March 30th.
Before stepping out of the car into campus, Petra offered me advice, "Keeping your disguise on during your time here would be unrealistic. Thus, you will become the light that moths flock to."
"Can you think up any solutions?"
"Your bodyguard will simply have to follow you for your first week here. After the crowd's excitement has simmered down, then you'll be allowed to go alone."
I didn't like that.
...
The SUV left me quick after I stepped out with my bodyguard, who we shall call Rick.
Before stepping in, I took a moment to appreciate the view. The buildings were weathered; imperfect, perfect. There were students skateboarding, others chatting while walking, and even one in the distance just casually smoking a cigarette; imperfect, perfect.
I breathed a long inhale of fresh air, before feeling ready to put my first foot across the gate.
Thud.
"Holy shit."
I turned to the voice, and found a couple staring at me bewildered, their phones already out with the camera aimed at me.
"Is that..." The boyfriend started.
"... Ivan Lerring!" The girlfriend finished with a concerning amount of enthusiasm. She shoved the boyfriend aside and ran towards me; Rick blocked her advance, but that didn't stop her for asking, "Can I get a picture with you?!"
"Oh my god, is that Ivan Lerring?" As expected, the commotion attracted even more attention.
"Yes, it is!"
"OH MY GOD!"
"I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN! PLEASE!"
My legs trembled, practically jellified, as I watched a zombie apocalypse where I'm the only heathy brain left to feed.
I looked to Rick for help; he looked equally petrified.
Footsteps thumped an earthquake, noises rivalled a concert.
I was ready to turn tails and run, before—
"HEYYYYYY!" Someone yelled over everyone, with a commanding, deep voice.
From the crowd, emerged the owner of such a voice, and that voice halted everyone's footsteps, as all gazes turned to him instead of me.
He was a tall man with a trendy wolfcut. His oversized white t-shirt hid the shape of his body, but as a gym rat myself, I could tell he's hiding a sleeper. Dark green headphones rested around his neck, and his hands were buried in his pockets firmly.
He turned to the crowd, "Come on, guys! Are we forgetting the concept of privacy?" He scolded an entire crowd despite being a student himself. "He's famous, okay, so? So he's not a human? So he has sold his fuckin' soul to the devil to become famous? Leave him alone. Want a picture? Search his name up on Google and photoshop."
The crowd was suddenly reminded of simple human etiquettes, as they shrunk back. Some were unrelenting however, they still sneakily aimed their cameras at me from a distance, whilst poorly pretending to walk away.
"That's inevitable." The tall man walked towards me, pointing at those sneaky photographers, "You'll just have to wait until they get bored of this."
"That's fine." I responded, "Thank you, truly."
"Nah, dude. Don't sweat it. Is that your bodyguard?" He pointed at Rick, who was staring intensely back.
"Yeah, forgive his glare."
"All good. University students' kryptonite is shame. Remember that, Mr. Bodyguard, call them out, film them, threaten to defame them. Trust me, defamation hurts more than a nuke at our age."
His treatment of me was as if I was just another guy. He would be helpful to me when navigating the university life.
"Can I ask for your name?"
"Ken Chow." He extended for a handshake.
Rick wanted to step between us, but I waved him off, then accepted the handshake. "Ivan Lerring."
"You need no introduction, dude. What made you choose here? I've read about you, and I don't think even MIT would turn you down."
"I like here. I don't like there."
Ken retracted his hand and returned it right back to the pockets of his ripped jeans. "Cool... Where you headed?"
"Lecture on taxation."
He raised a brow.
...
Apparently he was also headed for the same lecture; it seems like I have found my first friend, right? Can I call him a friend? Can I call you a friend?
Thank you, friend.
We sat at the front row, Rick waited outside the lecture hall, waving away the nosy, tenacious fans.
"Yo what's up." Ken was clearly popular, he dapped three other guys up at the front row before sitting.
"Bro, aren't you that model in every goddamn clothing store?" One of the three noticed me. Actually, they all did, but only one spoke up about it.
"Yeah, he is." Ken explained for me, "Ivan Lerring, came here to study taxes, apparently." Then he turned to me to introduce his friends, "Ivan, this here's Danish, Ryan and 俊皓 (Jùn Hào)."
Danish and Ryan waved at me, while Jun Hao was shaking his head slowly with his jaw dropped, "I envy you so bad..." He said, then massaged his own jaw, "... Chiselled."
I didn't mind that too much, at least it's not harassment.
"Nice to meet you." Ryan gave me a thumbs up, Danish followed suit with a "Same."
"Bro, you're employed, what are you doing here, homie?" Jun Hao asked with a wry but curious smirk.
"It's... not all that great, living my life, I just wish to experience being... normal, I guess?"
"Ouch." Jun Hao's hands moved as if stabbing himself in the chest, "A stab in the heart, man..." I can see that.
"Uh... W-why?" I didn't understand his reaction.
"You're calling him normal. Normal isn't a complement to him." Gloomy Ryan explained with a tone more monotonous than Petra.
"People don't like normal." Ken elaborated, "Maybe you do, but, everyone is different with different beliefs. And everything you believe is right as long as you believe in it, dude. So don't worry, he's just exaggerating."
"Yeah, don't sweat it, I'm a bit dramatic." Jun Hao explained.I chuckled lightly, "Ahh... I see."
"Okay... let's start today's lecture..." The lecturer started with the most lethargic voice I've ever heard.
We may have been in the first row, but none of us was paying attention to the lecture.
Jun Hao was gaming; Ryan was scrolling social media, with Danish peeking at his screen. Only Ken was somewhat focused, with his eyes on the lecturer and his chin propped in his palm.
Me on the other hand, I felt uncomfortable, I can feel eyes behind me at all times.
I'd turn subtly to get a peek behind: as I would expect, almost everyone else in the lecture hall was chattering with one or two fingers pointed at me.
If normal isn't good, is this excessive amount of attention supposed to be?
...
Fifteen minutes into the lecture, Ken's eyelids were already drooping. I only came here to connect myself with people, not for the syllabus, but I still regret choosing finance.
To highlight how boring the lecture was, the door creaking open was more interesting that the entire lecture hall turned to look, including me.
"Miss Mok. I'm certain I've only had three lectures with you so far and you've been late to every one of them."
"Still better than Sue Storm over here, no?"
I thought it was funny, but the lack of laughter in the hall suppressed my own.
Miss Mok was a Chinese student with a face that told "I'm so done with life..."
She gave barely any care to her long raven hair, but they nonetheless shone lustrously and effortlessly.
I paid extra attention to her, because she's the first student that paid no attention to me.
I saw it, her eyes. It swept past me like I was just another face in the crowd.
I think she might be another potential friend.
Before I could even turn my head back to the lecturer, the door thudded open, less gently this time.
"Challenging Miss Mok in how late one can get to class?"
"Better than challenging Miles Morales."
"Pahhahahahahahaha..."
The laughter wasn't loud, as it was just Miss Mok and I. The newly arrived student with hair dyed partially pink scanned the crowd with her gaze, which eventually landed on me.
Her eyes widened for a second, paired with a smirk, but she didn't approach me; she went to sit with Miss Mok.
See that? That reaction. It's uncomfortable. That reaction made me feel like I don't belong, like I'm the sore thumb sticking out. Maybe I am one, but I don't like constant reminders.
Miss Mok was the only one whose eyes never reminded me of how different I am.
"Hey." I woke Ken.
"Yeah?"
"Do you know who the lecturer called Miss Mok? The girl sitting in the back."
Ken rubbed his groggy eyes open, while grinning, he assumed, "Crushing on someone already? This early?"
"No, I just... I just find her interesting."
"I only know her full name's Angela Mok Fay, and that she's in the Writing Club like me. Not much else, sorry."
"That's fine, I'll just join that club."
"Goddamn." Jun Hao chimed in with only his voice, his gaze and fingers remained on his fps mobile game, "Usually I'd say something like 'good luck, bro.' but in this case I would say 'damn, Angela's a lucky gal.'"
I must've instinctively grimaced, but then Ryan spoke, "I think it has been indirectly established that Ivan doesn't wish to be treated differently. What you've just done might've hurt his feelings."
"Yeah, what he said." Danish reinforced.
"Ah, right. Sorry, man." Jun Hao actually looked away from his game briefly for that apology.
"I don't like her, it's not like that." I waved the suspicions off, "She just didn't seem to recognise me... I'd like to make friends with people like that."
"Ah, I understand now, dude." Ken slapped my shoulders. That felt weird, but I guess it's what friends do.
Ken continued, "That's how you would feel the most normal, wouldn't you? If the people talking to you knows you as a stranger."
I nodded quickly, "Exactly."
He slapped my shoulder lightly again, "I feel you, dude."