"Straight from your 1620 dream, college boy!" I spread my arms like a tour guide impressing her tourists.
Four story high building of decaying stone bricks facing one side of The Walls, Colegio is one of the oldest college in Manila and maybe that's one reason I can't easily adapt to its environment because I am one historically impaired person. The college's vicinity rundown in a square form when viewed from above. The entrance have three gates ten feet high rusting iron works painted in gray, one in front straight to the administration and lobby, the other on the right end side which was the exit and the other on the left end. The other gate at the back entrance is for high schoolers and varsity players, who they believe needed the nearest entrance to the gym which is also at the back of the school. I understand why they decided to build it outside, not to mention the gross smell it radiates every after gym class, the whole school can be contaminated. The front building is decorated with an embossed knight in silver armor and sword and is wearing a red cape and blue linings and was riding on a stallion. Pretty amazing symbol for our college.
I gave the boy back his umbrella and started walking to the entrance, tapped my I.D., let the guard check my bag and put my headset back on beating to the song of Blink 182.
Dug dug, dug dug, dug dug. That sound again.
Before I turn and get totally lost my visibility, I turn around to look at Reider and waved back. My first encounter with another human being is finally over.
I went to the Page, our mini café inside the Colegio, and bought myself a cup of coffee. I am not really a fan of coffee but this kind of weather sucks even more than drinking a pretentious steaming drink. The café is unpopulated at the moment 'cause maybe the population are debating between coming to school on a rainy season and committing to the relationship they had for their beds. If I were them, I prefer the latter. So I decided to stay a little bit in the café and sit on one couch on the left of the counter. I look over my schedule. It wasn't that bad to get home at 9pm on a Monday. I don't even want to go home early it would be too hot to go home at noon, assuming that the rain would stop later. Afternoon is when all the entire college population went for home so it would be a tragic traffic on the road till rush hour so 9pm is perfect. All will be settled in at home and the road would be deserted by the time I get on the bus.
As expected, people in college, as to my dismay, are excited to go back to school and to their bullshits. Oh yeah, if you think that all the exciting and fun stuff happens in high school, well you're wrong. What could be much fun than in a great place for freedom, no parental supervision and guidance counselling, as far as I know, and booze, smoke, drugs are all here in heaven and hell.
And so, classrooms are filling in every minute. People here are in a relative contrast. There are those who go here because they are forced to so decided to make something fun out of it like joining fraternities, getting sexually active (a little bit like high school, actually), and just enjoying the little bits of freedom. And then, there're those who are actually destined to fulfill their life long dreams to graduate and be successful, to actually have a life. They are the ones filling the classrooms right now.
I entered my fist class and find bunch of friends, the only ones that I actually care about and the only drive that keeps me going here even though it sucks.
"So, any cute freshman boys that you spied on this morning?" That's Emma the whore. I like calling her that because it fits her perfectly. White, Heeled Overly-exposed Resurrection of Eva. She's really pretty shiny black haired girl, perfect eyebrows and really smart but only cares about her nails and cute boys. She's nice though doesn't really interact with boys, just drools over them. Which is why I don't hate her, and I like her because she's smart. I can't deal with stupid people nowadays.
"Whore." I answered. I find my seat beside her and that only makes me look like a 12 years old that she's been asked to baby-sit.
"Booohoo. You're not a morning and rain person, I know. But please it is first day don't give that negative sparkling aura that I came to stumble upon everytime." She raised her perfect eyebrows and stared at me. "So? Have you spied cute guys anywhere?"
To make her stop, "Yeah." Or not.
"Really?" She's giggling, catching attention from newcomers. "What does he look like?"
"He's a freshman."
"Ew."
"I thought you like 'cute freshman boys'?"
"I just said that because they're the newcomers and I think it's just nice to hear 'cute freshman boys'"
"I can't understand the argument there."
Sam came over and sit on my right side. He is the gentleman, occasionally.
"Me too. What's he taking up?" Sam interfered.
"The conversation goes here" Emma draws an invisible line on my right squaring it in front of our faces, "and here" and draws in to her side and ending it to our back. "ONLY."
"I don't know. We got lost in to conversation that he was unable to answer it. But I asked."
"Hey no crossing over." Emma shot back. "You have to learn the word Loyalty."
Before I can start a comeback, the bell ring and the professor magically appeared at the door.
"Alright, you know the routine. Let's get to know each other. Starting from you." He pointed to Alex who is sitting in front.
The class goes on with the introduction, expectations, syllabus, grading system, what to and what not. Same as to my other classes.
I finally get to breathe when lunch came. Me, Emma and Sam are sitting on the lounge and eating not real food, ham and egg sandwich.
"What are we eating?" I asked
"Food. That's ham and egg in between two slice bread." Emma explained
"Really? I prefer rice and everything nice."
"I am so jealous because you don't get fat even if you eat like a monster,"
"Ouch."
"You know what, I kinda like to eat rice and everything nice too. Let's grab something at the canteen?" Sam asked
"That's the best idea you have so far. You could graduate with honors."
"Thanks. Come on I'm hungry."
I stood up and went to line for real food at the canteen.
I'm beating the same heartbeat that he has. I'm breathing in between his every breath. I'm shivering with every words that flows out of his mouth. I'm drowning.
He says my name like it's the only thing that binds me to the world. And then he moves his lips into mine. I'm a prey captured by its predator. I'm drowning. He stepped back, staring deep into the blacks of my eyes and I can't say anything. He loses his courage, he loses his footing. Another step back and he started to say he's sorry, so sorry. He's flustered and lost and I am lost too. He's saying that he's sorry. He keeps telling me he's so sorry. I told him he doesn't need to say sorry. Why is he even sorry? What for? I wanted to go back to me drowning. But we can't go back. With one word, the water is flushed. The drowning vanished, the only drowning feeling I wanted to have in my life, gone with a word that doesn't explain that much. Is he sorry because he kissed me? Am I not worth it? Am I not worth doing the wrong thing?
Maybe I am.
And he wanted to wash his hands.
It's not like we committed a crime. But maybe loving is the same as killing. You kill the one thing that keeps you sane. Loving is killing.
I woke up startled by a touch on my shoulder. A touch so light, it made me shiver. I lift my head up but only to get stared down by the most gorgeous black eyes I have ever seen.
Dug dug, dug dug, dug dug.
"It's the last stop." Reider point out the window. It's dark out but the moon is so full. I smiled.
"Why didn't you get off already?"
"Maybe because I wanted to do my second good deed for the day. Or I just came to stumble upon your sleeping face on the last stop of the bus. And I think you look funny and pretty." He said with a grin.
"I don't know how being funny and pretty came into one equation. What's wrong with you and the bus?" I get up, pick up my bag and get off the bus.
I can hear Reider's footsteps from behind me but I didn't dare look back or utter a word. He caught me on two embarrassing moments and I am not happy about it.
"Thanks for your warnings this morning." He said, tailing me.
"It was nothing." I answered. I turn around to face him. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere else? Why are you following me?"
"Seriously?" He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you know where I live and leading me there."
"I don't and I am not. This is my way. I don't even know you." I started walking again
"I'm sorry." I stopped when I heard those words.
Dug dug, dug dug, dug dug. A loud beat. So close I could mistake it for my heartbeat. Heartbeat?
"What did you say?" I asked
"It was nothing."
"No, I heard something." I did heard what he said.
"Nothing really. You should go home. Do you want me to take you home?"
"No. It's just, what it is that you just said?" I don't know why I'm pushing this. "Why did you say you're sorry? What for?" Déjà vu
"What's wrong?" He look so confused maybe I am mistaken.
I stared at him. Trying to figure out why I'm staring. And resolving why I'm figuring why I'm staring.
I smiled and tried to hide my confusions.
"So, how's your first day?" I tried to be bubbly and in my wild attempt to cover up my confusion I received a raised eyebrow.
"Are you really okay? Cause if not, I could take you home. It's late anyway. And you said this is your way."
I just kept on walking. I turn to the last block but I can still hear him following. Streetlights are down and the road is illuminated only by the moon's reflected light from the sun.
I reached the cul-de-sac and stop in front of the third block. I breathe out and closed my eyes. I opened them again. "This is me. Thank you. Sorry for being weird tonight."
I turn to face him. He nodded and started to walk. He turn at the end of the street and lost in my sight.
Tonight's encounter is as confusing as the Maze runner. Or maybe my writer is also confused about what she was writing. You hear me? I think your story, my story, our story is leading to nowhere. I am talking so someone writing my story, my life. I don't know why she's writing them and I am sure she doesn't understand why she's writing this either.
I could almost hear her say "You're right."
I opened my bedroom door, drop my bag and lay in bed without changing.
I wanted to write what I had dreamed about while on the bus. I wanted to write a story without the certainty of its path like my story that my writer is writing right now. And I wanted to start with that dream. That dream felt so real I think I could not wake up if Reider didn't touch me. His touch is so light it didn't seemed like he touched me at all. The same words he uttered as the ones I had in my dreams is bothering me. And the same response I gave is scaring me.