PART I

It was my first day in my first job, and yet I was feeling like I was being kicked by a mad horse. Still, I was exceptionally early because even though I feel wondrously tired, I was brewing with anticipation. All the years of college hard work is finally gone - long left behind me with gusting and timeless dust.

No more exams. No more term papers. No more sleepless nights.

All I need is to receive my first ever pay check and I would finally be able to start a few steps towards my dreams. I worked really hard, did all my best, literally grinded my teeth, so that I can finish my studies. Because what I want is to make everyone proud of me.

To make him proud of me.

Not my father, mind you. He and my mother had a divorce before I was even born. I heard he has his own family now. My brother and I's monthly allowance is the only thing I can remember of him, and the only connection I have with him.

My inspiration in life is an entirely different person. He is Louis Tomlinson. He's the son of Aunt Johanna, who owns and lives at the little convenience store across the street.

I know Louis for a very long time now. I was only a little boy when I first met him. He is six years older than me. And it all started when he was 18, and I was 12.

Every morning, I would watch him go out of their house before he goes to school. He would be in his usual white uniform and tight blue pants. I love it when he's in those tight pants. You can really appreciate his naturally fit bodice.

I would watch him every time he goes outside their door before he goes to school. Sometimes I even smile at him, but of course he doesn't notice me.

He wasn't perfectly handsome – not the mestizo type, at least. I think he was ordinary looking? But all I know is that whenever he and my brother Liam (who is his bestfriend) stands side by side, my brother would look like a pet dog.

And I really liked his soft eyes. It is always gentle and sad-looking. And whenever his gaze accidentally falls on you, his eyes would always look as if it was pleading, as if it wants to say something. And you'll end up feeling like you want to help him erase his problems.

He's always like that whenever I see him every morning. As if he carries the burden of the world. As if he's about to cry.

His slightly long hair suits him well too. Maybe if he wouldn't be wearing a boy's uniform, you'd be mistaking him for a girl. He looks even more beautiful with his thick lashes that simply adds up to the sadness of his eyes.

One usual Thursday morning, I watched him go out of his house from our window again. Of course, like always, he didn't notice me. Maybe he has a lot in his mind.

So I just waved my hand. "Ba-bye," I said. And blew him a flying kiss. To my horror, he paused and stopped beside their gate. I hid immediately. If the worst case comes, he'd tell Liam. After a few minutes I peered again to see if he's still there. And he was.

But to my surprise, he was smiling and was waving his hands. "Bye baby Hazza..." the jerk said.

"Bye Lou," I muttered.

Nothing big changed in me since that day, except that I became noisier and loud each morning while peering at the window.

"Good morning, Boo Bear! Take care while on your way!" I'd greet him each morning, which he'd usually respond with "Morning sweet cheeks! Where's your brother?"

The constant greetings and flying kisses happened everyday, but not very long after that, something in my mind told me that I should probably greet whomever I see as well. I don't know why. I just felt I should. Because if only Louis is the only person I'll greet...if he's the only one...

So by the third week, I started greeting every soul I meet. Even stray cats. And trees. Especially if he's near, I always show that I greet everyone. I don't know why.

What's important is that no one would doubt.