Aaron Miles stands frozen under the green-tinged trees' halcyon atmosphere, the fragrant summer breeze, and the afternoon sun's pinching heat. In front of him, a seventeen-year-old Jude Elaine stands, smiling. In her face is her innocent figure's bliss, her cheeks shaping the small funnel-like dimples Aaron always dreamt of touching.
"So, what will be your answer?"
The fine young woman asks him as she slightly tilts her head to the left. Aaron clicks his hands apprehensively as his palms fill with nervous sweat. His eyes can't seem to direct their focus on the very person in front of him. He is too much of a coward to look directly into her eyes, scared that he'd be petrified to meet her pupils.
"What was that again?" He shuddered, chuckling in a skittish manner.
"Again, I ask you." She pauses as she locks her eyes with his, closing the gap within their faces. "Would you like to be my boyfriend?" She repeats, over-enunciating each syllable.
"Uhmm- I'm not even sure if you know me." He trembles, letting out an awkward smile, re-orienting his ball-shaped glasses.
"Sure, I do."
"How s-so?"
Looking down at his soft, milk-textured hands, she grasps them deliberately, massaging them carefully. This ticks him off-guard. His hands tremble even more so. She snickers at his reaction.
"Aren't you a nervous body?" She smirks as she leered at the poor boy's face.
"I'm j-just not really used to g-girls touching m-my hands."
"Well, you can practice with me."
"I'm n-not sure if I can-"
His cute little monologue was halted as Jude Elaine leans forward, tips her toes, giving him a sweet, quick smooch. His eyes widen in astonishment as he holds his breath. Slowly, the world starts to rotate around him. He glances at the ambiance, seeing clusters of people gasping at the otherwise romantic scene. Some people look at them keenly, some disgruntled, a small fraction chuckles while the rest just snickers and snobs.
Aaron recalls the bittersweet memories of his childhood, the smiling, the running, the anxiety attacks. He remembers the moments of him gasping for air, feeling numb, overwhelmed, and passing out.
He reminiscences the memories as if they are happening- and they are. After Jude distanced herself from Aaron's now blue, constipated face, he gasps for air, feels numb, overwhelmed, and passes out. He falls down on the cold, lifeless surface of the cement. She gasps as she tries to sit, leveling herself with Aaron's fainted, soulless body. In an attempt to wake him up, she tries to shake his face vigorously.
"Aaron!" She calls out as she continues shaking his face. "Aaron!"
She turns her back and points at the people around the commotion, her eyebrows crumpled, and her face red of frustration.
"Can someone call the nurse?"
"Aaron!" She calls again. He fails to respond.
"Aaron!"
Aaron wakes up from reality, seeing the entire class staring at him with faces red of suppressed laughter. Instead of having a romantic 'bachelor in distress' moment, he instead is greeted by Mr. Grant's authoritarian figure, hissing in anger. Simultaneously, the entire class sits around closely watching what it seems to be Aaron making himself a model of a post-modern satirical comedy.
"What do you think are you doing, Mr. Miles?"
"I was- sleeping?" He answers erratically.
Aaron awkwardly smiles as he sees Mr. Grant's eyebrows having their own little rendezvous. He looks to his side, avoiding the angry instructor's gaze. Crap. He thinks to himself, clutching his hands timidly.
Aaron's been asleep in Mr. Grant's classes for four sessions in a row already, and it seems that the streak won't end soon if Mr. Grant doesn't do something about it. Aaron's already promised himself to not fall asleep again on philosophy class but look at how it all turned out. His eyes are full of distinctly amber-hued sleepy seeds, and the sides of his mouth abundant of white streaks of dried drool.
After a quick peculiar moment of staring, Mr. Grant drops his stern look and rolls his eyes. Aaron gives an awkward smile of embarrassment, Mr. Grant gives of the same demeanor.
"If you really like sleeping, Mr. Miles," Mr. Grant proffers as he gives off a deep sigh. "I just hope that sir Plato and sir Karl Marx visited you in your dreams today."
Aaron gives off a confused look. He absolutely has no idea what Mr. Grant is talking about, or who or what Plato and Karl Max is. In his last resort to comprehend, he raised his hand for attention. Mr. Grant looks at Aaron's sheepish face whimsically. He rolls his eyes again.
"What do you want, MR. MILES?" He extends his gesture, stressing Aaron's last name, preposterously.
"Uhmm- may I know who or what Plato and Karl Marx are for?" he implores.
"They're for your surprise quiz this afternoon." Mr. Grant dictated, leaving a look of disbelief on Aaron's half-awake face. Just as then, Mr. Grant redirects his vision from Aaron to the whole class. Clasping his hands making a snapping sound, he asserts. "Okay, class. Surprise quiz. Get a sheet of paper for me, will you?"
***
Aaron sighs as both of them walk through the school major's walkways, heading out of school. The hallway expands for about five meters wide, giving the area a minor traffic jam during the afternoon rush hour. Students from different blocks meet and crisscross through the small walkway, some running, some walking, some alone, and some in groups. Aaron sighs again, catching the attention of his long time best friend, Baron.
"What's the matter, Aaron?" Baron grimaces, looking at Aaron slouched over, facing the hallway's porcelain-white tiled floors. Typical Aaron. Baron thinks to himself.
"I failed the philosophy quiz again."
"That's because you keep reserving your little naps on Mr. Grant's philosophy class!"
"And that's because philosophy is boring," Aaron replies.
Baron's forehead furrows. He rolls his eyes on Aaron, leering at him comically.
"You know, you should take philosophy as an opportunity to learn more about yourself. A kind of mental activity that could train your cognitive resonance." Baron answers in a philosopher-esque manner.
"Whatever, Baron," Aaron rolls his eyes. Baron does the same.
"You know I do this for my dear family's honor and justice, right?" He exclaims, putting his hands on his chest, imitating the sign of patriotism. "I do this for the glory of my father's position. Whenever people know that my father's the city mayor, they always look at me with great respect. I shouldn't disappoint them- and you shouldn't either. As Aaron, the son of the governor, you should do better in your studies." Baron orates, imitating a subtle English accent.
"Sure, sure, Mr. Upright." Aaron chuckles at what he thinks to be a creative name for Baron. The latter doesn't look impressed. "You sure are a model son, aren't you? Your father must be proud of you." Aaron smirks, Baron's forehead furrows at the thought. He starts walking faster. Aaron starts picking up the phase; he realizes what he has done.
"I'm sorry," Aaron exclaims as he tries to catch up with Baron's walking. To appease Baron, he grabs his shoulders, making Baron stop and look back on Aaron.
"I'm sorry okay? That was insensitive of me."
"You need to know better."
Aaron knows what he had done to make an optimistic, model student like Baron furious. He brought up his father.
Baron's father is notorious for being a very uptight man like Baron himself. He has high dreams, high standards, high-quality work ethics, and, most significantly, high expectations within the city's interests and affairs with his sons.
Kyle, Baron's twin, is known to be our school's all-around student. Kyle was good with his studies, good at sports, good at managing their family businesses, and extremely good-looking. Once when Kyle was still studying at our school, he would often win various sports tournaments, various matheletics competitions, and most notoriously- the world stage for innovation, the international campaign for research. When Kyle was awarded during the campaign, he was allowed to continue high school on an elite high school somewhere in Europe.
Baron, who stood still in the middle of extreme peaks of excellence, was the subject of comparison and disappointment by his father. Often, Baron would try his best to compete with his brother but just couldn't. His effort, along with all the all-nighters he pulls of, is just not enough to beat his brother's raw talent.
This would come to Baron as the origins of familial pressure to exceed his brother and become the filial son. He'd often skip lunch, stay up late studying, and impairs his ability to enjoy his youth.
"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you." Aaron pleads as he grips Baron's hands.
"How?" Baron asks, unimpressed, brows knitted, and with eyes hesitating.
"I'll treat you."
"Treat me to what?"
"To burgers."
"Just burgers?" Baron raises his eyebrows.
"Burgers." Aaron pauses, pleading. "Burgers on the fields?"
Smirking, Baron nods his head. "Fine." He rolls his eyes. "I'll get some burgers in the fields."
***
"Here, hold this for a while," Baron asks as he hands out two beef cheeseburgers to Aaron, who was next in line. "It's fifty," Baron mumbles as he lays out his hands' palms, indicating that he wants Aaron to pay. "Your treat, remember?"
Aaron scoffs and picks up a bill from his pocket. "Here." He gives the money forcefully to Baron's palms.
Baron receives the bill and mouths "Thank you" to Aaron. Handing the bill to the cashier, he swerves to Aaron's direction. "You're next in line." Aaron looks at Baron, confused.
"We already have two cheeseburgers. Aren't those enough?"
"These are only for me."
"But these burgers are jumbo-sized."
"I'm sorry, I'm on a diet. I can only eat two for now," Baron smirks, satirizing Aaron.
Aaron sighs and leers at Baron. "Gosh, why do you have to always abuse your negotiating power with me? Do you even consider me as your friend?"
Baron titters, sneering at Aaron. "I am a politician's son, after all. I learned from the best." He smiles smugly, making a clicking sound.
***