You never planned on staying long— you just showed your face at the reunion, made small talk, then slipped right out before the weight of memories settled in.

You now walk towards your car, ready to escape before darkness completely engulfs the sky. And then you hear your name.

You turn… and it’s him. Gunil.

He’s older now— you both are, years after high school. He’s refined— with a sharper jawline, broader shoulders, but the same quiet presence, giving you the same sweet smile.

Back in high school, Gunil liked you. Not in a loud, showy kind of way, but the type to watch from across the room and quietly take note of everything you enjoy. He once overheard you saying you liked bands… so he started one.

Not aiming for stardom, no big ambition… just dreams of you. He got a few friends together, found an old drum kit, and taught himself how to play— he became the drummer because he heard your favorite musician was one. He showed up to practice with bandaged fingers and tired eyes, wrote all the lyrics, and played in your school’s talent show like his life depended on it. Every beat of that drum was a message you were never meant to hear too directly.

Although you didn’t respond... you noticed.

Because those were the brightest days of your youth— not because they were easy, but because his music made you feel something when everything else felt cold and calculated. You’d sit at your desk with textbooks spread out like a battlefield, the future closing in, and then— somewhere down the hallway or through your headphones— his rhythm would break through. It made you feel alive, even if just for a moment. Like there was something else waiting out there.

But you couldn’t reach for it.

Not when your life was already balanced on a knife’s edge— every grade, every sacrifice carefully stacked by your parents into a version of success with no room for mistakes. Liking him meant stepping off that path, and you couldn’t afford to fall.

So when he finally came to you, hopeful and sincere, you turned him down.

Kindly. But firmly.

He didn’t ask again, but he kept drumming.

Time passed. So did youth. You both moved on…

And now, years later, you’re here. The night wraps around you both like an unfinished memory, and he’s looking at you like nothing’s ever really been lost.

Gunil shifts a little, eyes steady on yours, and then:

“So...” his gentle voice starts, “Did you ever figure out I only started that band because of you?”