“October,” said the boy sitting on his bed and looking out of the window beside him. Cool wind blew. The long branches of the willow trees swaying in the air reflected on his black pupil. There was no expression on his face; he was just staring.
    It was in autumn. The sky was covered with a greyish-blue colour. Every day seemed to be the same for him, nothing so special.
    He got out of his bed and had a quick breakfast. Two pieces of bread, an egg, and a cup of milk. Most people tend not to eat very well when they live by themselves. He used to enjoy eating years ago until he was only at about the age of six. Since the day the conflagration that took away almost everything away from him, eating began to make him recall dreadful memories.
    “I’m leaving,” he said as he closed the door and headed to the school that he had just transferred to. No one replied, of course, because there was nobody but himself living in this somehow scruffy house most of the time.
    He was a 16-year-old ordinary people who had experienced brutal things. The kind of person that you’ll never find in a crowd, but things were not like this ten years ago. He was such a lucky boy who was born in an extremely wealthy family, whose parents loved him, but he was closer to his butler. The only daughter of his neighbor looked up to him and joked that she wanted to become his wife when they grow up. He had had a fabulous family that most people dreamed about; it seemed that the word “failure” would never appear throughout his lifetime. Nevertheless, his life was as smooth and successful as everyone thought it would be until he met the boy on a narrow road on his way home. The boy was beaten black and blue and lost conscious already. The entire body of the boy was covered with his own blood, undried. He sat beside a smelly garbage bin and his skinny body leaned against the dirty wall with his slender arms around his legs and head on his knees. It looked as if someone had left him here waiting for him to die. The boy’s name was Alan.
    “Ten years. Ten years have passed since the night you ran away from my house,” he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes as he always did. He was afraid of the little drops of warm liquid coming out of his eyes, but he always forgot the coldness of time. Sometimes tears were already dried; time seasoned them. It has been ten years that he looked for Alan. He couldn’t figure out the cause of his persistence. Well, a couple of years ago, he did think of giving up, but he knew, deep inside, that he would never stop looking for Alan until he found him. That was also the reason why he moved house fairly frequently.
    The front gate of his school was noisy, so did everywhere else. The chitchat between other students always dragged him out of his memories. This made him felt a little bit better in a certain way, but not much.
    He slowly walked into the classroom, hearing the boys and girls talking about M. C.’s new song. The boys rolled their eyes at the girls who nearly screamed, and suggested playing M.C.’s song.
    M.C. was a singer and songwriter who had become famous for less than a year, but already had lots of fans, pretty much because of his appearance, talent, and songs. Sad songs always touched people. His voice was attractive as well; however, no one would believe that M.C. was just a 15-year-old boy.
    He loved M.C.’s songs no less than anybody else that M.C.’s songs were played every day when he was at home. He didn’t dare to listen to M.C.’s songs anywhere outside because his songs made him thought about Alan. M.C.’s voice was so special to him; it was like the only key that opened his half-locked heart and memories about Alan.
    He closed his eyes as the music played in the classroom. He never looked at M.C.’s face. You might be curious about why, but the answer could be found at the beginning of his dark childhood that was overshadowed by the conflagration. He lost his parents and possessions after that, and it was also about a year after Alan left him.
    The daughter of his neighbor went crazy when he ran away to find Alan. Because of that, her parents decided to arrange a fake marriage to reassure their daughter. Despite that, her parents detested him after he lost his wealth.
    To please their daughter, her parents invited their idol to the “marriage” to give her a surprise. Ironically, the idol indeed made her happy, but a shadow was left in his life. When the idol showed up at the climax of the “marriage” came the ridiculous part. She was so excited that she lost the control of her emotion, hugged the idol, and shifted all her attention to the idol. Nonetheless, what made him hated and scared of all superstars was that immediately after she hugged the idol, hundreds of the guests cheered for her and the idol. His face went white; tears welled up in his eyes; he ran out of the place as if a tiger was chasing after him. No one seemed to notice that he was gone. They didn’t even care.
    “How dare you listening to music in front of the class!” the teacher’s loud voice brought his thoughts back to the present, “Quiet please!”
    “Ok, first, before class begins, I’d like to introduce a new student to our class,” she grinned, “Girls, I warn you to calm down.”
    “Who?” whispered a student.
    “Dunno,” answered her friend.
    The teacher seemed to say something, but as M.C. stepped into the classroom, her sound was covered by the screaming of the students.
    “Happy to be here. I’m Luis,” M.C. said with a faint smile.
    He recognized that voice in the noise, turning his head up and looking into M.C.’s eyes, so did M.C. They were both shocked.
    “Alan?!” his pupil went large.
    “Andy?” the smile disappeared on M.C.’s face.