Sungjong felt a tingling sensation behind him. He knew someone was looking at him. He could feel the pinpricks of someone’s gaze. He does not know why, but he just knows. It’s just that odd feeling and it put him out of place.
Should I turn around and look? No, that’s too weird, right? I shouldn’t look at them looking at me? Does that even make sense? Oh stop, you’re overthinking it now. No one’s looking at you. You’re not the center of attention.
He let the argument run around in his head. For two simple seconds, he was able to convince himself that it was all in his head. This odd feeling. Maybe his mom used a different softener and that’s what this awful sensation was.
For two simple seconds, he leaves it alone. He looks at his phone swiping through kakao talk looking for something to occupy his mind.
He looks out the window, but nothing.
He still feels watched, and its uncomfortable.
He pulls at his collar.
Get a grip, no one cares.
He turns away from the window, towards the aisle in an attempt to look at the person? Or is it people looking at him?
He just wants the uncomfortable feeling to end. And boy, does he know uncomfortable. There was a time when his buddy, Dongwoo took pictures of him at the fair in cosplay and it was a part of the worst moments of his life. Talk about uncomfortable.
Sungjong vowed that if he found himself in an uncomfortable situation, he would resolve it. He would find his way around it and stand at the top.
Maybe thats why all the hyungs think I'm a little bit devious. He snorts.
He thinks up a plan.
Okay how about this? Drop the phone in the aisle, turn around, pick it up, find the Sungjong watcher. Sound like a sane idea. No? Yeah? Okay, let’s just do that. Sungjong, you can basically do that.
He gets ready - the world his stage and he, the main performer.
The bus turns, and the grip on his phone lightens just a bit.
On the count of three.
One. Some people push their way towards the back of the bus, getting ready to leave at the next stop.
Two. The tingling on his back still hasn't stopped he notices. If anything, its worsens, if that is even a possibility Sungjong doesn't know.
Three, the bus jerks to a stop.
The phone actually slips out of his hand a little bit early than expected. He fumbles for it, but it drops. His eyes are on the phone rather than the aisle and he watches it fall out into the hands of another.
Oddly, it feels as though time has stopped in Sungjong's head. His eyes follow the length of the hands and arms all the way to a face. He looks up into the warmest brown eyes he has ever seen in his 19 years of life. Warm eyes twinkling and a mouth that is moving and nothing is registering.
The mouth stop’s moving and curves into a smile. He stares at me expectantly.
Stupid Stupid Sungjong. Why do you make a fool out of yourself. But really, are those stars in his eyes.
Sungjong squeaked out an excuse me, because of course I didn’t hear a single word that came from those lips.
The smile on his face doesn’t fade. If anything, it becomes wider. It was probably brighter than the sun. Okay maybe I’m exaggerating but damn.
‘Your phone,’ a voice as warm as chocolate spoke. Oh shit.
Sungjong repeats after him, confused, “My phone?”
His hand is outstretched and there in his hand is my samsung galaxy note.
And I couldn’t be any stupider.
“I…yeah I’m so sorry. Yeah that’s my phone. In your hand.” Sungjong rattles on, making no motion to remove his phone from the outstretched hand. A faint blush found its way on his cheeks.
The stranger, with a voice like chocolate and eyes like stars, offers his hand even further now.
“Your phone. I kinda have to get off the bus now.”
“Oh uh yes,” Sungjong manages to say.
Sungjong grabs it from him almost dropping the phone again.
The stranger grips Sungjong’s hand and stops him from moving so much. The stranger makes sure the phone is secured in his hand. “Be careful not to drop it so much.” The stranger says with a slight smirk.
The bus stops and time seems to have started back up again.
Sungjong’s eyes follows the stranger’s retreating back in the throng of people getting off until he loses him.
Sungjong sits back down in his seat. He touches his cheeks and practically feels the warmth in them. Who was that? What just happened? Did you have to sound like that? Like you didn’t know how to talk? You idiot.
Sungjong looks through the window, wishing he could still follow the stranger’s back. Possibly redeem himself.
A few minutes later, Sungjong realizes that the tingling sensation is gone for the rest of his trip.