Call It What You Want (BounPrem-Reimagined)

vii

I stared at Prem while he ate his breakfast contently - nothing weird about that, just observing. The kid is enticing, I'll give you that. I mean if you think about it plainly, there's nothing really exciting about a person quietly sitting there, eating their breakfast; but with this kid, it's just.. interesting. May it be the little movements or the mannerisms or because of the fact that he has so much untold stories kept under his sleeves and me, dying to hear them one by one. Is that weird? I don't think so.

"So, um, Prem." I spoke, sipping my coffee. "Where are you from?"

"I'm actually from Chiang Mai." He looked up to me through his thick eyelashes. "Just moved in here for about.. 4, 5 years?" He shrugged, eating a spoonful of his chosen cereal.

"Oh? What about your parents?"

He looked up to my direction with those enticing eyes of his, chewing a little before swallowing his food completely. "Gone." He said simply, making me look at him with so much curiosity now. "They died, for whatever reason. I'm not totally sure." He shrugged.

"Huh. Siblings? Aunts and uncles? Grandparents?"

He thought for it for a moment, his eyes going anywhere beside me as he looked like he was genuinely thinking about it, raking his brain for the answer. "As far as I know, I'm an only child.. As for the extended family, well, all I remember was that my parents were never really in good terms with their brothers and sisters and the grandparents so.." He said, adding on a shrug and a small smile, as if what he said isn't the most tragic thing that one could ever go through and deal with. I can't imagine myself living a life in conflict with my brother and parents. Sure, they could be way up in my ass most of the time but I can't throw away the fact that I am not myself if it weren't for them.

"That's.. That's sad." I commented, looking at the kid in front of me who actually looks fine and calm.

"Mm, not really. Not anymore, at least. It's just a fact now and it doesn't really affect me or something." He shrugged again. Seriously, what is it with him and the entire nonchalant aura. It doesn't seem faked, it doesn't seem forced - it looks real and genuine. If I were in his position, I'd be balling my eyes off. I'd be spending everyday with a pity party. But Prem - he's got a very free and go-with-the-flow kind of soul, it seems.

I nodded again, not really knowing what else to say. What is there to say to a kid who basically has no family, really? 'I'm sorry for your lost?' 'I feel bad for you?' 'You must've been devastated?' - I honestly think that those statements could make the person's feelings at an all-time low.

"How about you? What's your story, Mister Boun Noppanut?" He asked, a playful smile now dancing across his face, his eyes looking up to my direction, seeing as we are seated across from each other, the clean kitchen counter used as our breakfast table as of the moment.

"There's no story to tell, really." I told him honestly, re-adjusting my glasses.

"Isn't that sadder?" He asked all of a sudden, his fork slightly playing with the small amount of scrambled eggs left on the plate between us. He shrugged before saying, "Sadder than not having a family, I mean."

"How could not having a story be sad?" I chuckled, suddenly feeling nervous under the teenager's playful glare, him propping his elbow on the counter, his chin now resting on his palm.

"How could it be not sadder?" Again, I just stared back at him, shrugging my shoulders. "Think about it this way; you are a teacher with maybe around twenty to twenty-five students, all of which excited to enter your classroom early in the morning, all of them ready for whatever it is that you've got in-stored for the day. As they sit in front of you, all ears now ready for what you've got to say, all you could do is stare back at them because you've got nothing to tell. What's the point of being a teacher, then?" The boy in front of me - the eighteen year old boy - asked me without even pausing for a breath.

"If I were a teacher, I would of course teach them the things that they needed to know - shit from their text books. I don't see the problem in that." Or maybe I just don't get it. I don't get it and I feel awfully dumb. Maybe.

"That is the problem in that." He chuckled lightly. "You can't just live your life by the books. You have to do something for you to be able to tell your story. You can't just continue on telling a story that you just read from another person's perspective; you can't keep on repeating the same story that another person narrated before- you have to create your own story." Prem raised his eyebrows as I stared at him in pure awe and shock. "Anyways, is it okay if I use the shower?" He asked, standing up, grabbing his plate with him and washing it gracefully. And you know what I did as he did that one simple task? I watched him. I watched him even though his back is turned to me. Why? I was enticed. Too damn enticed and intrigued and enlightened.

"Did you just gave me a lecture about life?" I asked as I mimicked his actions, not really in the mood to finish the remainder of my food now.

Prem turned from beside me, looking at me with that same small smile, the one that I honestly am getting used to in a span of two to three days. "I may have opened up a part of your mind. Maybe." He cheekily said as his index finger drew a shape at my temple, making me flinch slightly at his cold touch; cold and warm and comforting all at once.