No one in the world loved music more than Felix Corbel. No one in the world dared to interrupt him from the trance he put himself into, listening only to the subtle sounds of his earphones. No one else could hear what he heard. And no one else certainly tried.

Except, as life would usually have it, the other kids that bullied him for being so antisocial and too quiet. His earphones would get unplugged from their little nests every now and then and he'd be backed up against a wall or row of lockers, but he didn't lose the trance inside his head. He'd stay quiet, looked at the boy in front of him who held his shirt collar and asking him nonsense before surrendering once more to the sounds only he could hear. Even without his earphones, he'd easily lose himself when he closed his eyes as he waited for that inevitable shove, slap and push down toward the floor. He'd be left behind then, picking his things up and straightening his shirt before plugging his ears, once again becoming deaf to the world.

No one knew Felix beyond that. No one else dared to talk to the weird kid who wore plain clothes without the slightest taste whatsoever. And 12-year-old Felix didn't seem to mind.

No one wanted to listen to his music. No one, until I saw him one afternoon.

"Don't they bother you?"

He sat on the dirt field of our school's playground. As any day would have it, he sat by himself and watched everyone else walk past him while he kept tapping a beat with his fingers on his lap.

I walked to his front, overshadowed him and asked once again, "Don't they bother you?"

He looked up at me surprisingly. His auburn hair framed his face perfectly, his half-smiling lips looked thin and his pink cheeks looked more pink than usual.

"You can hear me, can't you?"

"Sure," he answered and looked away.

"Don't they bother you? Those earphones you wear all day."

"Nah."

"You don't wear them to classes though," I said, trying to keep the tone conversational. "Scared a teacher might confiscate them?"

"Nope."

His monosyllabic responses sort of pissed me off, but I didn't let it get to me. I sighed and sat beside him, looking toward where his eyes settled. He was watching a bunch of kids on the jungle gym.

"What kind of music are you listening to?"

"Pop."

I nodded and asked, "Can I listen to it?"

"No."

I looked back at him and saw how intently he stared at me. His fingers kept tapping on his lap and I could faintly hear the sounds he was hearing.

"Felix, I'm here as your friend."

He actually had to chuckle at that. Unbelievably, his voice sounded nice when he laughed a little. He could make music with it, but I quickly vanished that thought.

"Sure you are," he mockingly said. At least I got three syllables out of him this time.

"I mean it."

"You do."

"I do."

"Mm-hmm," he sort of hummed. "Should I believe you, Chase Logan? Tell me I should."

I didn't like the tone of his voice this time. It sounded like a million miles away.

"You should at least try."

He continued staring at me, studying what seemed to be in my eyes. His brows furrowed slightly and his freckled nose looked so cute as though he was beginning to pout.

"Why?" he finally asked.

"I have some playlist I'd like you to hear. My other friends don't like it, but I've got a feeling you will."

"I will?"

"You will."

He looked contemplative this time, but I could see that caution in his eyes. He was quite easy to read now that I thought of it.

"Okay, Chase Logan," he uttered. "You have an iPod or something?"

"Actually," I mumbled as I reached into my back pocket. "I have this."

His eyes widened in questioning, his brows raised and his thin lips parted slightly. He looked confused, no doubt.

"How the hell should I listen to that?"

I played with the small thing with my thumb and forefinger before explaining it to him. "It's a memory card. Micro SD..."

"Duh," he interrupted. I looked quickly back at him and saw how he regretted interrupting me.

"It has my playlist on it. I was hoping you could tell me if I have good taste or something."

"Right here? You mean now?"

I shook my head and answered, "When you get home. It's too loud here and it's sort of...a hushed melody kind of music."

"You like soft music?" he asked and giggled.

"Yeah. Any problem with that?"

He appeared to be confused still, but he shook his head and I handed him the memory card. He put it in his pocket and I finally congratulated myself for giving it to him. I longed to know what he thought of my playlist. But hell, I even congratulated myself for finally being able to talk to him.

"I should be going now," I told him as I stood up to leave. I glanced quickly toward him and saw the longing in his eyes. He did long for someone to talk to. I guess no one bothered to notice that.

"I might not like your taste in music," he said, kind of sadly. "We may have different tastes."

"Doesn't matter," I reassured. "I just want to hear your opinion is all. Will you listen to it tonight and tell me what you think tomorrow?"

"We don't have school tomorrow," he stated. "Saturday."

"We live on the same street, Felix. You're not that hard to find."

He nodded and smiled slightly, urging one from me as well.

"Tomorrow then," I said.

"Yeah, okay."

Like how any song can skip time, my own Friday night fast-forwarded to the next day. I'd hope Felix listened to my playlist last night and all that my mind could think of was him liking it or somehow...wanting to hear more of my choice of songs.

I woke up earlier than usual, much like any other person who couldn't sleep at night while thinking of all possible ways something could go wrong. What if he didn't like my music? What if he was right all along? We may have different tastes, different genres and share nothing at all in common.

All those thoughts didn't matter though as I stood at their doorstep waiting for him to let me in.

"He's not here right now," his mom told me, blocking my way inside.

"At this early?" I said loudly. Frankly, it was still 8:00am, too early for anyone to be up by my own standards. "I mean, where did he go to?"

"He left before breakfast, dear. He didn't tell me where he's off to, but he did leave this behind for you."

At that instant, Mrs Corbel took out a piece of folded paper from her pocket and handed it to me. It was neatly folded and just about the size of own hand.

"What's this?" I asked.

"I don't know, dear. He said I couldn't take a peek and just wanted me to give it to you."

I shrugged and unfolded the paper. Inside it was the memory card I gave him yesterday. Written on the paper was his answer or opinion of my playlist.

"Thanks Mrs Corbel."

"You're welcome, Chase," she said. "Tell me. Are there some kids bothering Felix at school? He doesn't tell us, but we don't see him with any of his friends and he's usually really quiet about things."

"No, ma'am," I answered. "He's just very shy at school, but he has lots of friends there. I'm one of them."

She smiled at me, those thin lips of hers were so much like Felix's.

I left their house and headed home without reading what Felix wrote in that paper. Somehow, I didn't want to know what he thought of my playlist. And lying to his mom made me suffer a whole tonne of guilt. I wasn't one of Felix's friends. No one was, as far as I could remember.

However, there always comes a time when curiosity overruled anxiety. Back in my bedroom, I unfolded the paper once more and read what Felix had written. There were three lines, carefully handwritten and straight to the point.

Chase Logan,
You have terrible taste.
sgd. Felix Corbel