That's no mistaking it.

I've seen that face before.

Crooked smile, sharp nose, brows furrowed, freckles, asymmetric fringe over green eyes, and well…that's it.

I cocked an eyebrow at him, who stood in front of me as I lean on the wall, under a shade of a tree, one leg up and leaning on the wall too.

The guy bent closer, although we were the same height, more or less, and said, "So we meet again, huh, Rora?"

"Tch. The name's Arora, fool," I replied.

"Know who I am?"

I nodded. "Mmhmm."

The guy smirked even more. "Then who am I?"

I smiled. "You don't know yourself?"

"No idiot, tell me who you think I am."

I smiled even more.

"You're just someone I used to know. Ain't that-"

THWACK! And just like that, with a chop of his hand on my head, I got a bruise.

"Owowowowow! Dude! I don't even know who you are! Jeez!" I cried, cradling my head and bending down just for protection.

I felt someone radiating a killing intent. The first thing I did was look up, and there was my answer. The stranger had set his glare upon me, a dark gaze, his fist up for a punch, and gritted teeth.

"I'm Gen, you retard."

Sigh. Straightening up, I looked at him confused and said, "Who the hell is Gen?"

Gen looked at me in surprise. "Hey, aren't you-" His expression changed to exasperation. "Don't play idiot, Rore."

"I don't play idiot; I AM one." I grinned. Then I repeated, "But I've never heard a Gen before."

"What?" he replied. "Oi, Rora, stop playing with me. I need to do some business here."

"Oh? Okay then! Just don't blame me if your 'business' gets spilled out to the public!" I teased.

"Hey, do you really know me?"

"Sorry, but for the last time, I don't know who you are, 'Gen'."

His face heated. Then he bowed respectfully and ran off, calling back to me, "Sorry, wrong person!"

Once I made sure he was out of earshot, I laughed. That Gen's such an idiot. More like gullible. Of course I remember the guy who took such special pains to win against me in everything back in third and fourth grade. And tried to 'steal my spotlight' in the fifth. By middle school, we had separated, but I still laugh in that guy's face. Call him a loyal friend, who's pretty embarrassed to be inferior to you, hence all the competition.

"Oh, you," I told myself.

That night, I texted him before bed.

'Heard u wnted 2 meet me, went 2 d wrong grl instead. 2 bad tho, d wrong grl was the rite one.'