08 : Strange
JULIAN
Time check: 11:47 a.m. Monday.
I always chose the farthest corner of the cafeteria—a quiet refuge away from the buzz of clinking trays and laughter. This spot, isolated and often overlooked, had become my sanctuary.
Dito, ang boses ng iba't ibang usapan ay parang malalaking alon na humahampas sa malayo, unti-unting humuhupa hanggang maging banayad na bulong. It was the kind of peace I needed, a space where I could lose myself in the pages of my book without interruption.
But today, the calm didn't last.
Damien's arrival was abrupt, like an unexpected gust of wind. His tray landed on the table with a sharp clatter, the sound reverberating in the stillness I had carefully curated. Without a word, he slid into the seat across from me, moving with the confidence of someone who belonged anywhere and everywhere.
I froze for a moment, my eyes flicking from the open pages of my book to his face. He was unbothered, casually unwrapping his sandwich as if it was the most natural thing to join me here.
Sa dami ng pwedeng upuan, bakit dito pa?
"It's quieter here," he said simply, almost like an afterthought, before taking a bite.
Quieter? Not anymore.
I returned my gaze to the book, willing myself to focus. But his presence was like a rock tossed into a still pond—impossible to ignore. Naroon siya, filling the space effortlessly, the sound of his chewing louder than it had any right to be.
Minutes stretched, though I wasn't sure if they felt longer because of his presence or my growing irritation. I tried to keep reading, eyes skimming over the words, but their meaning blurred, overtaken by the weight of his presence. Damien wasn't doing anything particularly disruptive, but that was the problem. He existed too boldly, too naturally, for my peace to remain intact.
I let out a quiet sigh, lowering my book. Pinanood ko siya habang kumakain. There was a certain ease in the way he moved, the way his chair creaked softly as he leaned back, like he belonged here more than I did.
"Seryoso?" I muttered under my breath.
Damien glanced up, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. As if sensing my disapproval, he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. The subtle curve of his lips hinted at a smirk.
"You know," he began, his voice carrying a playful lilt, "you're more approachable than you think."
I gave him a blank stare, silently willing him to leave. But of course, he didn't. Instead, he dove into a story about his brother—a bizarre tale involving ketchup and ice cream that sounded too absurd to be true. Yet the way he told it, his tone both animated and oddly sincere, drew me in despite myself.
Before I knew it, a soft laugh escaped me.
Damien froze for a second, then grinned, as if my reaction had been the goal all along.
"There it is," he said, leaning back with the kind of satisfaction that made me want to roll my eyes.
I tried to smother the amusement tugging at my lips. Focus, Julian.
... pero kahit anong pilit kong bumalik sa binabasa ko, his voice lingered in the air, breaking through the gaps in my concentration.
There was something infuriatingly magnetic about him, the way he carried himself like he was a constant part of the narrative even when he wasn't supposed to be...
