Seventeen Lee Chan Fanfic | "My 13th month."

7. O- Our first meeting.

Chapter 7.
O . Our first meeting.
June 2014.

It's me there, fifteen and a half-year-old me, with my new round geeky glasses on, holding my sketch book close to my chest as if someone is going to steal it away.

It's me, in the imagination bubble above your head, I am walking my way out of the high school I go to, straight to the Ice cream shop I've discovered a couple of days ago.

I remember seeing the same person at that local ice cream parlor, but I haven't met her yet, as a friend, as my heart really wished to.

Today, you guys, are going to jump with me, back in time, to the day when our friendship was born and started to flourish.

Eva Isberg, the first one I met on that summer, out of the four.

My gold haired Norwegian girl-friend, big brown-greenish eyes and a smile you can't ignore.
Eva Isberg.

I met her on the 7th of June at Minty's, the famous Ice Cream place.

I've already been there before, but I never noticed how their Ice-Cream really taste like, until the day I met Eva, but before I saw her for the first time, or even talked to her, I want to start the whole story with the first person out of the five of us. me.

Lee Collins, the geeky girl with her dyed hair, almost red-headed and bangs that hides her eyebrows.

Or by my full name, Hailee Collins, from Chapel hill- North Carolina.
I moved to Koreatown with my parents when I was ten years old but my dad has a business there for almost 20 years now, so he leaves us every 3 months back to North-Carolina.
As a single child without good friends around me, I've turned my sketch book into my best friend.

I'll take you now to that day, the 14th of June, 2014, when I put my headphones on and pressed play.
"Afternoon playlist." 30 songs of a Korean rock band from 2010, playing in my headphones as I cross the road and my eyes meet with slanted-mono-lids eyes that are staring at me blatantly.

I can't believe I am facing the Asian boy I sketch in every biology class.

The Asian boy has come to life.
The Asian boy I sketch- with or without his face-mask covering his mouth, is standing right in front of me.
As a girl whose best friend is her sketchbook, I was so eager about the sketch of the Asian boy I made up in my mind as my best friend, and now that I see him, the real Asian boy I sketch every now and then, looking at me back, I stop just like him and look at him for few seconds.
It looks like he's about to tell me something.
but... what is it?

Come on, coward, ask for her name, make something up, you've been watching her every afternoon on your way to the tennis court for a quite long time now and something keeps on pulling your heart to the same girl.

As my mind really realizes I am standing in front of that boy, my cheeks start to burn up, I turn around with my back to him and start walking away.

My palms start to sweat as I hold onto my sketchbook and the invitation I received today from the weird Korean guy that visited our high school, is falling without me to notice.
It flies with the wind, stops near his feet.
The angels are hovering his head, they're with him, pushing him to that girl.
"Excuse me!" A voice is heard from behind me.
That voice. Such an adolescent tone.
My heart stops, but my legs start running as if I'm not a part from this reality.
"Yah! It's yours!" I hear the same voice as I run, he's shouting but in a calm tone.
And there I stop, as a picture in my imaginative mind comes and makes me stop running.
I turn around at once to see the Asian boy, running so quickly to me, handing me the stupid invitation I should've thrown away a long time ago.
"No." I reply firmly as I shake my head.
He starts laughing, and the next step he makes, is making my knees weaken.
He takes my sketchbook without trying too hard, opens it and places it inside, between pages.
"Wow, you're talented... no wonder-" He's saying, as he's flipping through the pages.
Oh my god. My eyes widening to what I see.
"You're quite rude, if I may say."
"You should come to the party- Oh." He ignores my words and I watch his face expression changing in seconds as he stops on a certain page.
Party. My sketchbook. The Asian boy.
I close my eyes as if I am inside a dream that I want to escape from.
Oh.
"That... sketch. It looks like me." He giggles as he's stroking the pencil lines.