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? ]
——————————————————
"Hey, can you get my pen real quick? It's below your chair."
My seatmate tapped me on the shoulder, her eyes pleading as she asked me to get it for her.
I nodded and bent down to pick it up.
"Thanks."
She casually retrieved it from my hand, already turning back to her notebook.
I thought this was the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation—before the moment slipped away.
"So, uh… do you remember what day it is today?"
I said it lightly, feigning confusion.
"What about it? It's March 2…"
Her tone was casual, like she assumed I'd simply forgotten—yet it didn't completely rule out the possibility that today meant something more.
I didn't answer right away. My gaze lingered on her, hinting she'd have to figure it out herself.
"Give me a hint."
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I couldn't possibly tell her it was my birthday—I wanted her to remember on her own.
Or maybe I just wanted it to matter.
Although our "friendship" mostly existed because we were seatmates, it wasn't like there were many other options. School had only started a month ago.
She had classmates from last year, but I barely saw her interact with them now. Maybe they weren't that close—or maybe she just didn't care enough to try.
Either way, it made me wonder if she was lonelier than she let on.
Or maybe I was projecting, comparing her to a certain someone I'd seen interact with people.
I shook my head.
"…It's someone's birthday today, isn't it? That certain someone probably sits right next to me."
How did she figure that out? It wasn't obvious… was it?
"Really? You think so?"
My head tilted slightly.
"…"
"You really can't be fooled—yet—"
I dragged my chair away from her, the legs scraping softly against the floor.
"You have no seatmate. How is it someone's birthday?"
"…"
She raised her hand and gave me the middle finger, completely unapologetic.
"Hey! You can't do that on my birthday."
I lowered my voice when I mentioned my birthday, careful not to alert the class and trigger that song.
"…You just said I had no seatmate, so whose day is it exactly?"
"…"
I sighed and quietly pulled my chair back beside hers, defeated—but smiling despite myself.
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