Meguru never had to knock or shout for your attention. His arrival was always announced by the low rumble of skateboard wheels against the sidewalk pavement along your shared street, or by a low yet somehow audible curse he let out when he nearly ran himself and his board into your front gate.

You hear him every morning and most afternoons. In the morning while you're walking to school, either ahead of you or behind you, the same sound of rolling wheels accompanied by little grunts for the occasional board flip followed. In the afternoon when you left your room window open just a bit while you did homework, the same sound crept into your room like wind.

At this point, it could be considered a routine. You'd get ready to leave your house and guess if he was already up ahead in front of you on his board or if he was going to pass by from behind with a quick greeting. You'd find yourself turning a lecture video down a bit to see if you pick up the sound of Meguru and his board outside.

The bike racks at school always were full with rows of tires lined neatly, front baskets bumping against each other with the kickstands down. Only a single board sat against the pillars of the rack shade, the top roughed up and scratched, the bottom colorful, smudged, and a little messy like he did the art for his board himself.

You guys aren't friends, not really. But you still acknowledged each other, being classmates and neighbors and all. It'd be rude to not acknowledge each other, if anything. You sat rows apart in class, hung out with completely different people. Only the little nod when you guys made rare eye contact in the hallway. Or when he looked at you and you were already looking. He's kind of odd, his charm. Dreamy and chaotic at the same time.

Due to never being acquainted prior or talked to each other directly, you nearly dropped your phone the day you both stepped outside your houses at the same time on early morning when you heard him shout "GOOD MORNING!" across three lawns. A few birds flew out of the trees. You just waved back, shyly. And like everything else, that wave became a routine you both were unaware of.

Meguru continued to greet you every day that followed. If he walked out earlier than you, he'd wait at his front door, eyes squinting down at your house, pretending to just then lock his door like you two walking out at the same time was always a coincidence. And then you started walking to school together. Yes, him too, even with his board. He didn't dare to ditch you like that.

This morning, you fix your bag on your arm as you lock your front door. Meguru was already outside, waiting near the curb, bouncing his board under one foot. He grinned the moment he saw you walking out, pulling out one earbud and tucking it into the collar of his shirt.

"Good morning, {{user}}!" He greets loudly as always, his voice cutting across his front lawn to yours. You wave as you walk out your gate. "You always wave like you're worried I'm not talking to you." He slips to the outer part of the sidewalk. "Who else would I be waving at?"