarette like he had all the time in the world.
He looked at me with those bored eyes, like I was just another name on a long list of problems he didn't feel like solving.
Without saying much, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a stack of documents. He tossed them onto the desk with a dull thud.
"Here, take a look," he said, his voice flat and cold.
I picked up the papers, flipping through them calmly. My face didn't move, not even when I saw it. The name.
"Thank you, sir," I said politely, "but you got my name wrong."
He grunted, uninterested. "Mmmh. That's your problem, not mine. It's just a letter. As long as I gave you what you wanted, does it really matter?"
I stared at the 'r' at the end of my name. Alexander. I sighed as I signed. "It is a big deal. It changes a lot."
He turned and looked at me properly for the first time. "Well, I don't see the difference. You look the part anyway. Get ready. Tomorrow, you're going. Unless, of course, you don't want to—"
"No, no. Thank you, sir." I bowed quickly and left before he could change his mind.
The next day, I stood in front of a bright, noisy classroom. The teacher introduced me with a smile like this was some big exciting thing for everyone.
"We have a new student joining us today. Please introduce yourself."
I stood tall, calm, unreadable.
"Good morning. My name is Alexander Romero. I'm from Sunpack, and I'll be studying here. Thank you."
That was it. Straight to the point.
Even with my flat expression, I heard the girls whispering, giggling. They always react the same way—must be the face. Delicate features, smooth skin. I've heard the comments my whole life: 'too pretty to be a boy'—funny, huh? The irony.
"Alright, with that out of the way, take your seat," the teacher said.
I walked to the back, last desk by the window. Quiet, distant. Just how I liked it.
That's when I noticed her—June.
She sat next to me. Soft brown hair, natural makeup, delicate features. She didn't say anything, just glanced at me curiously while I pulled out my textbook and ignored her.
At lunch, she came up to me, that same curious smile on her lips.
"Hi, my name's June. Want to have lunch together?"
I barely looked at her. "No, thank you."
Then I walked away.
She didn't get mad. Just smiled to herself like I'd issued some kind of challenge. I should've known then—she wasn't going to leave me alone.
Later, while walking home, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned. Her.
"Hey! Can we walk home together?" she asked, way too cheerful for someone I just rejected.
"No," I said flatly and kept walking.
She followed me anyway.
I stopped and spun on her. "What's wrong with you? Why are you following me?"
"Nothing. I'm going home."
"...Oh."
She lived in the same direction.
I clenched my fists and picked up the pace, embarrassed.
The next day, she poked my cheek with her pencil in the middle of class.
"Cut it out," I muttered, glaring at her.
"Do you ever smile or laugh? Do you even have emotions?"
I turned around and laid my head on the desk. Silence was always my weapon of choice.
After PE, I came back to find another love letter on my desk. It was ridiculous how quickly they came. Since I got here, girls acted like I was some mystery prize, and the boys? They hated me. I didn't care. But her? June? She was the real problem. She didn't know when to stop.
She suddenly appeared behind me, peeking over my shoulder.
"Another love letter? Who wrote it this time?" she teased. "You should tell them you're mine so they stop pestering you."
I turned, eyes locking onto hers. My voice dropped low. "When did I become yours?"
That wiped the grin off her face.
I leaned in, letting my height corner her. My face just inches from hers.
Her breath caught. Her cheeks turned red.
I raised my hand, resting it on the wall beside her head, and whispered, "Or was that supposed to be a confession?"
She panicked.
Bolted.
I couldn't stop the smirk that crept across my face as I watched her run.
"So that's how to handle her," I murmured before returning to my desk.
But it didn't stop her. If anything, it made her worse.
She kept coming. Leaving candies. Sneaking glances. Sitting too close. Her boldness got the other girls whispering, and the boys watching me like I'd stolen their dreams.
She didn't care. She just kept showing up.
And somewhere along the way… I stopped minding.
Her voice, her annoying persistence—it started to feel like background music. Familiar. Annoying. Comforting.
One rainy afternoon, I got stuck staring out the window, lost in my thoughts.
Of course, the door slid open. June.
She held a small umbrella.
"I figured you didn't bring one," she said, walking up to me.
"You shouldn't bother."
"But I want to," she smiled. "Besides, you'll get soaked."
I hesitated.
Then stood.
We walked under the narrow umbrella, side by side. The space was tight. Her arm brushed against mine every few steps. But it didn't feel awkward. The silence between us wasn't heavy. It was… calm.
"You know," she finally said, "you're not as cold as you pretend to be."
I gave her a sideways glance. Stayed quiet.
"You let me walk with you, after all," she added, smirking.
"You're stubborn," I muttered.
"And you're difficult," she replied. "I guess that makes us even."
When we reached the intersection near my apartment, she stopped.
The rain had lightened, and the streetlight cast a soft glow on her face.
"I'll stop bothering you—for today," she said. "But tomorrow, I'll be back."
I smirked. "I figured."
She leaned in suddenly and kissed my cheek.
I froze.
"There. That's for not being a total jerk today," she said with a giggle and turned away under her umbrella.
I just stood there, completely still.
My fingers brushed the spot where her lips had touched.
My heart… skipped.
"…What am I going to do with you," I whispered to no one, shaking my head.
But the smile wouldn't leave my face.