Gulf felt like crying at his current predicament. He is staring at the score sheet he is holding, as if something interesting was written there. But he knows that nothing is more interesting than a heavy meal and a good sleep at this moment. But he couldn't have either of those right now.
Gulf is a full-fledged member of their University's famous chorale. Ever since he stepped into this school, it has been one of his life goal-to be a member of the said club. Now, in his 3rd year in Industrial Psychology and a member of the club for 3 years, Gulf is fully enjoying and having the best time of his life. But with his situation right now, he's having some second thoughts.
Am I really enjoying it right now? I highly doubt so.
He was woken up at 6 in the morning by their choir adviser for some rushed announcement. Something like, big shots coming to their school for the annual Student's Art Expo. They had to do an opening act for the event.
And as the one who was entrusted of the well-being of his fellow choir members and the inside works of their organization—in short being the leader of the group, he was tasked to hold a last minute practice and a quick runs of the song they're gonna sing.
And that's were the problem comes in.
He had to make several calls to his PR officers of every department to inform them of the upcoming event and he only got a little bit of time to do that because the event will take at 2 in the afternoon.
Thank God that his officers were quick and very efficient, so after he made calls, and spread the announcement, he literally run to the bathroom of his rented apartment to take a quick shower then rushed to the university, breakfast forgotten.
And now, here he is. Drilling the lyrics of the song they're gonna perform into his messed up brain. He's hungry. And sleepy. And nothing is going inside his head. And it is making him more irritated.
He should be in his bed right now, just sleeping his day away because he has no class today. But instead, he is here. Sitting in the corner of their Multimedia Hall, feeling miserable.
But what can he do? It's not like he can be excused and not involve himself in this event. He was trusted to handle his team and Gulf is still in his right mind to do what he was tasked to do. He was not ready to disappoint their adviser any time soon.
Still trying his best to ignore the hunger, sleepiness and headache all at once, he practiced their song once again. He tried to ignore the buzz of voices produced by his choir mate who also have their own universe.
He was then approached by his buddy, Mild.
"Hey, bud. You okay there?" his friend queried, genuine concern showing on his face.
"Yeah. Just hungry. And sleepy. I had to wake up early for this. It's physically draining."
"Typical you. Just don't beat yourself too much okay? Ah. I had this sandwich that I bought at the canteen earlier. You can have it." then shoved unto him, a sandwich he thought was the most delectable food he had ever seen in his whole existence (he was super hungry, so he was a bit over at the edge. But he still think Pad Ka Prao is the best), wrapped in a tissue paper. He thanked Mild and immediately gobbled up the food. Drank some water in the jug he brought then went back to practicing again. Mild just let him be.
A minute or two after, he wasn't sure, Gulf was called out by their adviser. Letting out a heavy sigh, he left his score sheet on the bench where he sat at and walked towards him. Mild already left a moment ago and now mingling with the others.
Not knowing that his phone has slipped out from his side pocket, as he was standing up, and fell just near the bench. He was too preoccupied to notice the emptiness of his pocket.
