Reaching our class, we parted to our seats.
She walked towards the back of the room, slipping into her usual chair while I took my seat at the front.
She was surrounded by her group of friends within seconds, her carefree laughter blending effortlessly with theirs.
"..."
It was always like this.
Her cold, detached personality didn't push people away... it pulled them in—even when I knew it didn't felt right.
They admired it.
The way she effortlessly carried herself, the way she didn't seem to care too much.
It all felt intoxicating—like standing near someone who wouldn't flinch if the world collapsed. Someone who wouldn't hide behind someone's back just because they couldn't utter a word. Someone you could rely on—and who would never ask you to carry them back.
Though I'd like to remind myself that these are just based on my perception—and perceptions have a habit of lying.
The school bell rang, jolting me away from my thoughts.
It meant class was about to start, the confines of small enjoyment beginning to end.
[ A Few Minutes Passed ]
Not a single teacher came.
"...They're probably running late or just didn't bother."
"I hope it's the former..." I muttered, unsure why this lie feels comforting.
I searched around me and landed on my seatmate. She was quiet, occasionally tapping her pen on the desk.
I wanted to initiate a conversation but refrained—afraid that even silence would feel louder if I interrupted it.
Not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't muster up the courage. It looked like she was lost in her own thoughts and I didn't want to be a bother.
There wasn't much to do anyway but scribble on my notebook. When I pulled it out, tons of random doodles appeared before me.
Judging by the amount of pages I had to turn before a blank page showed up, it wasn't the first time I'd done this. I was just glad I had something to spend the time on.
...I'm probably gonna talk to her later.
———————————————————
[ Flashb■cks? ]
[ That night, I dreamed. Not the usual dreams where I was chased by an entity I couldn't name, nor those dreams where it foretold the future. ]
[ It was a dream that haunted my memories and replayed them over and over again. ]
[ I wanted to tell her, my ■•■?■■ ]
[ I... wanted to tell someone. ]
[ So... I told her. I gathered every doubt I had and every trust I ever gave all to one person. ]
[ It all started with my father, whose shine in the eyes still reflected his early success. Back when he was still full of hope, not full of hunger. ]
[ How my mother's shoulders weren't hunched from exhaustion. ]
[ How for once, we had enough. ]
[ I explained to her my ?■? birthday. The cake—pink in color, stood in the middle with candles glistening with the lights. The aroma of dishes circled the cake, filling the walls of our humble abode. And when I touched my face, It wasn't wet with tears. ]
[ How my dad hoisted me up high while laughing like a maniac, and my mother's smile beamed so bright it appeared
genuine. ]
[ I squirmed in my father's hold while he lifted me up like I was his world. ]
[ And when he let me go after knowing his star wouldn't break, he picked up a fork and took a small slice of cake. His hand hovered before my mother's mouth. ]
[ My mom took his offering, his hand touching the icing left on my mother's face. The cake's sweetness carried their love at the moment. ]
[ They showed me that love was simple—something that didn't know how to leave. ]
[ I remembered how my father kissed my forehead and told me, "I wish you'll live the way you want to, not how others want it for you." ]
[ I followed what he told me by heart. ]
[ Yet I stood before broken pieces of glass, careful not to hurt myself—or maybe afraid of what I'd feel if I did. ]
[ I picked one up and held it to the light ]
[ If I told the her the next part, would she take the shard I offered—and hope she frees me from this burden I cannot leave? ]
[ That's just wishful thinking, for I knew one would not simply carry another's burden for a fragile thing called attachment. ]
[ Yet I cannot free myself. I do not know what's telling me not to, nor do I know why I'm not doing it myself. ]
[ I don't know how to say it— what they'll think of me. What they'll do. What they'll leave behind. What I'll become if I do. What I'll become if I do. What I'll become if I do. What I'll become if I do. What I'll become to them. ]
[ And when I went silent, I wondered—and feared the answer. ]
[ In my ■■?•? Life, I wonder if I did what my father told me? ]
——————————————————
I wanted to tell her about my dream.
It felt so real that I wanted to share it to someone who would understand.
But I hesitated.
For some reason, words just refused to come out my mouth.
...
Forget it. It's not like she'll believe it.
Besides— today was my birthday.
Ohh Waitttt— does she remember my birthday?
A small, ridiculous part of me hoped she did.
I wasn't sure why.
Maybe because, if she did, it meant she cared enough to hold onto something small. Something mine.
Deciding I needed to know, I asked her in a very casual tone, because that's what ■•■?■■ do.
"Brooo, remember what day today isss??
She blinked, tilting her head. "March 2… What about it?"
I felt something inside me sink.
But before it could settle -
Her eyes widened. "Oh wait— ohh flipp —HAPPY BIR —"
I clamped my hand over her mouth before she could finish.
I sighed in relief, glancing around the room.
Nobody seemed to bat an eye.
"That was so close-- bruh"
I smiled, rubbing the back of my neck.
Then, without really thinking, I asked —
"Ohh, and by the way, any plans on coming to my house to celebrate my birthday?"
My voice wavered slightly.
I hadn't meant for it to.
I didn't even know why I was hoping so badly that she'd say yes.
She blinked at me before grinning.
"Yeahh— why wouldn't I?"
She said it so easily.
Like it wasn't even a question.
Like it was obvious.
For a second, I just stared.
A laugh bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
"Yeah… why wouldn't you."
My voice was quieter this time.
Less playful.
More uncertain.
[ … ]
I glanced at her.
She didn't seem to notice the shift in my tone.
Or if she did, she pretended not to.
Her mind was already elsewhere— probably picturing the food, knowing her.
And me?
I looked at the back of the room.
I was stuck on the memory of the first and only time I'd ever invited HER.
The way she had rejected it.
So effortlessly.
So carelessly.
Like it meant nothing at all.
After that, I stopped inviting people.
Because rejection hurts.
More than people realize.
More than I knew how to handle.
And yet—
I turned to look at her again.
My seatmate, my ■•■?■■.
She had said yes.
Just like that.
.... I thought she wouldn't accept.. Just like her-
[ … ]
————————————————————
Something in me stirred.
Without thinking, I grabbed my seatmate's shoulders, shaking her lightly.
"Whaaaa— are you serious??? Whatttt —"
I wasn't even sure why I was so excited.
But she only laughed.
"So.… what time?"
"Well, don't be late! It'll start at 6:00 in the afternoon, but I'm sure it'll start an hour late due to late guests."
She raised an eyebrow. "So... 7:00 pm, then?"
I nodded aggressively.
For the first time in a long while, I felt genuinely happy.
And then—
The class representative took a seat at the front of the room, clapping their hands together.
"Alright, guys!! The subject teacher for this hour won't be coming in today, so she said we can do whatever we want until her time ends."
The classroom erupted into cheers.
A rare free period.
For most students, it was a good thing.
For me…
I wasn't so sure.
Because the silence always felt heavier for me than it did for everyone else.
[ .... ]
Since gadgets weren't allowed in our school, most students filled the time by chatting or playing whatever games they could come up with, since teachers rarely came.
I usually ended up hoping for that rare chance,
That a teacher would still show up and fill the silence.
My seatmate, though?
She thrived in it.
She could joke, play, distract herself so easily—while I sat there, struggling to fill the silence between us.
And yet, even when I tried to talk to her, our conversations never lasted long.
She'd always ind a way to cut them short, her attention drifting elsewhere.
She never really shared herself with anyone.
And as much as I wanted to open up to her, to let her in, I felt like I was the only one who cared enough to try.
So, after a while... I stopped.
—————————————————
I shook the thoughts away, forcing a grin. Maybe it was a weak attempt at masking everything, but it was something.
She caught my expression and, for a moment, gave me a small smile in return.
Because when my eyes met hers again…
Her face was the same as before. Quiet. Distant. Unreadable.
She sat by the window, sunlight casting shadows over her face.
And for a split second, I thought I saw something there.
Something distant. Something unreadable.
Something I wasn't sure I wanted to understand.
I swallowed.
Can I really trust [ Jane ]?
Can I really call her my ■•■?■■—?
Info 1:
[ ■•■?■■ – means = not sure if a friend or foe. ]