I walk along the quiet hallway, carrying the stack of books to my locker. Another school day ends, I purse my lips, shoving the books onto the top shelf. Glancing at my mirror, I tuck the loose strands of hair behind my left ear. I sigh at the thought of the due date of my literature essay. I can’t understand why it has to be turned in so soon when most of us in class are busy with other subject assignments. Well that’s high school. But nevertheless, I’m lucky enough to sort out my schedule well. It’s the last year of high school anyway.

The strumming of a guitar earns my attention, I peer my head over to the music room. Out of curiosity, I walk over to the window. I see a back figure of a gentleman who is facing the window on the opposite side. He is playing a guitar, strumming in peace while staring outside. I raise my eyebrow, smiling as I head back to my locker. I have never seen someone playing an instrument in the music room after school. That is why I find it odd for someone to be in that room.

“Must be practicing for a talent show,” I say to myself. I pack the stuff I need in my bag, then marching off to the school gate.

More days pass, I find it weirder whenever I hear the sound of the guitar strumming from the music room. I pass by the music room every afternoon before heading back home, noticing the familiar gentleman with the guitar. Although I’ve never once seen his face,  he isn’t in a talent show for sure, nor in the school band since I recognize no guitarist participating in that group. That guy must be one of those mysterious people I come across. Like he’s that type of mystery man in a fiction novel.

“Yoona!” I turn my head to the voice who calls me.

I smile at Yuri, greeting her with a friendly hug. “Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing, I just wanted to ask if you want to study Math together at your place,” she suggests.

I nod my head. “Yeah sure, I’ll make us some snacks as well.”

Not for long, the familiar melody rings in my ears. “Yuri, do you know who that person is?” I ask, walking her to the window, pointing at the guy.

Yuri peeks through the window, shrugging. “He’s a special student, new to the school, transferred about a few weeks ago.”

“Really? I don’t see him in any classes.”

“No one does. He’s a special student remember? Anyway, let’s go!” Yuri grabs my hand as we walk out of the school.

We reach my house, Yuri skipping to the kitchen to help me with the snacks. We talk about the solutions and equations, attempting to solve some math problems.

But my mind thinks of him.

“Isn’t this right? Yoona?” Yuri taps my shoulder.

I divert my eyes on the paper, chuckling nervously. “Did you check the answer?”

“I did, just checking with you,” she grins at me.

The following day has the same usual routine. But this afternoon, I decide to extend my curiosity about this guy with the guitar. I close my locker shut, making my way in the music room. There he sits by the window, strumming the guitar which I have eventually become familiar with. I tiptoe my way to him with light steps. Afraid that I may scare him. I straighten my skirt and bite my lower lip out of anxiety.

“Is there someone there?” I jump at his surprisingly deep voice. How did he know I’m behind him?

With the guy’s back facing me, I stand crossing my legs awkwardly. “Sorry, am I disturbing?” I ask.

He remains still. “I’m not used to people approaching me,” he replies.

“Why?” I say.

“It ruins the mood.”

I frown a little at his response. Is he really that isolating? Why is he making himself miserable?

“Well I’m sorry,” I say. “Your music has been staying on my mind for quite some time. Ever since you came to this school…” I trail off not knowing what to say. I take a step forward, leaning over to catch a glimpse of his face. I stand beside him, my mouth parts. He’s the first guy I’ve ever seen to be this good-looking. Although I notice the lack of emotion in his eyes. Also, I’m wondering why he doesn’t notice me. Can he not see me? He senses my presence but not my actual figure.

“Excuse me,” I call out to him. He tenses when I wave my hand in front of his face. “Can you see me?”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes outside the window. I notice he swallows hard when I ask him the question.

“Are you blind?” I ask him calmly. “You don’t seem to notice me. I waved my hand in front of you just now.”

He stands up all of a sudden, with the guitar in his hand. I observe his feet shuffling across the music room heading to another door which leads to a classroom. My eyes fall onto the stool he sits on.

A blind gentleman who can play the guitar.

I toss and turn on my bed not being able to sleep. I wonder why he doesn’t let himself communicate with other people. I think of the possible reasons why he is distant from others. One thing is because he is blind, but that doesn’t mean he has an excuse to not talk to people. Everyone is different and whether he is blind, he’s a student like us. For some reason I feel sorry for him because of the state he is in. He must’ve been upset with himself for being like that. A week passes, I didn’t see him in the music room during that duration.

But he finally shows up the week after that.

I want to confront him again, wanting to get to know him better. He doesn’t seem to have any friend and that saddens me. I want to be his friend, wanting to accompany him. I carry a stool with me, placing it beside him. I sit next to him quietly as he plays the guitar. One thing that amazes me is that he is blind, yet he has a musical talent he carries with him. His eyes are shut, I watch him closely.

He looks breathtaking.

As the strumming comes to a halt, I clap for him. His eyelids open, his right hand drops to his knee.

“You should play more,” I urge him. “You play very well,” I praise.

He clears his throat