I rush back to the student council room and find the bento box I have prepared for this morning. I have been doing this for a while since my stay in Singapore. Everyone buys in the cafeteria or the nearest fast food stall, but I like mine homemade. If worse comes to shove, I purchase one in a Japanese-like store to feel my country rushing through my veins.
I usually prepare my Japanese meal to preserve my culture, and that gathers attention from my peers. My father always says that other dishes taste like crap, and he is not wrong. I have tried eating burgers and whatnot, usual Western-style meals,
Everyone in my class would scream, "wow, what is inside that lunch box, anyway?"
I would just shrug my shoulders and answer "Japanese," to them.
A bento box is a single-portion takeout or home-packed meal in Japanese. My box contains traditional food like rice and fish meat, the way I like the most! I prefer adding some salmon to my dish and vegetables inside and mix with those flavours on my tongue. Others want noodles and pork in their meal, but we leave that for their preferences.
We all have our likes and dislikes, so do not be picky about it!
As I head over to the same hall to the student council room, I accidentally bump my head into someone. I might have also pushed him or her to the floor without looking.
My body collides into something tall and wide. It even feels bony when I think about the experience, but I could not get a glimpse in front of me. Some parts also have muscles on them when my hands touch the peculiar skin. At first, I thought I might have hit a wall, but I can feel something slamming against my face.
If I have to guess it right, it may be his chest that I have run into, but I am unsure.
"A wall does not have bumpy layers?" I think to myself, and brace my body, descending to the ground.
My eyes finally open and gawk at the recognisable face of a young man wearing the same uniform as me. He has jet-black hair and slanting eyes, glaring at my falling figure but not squinting. The bloke raises his eyebrows, unsure if he wants to help me or not.
I do not need your help, mister! I can stand on my feet.
"Among the worst possible people, I crashed against the Korean guy!" Another thought pops inside my head.
The Korean man is none other than Nickson. He is the vice-president of the student council, who is also on his way to the room. You know how pissed off his face looks? Nickson is like a man who has woken up from his alarm clock.
"Do you need some help?" Nickson finally asks, but I decline his help.
I bend my knees and answer, "I am fine. Sorry for crashing into you."
I lower my head and express my gratitude to the vice-president. Nickson bows his head in return to be polite in front of me. We raise our heads and exchange looks at each other.
But I break the awkwardness and continue on my way.
"The council room is this way," Nickson corrects me and points his forefinger at the parallel side of the hall.
I gyrate my body and reply, "I know. I am just testing you."
A faint laugh escapes my mouth as I move forward to the bustling hall full of students and professors exiting the classrooms. I do not want to look behind me. I can feel Nickson staring at me from afar.
I arrive inside the council room and slam the door behind me. I left the door unlocked, so that man can still open the damned gate. My bottom perches on my chair and slides the drawer open, revealing the black bento box.
The faint smell of tangi fish flutters in the air, pairing with the steam coming out from my container. Despite the chilly breeze blowing from the air conditioner, my bento warms my food throughout the day.
I also have my Barley tea with me. It is a roasted grain-based infusion made from barley. It has a toasty, slightly bitter flavour that stays on the tongue forever. I might exaggerate things, but I hold my ground true.
I always eat my food fast inside the council room. But if someone is staying here, I go to the cafeteria and finish my meal. I become afraid every time someone is near me, smelling the fishy smell of my meal.
Two people come into my mind who eat inside this room. Roxanne and Yuki usually eat here, but other times, they go to the roof or near the entrance and eat their fill. I always see them passing by, but I never get the chance to greet them.
Now that I have remembered, I have not interacted with anyone from the council. All of us always do our jobs and go home without uttering a word. This event happens especially with Roxanne, Yuki, and Nickson, as if they are busy with something apart from the school.
Roxanne is still outside, roaming around and finding the professors to sign the papers. Yuki has already finished her work, so she goes out to do something. Yui, the shy girl, is also out of the room.
Nickson is behind me, opening the doors. I could hear the wooden platforms creaking from the push.
"Hmm," The Korean man gives me a hum as soon as he sees me.
I do not know how to react, so I hum too by accident. Nickson nods his head and walks to his desk, checking the papers once again. I carry my lunch box with me and creep to the entrance, not wanting any more of his unusual responses.
I slowly close the door behind me, but stop midway to see Nickson. While scrutinising the papers, he gets his bento from the drawer and opens it. He clasps his hands, picks up his chopsticks, and eats the meal.
Nickson's eyes tell me he has been doing this for years. He is comfortable eating alone, but his eyes beg to differ. I can see his orbs looking down at the rice, emotionless like a doll. With one sad movie, Nickson might cry an ocean of tears.
I make my way back to my desk and place my bento on my table. After clasping my hands, thanking the meal, I rest the lid beside and dig in with my meat.
The mixture of Nickson's pork meat and mine combines in the air. It feels that we are in a restaurant of some sort, cooking something grand for our patrons.
Nickson snaps his head and looks in my direction like a robot would do. I jerk back, wanting to run away, defeating the purpose for keeping him company.
"Do you need anything?" I ask.
He immediately replies, "Nothing."
A minute passes by, yet he refuses to avert his gaze. If gawking melts on someone, I may be on the floor, swimming with the dirt inside the room.
"Just wondering why you stayed instead of eating in the cafeteria," Nickson adds, and finally turns away.
I grunt and say, "I can leave if you want me to."
Nickson shakes his head and stops pestering me about the topic. We continue eating our meals, striking no conversations. The two of us fill the room with crunching sounds and sticks, tapping the edge of our bento.
I do not feel the silence is uncomfortable, but we need to talk about something if we wish to form a bond. This moment is the only chance we can converse with each other.
I could start the talk, but looking at his piercing eyes, make me back out from my chair and keep quiet. If he does not want to talk, I could stay silent too.
However, that thought changes as he gawks at me and speaks out of his mind.
"How is your work going?" He asks.
It is a common way to start our talk and get my attention. I almost feel like I am inside a room with my office mate, working side by side, checking my progress. We are doing our work, but related to academics.
"I am doing fine. My thoughts tell me I just need to confirm all the newcomers wanting to join the organisations and clubs." I give him my answer while flickering through the sheets before me.
After a minute, I turn to him and ask him the same question. "How about you? How is your work doing?"
Nickson stops his chopsticks from entering his mouth and answers, "Doing a dull job, but I finished all the tasks yesterday."
I tilt my head to the side, confused about something.
I express my thoughts and ask him again, "Why are you even here if you finished wall your work?"
Using the tip of the chopsticks, Nickson pierces the pork and crushes it into pieces. He glares at the food for a moment and gives me an answer.
"I do not want my desk filled with documents and reminded about my work."