Preface

This scene is quickly getting boring. I wonder why I even go to these things anymore. It's not like I highly enjoy getting roaring drunk to subsequently end up exchanging saliva or other bodily fluids with some stranger. But here I am, once again amidst loud and content hooligans (most likely due to the confidence booster precariously dubbed alcohol). Watching their carefree expressions, I suddenly felt homesick. I used to try and drone out my parents' constant and trivial bickering, but unexpectedly, I now long for it. I wanted to feel that security again; of known places and faces and having someone always there. Here in the pounding room, I slowly realised that I couldn't adjust to the new found freedom as well as my peers have. It was only natural for them; high school was generally a phase that many teenagers go through thinking that they ought to be treated as an adult. Hence, come university and they're all likely to head their own ways, away from their restrictions - mainly in the form of parents and teachers - and do whatever they wanted. I somehow diverged from that idea. My parents weren't all that severely strict, but I didn't go to many parties. I didn't socialize so freely with others before. I felt like I was in the wrong class and out of place.

I was vaguely searching the crowd when I spotted someone of interest to observe. I recognised him as the quiet boy in my eight o'clock lectures. For the most part, he'd arrive around ten minutes after me and sit in the back rows. His black spectacles suited him well and he wore plain clothes.

I didn't know why he stood out to me at this particular moment, when I barely noticed him in the lectures. He was chattering about something to his companion next to him. She was blonde and smiley. The light was dim and some people were in the way but I could see that they were leaning together pretty close.

The blonde enjoyed his attention and it seemed like everything he said made her laugh or respond approvingly. I looked back to him and right then he caught my eyes. I was slightly stunned but my reaction didn't reach my face. I averted my eyes to some inanimate object across the room. I started sipping my drink, using it to hide any nervousness that maybe revealing itself on my face, as I feel his attention still on me.

Aren't you suppose to hold his gaze if you wanted his attention? Or smile at least? Not like I had any particular interest in this boy. But it wouldn't hurt. I looked back at him when I'm sure he's not looking anymore and started to wonder about all the what ifs in the world that I could possibly wonder about.