𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒

Fool

The long weekend rolled by with nothing major of note.

You were still borderline sick so you stayed in bed, playing games on your phone or handheld console. Your mother and older sister would bring food to your room then gossip amongst themselves outside your door. This would always summon you out of the covers, make you slither across your room and hover against the doorknob to listen to as many of the stories within earshot. The biggest scoop was your sister's co-worker cheating on their much older boss, when they were already having an affair with each other, and they each ended up re-cheating with the same person. What would you call that abomination? Cheating squared? Cheating 2πr?? You would have to ask Mrs Pickle.

Friday's chicken and chips gave Oscar and Terrence food poisoning, so they were temporarily Out of Order. Served them right. Karma was your bitch on alternate days and Friday was one of those days. Every other day, you were her bitch. Charlie was immune to all diseases so he was physically fine, but he rated the food 4 out of 10 stars, which hurt because it meant your money went to waste. Maybe you should steal- no, borrow some from Charlie as well. Oscar had to show you how he did it.

On Sunday, Principal Naver sent out an email to the whole student body and all Lapis staff. He apologised for his sudden absence, wished everyone a good long weekend, announced that he will be back on Tuesday, and mourned the death of the locum English teacher Dr Antony Savant.

Except he was not dead.

Bandages wrapped around his head, he was at home watching black-and-white movies while sipping cocoa and petting his fuzzy black cat named Barry. Occasionally, he sat on his front porch to paint pretty landscapes and flower vases. One time he drank his paint water instead of his tea, which almost made you spit out your own drink and almost burst in laughter.

How did you know all this?

Turns out, Savant lived down the road, having moved in recently. You hardly cared about your neighbours so you never kept up with who moved in/out and neighbourhood gossip. But after spotting Savant through his window on the walk home last Friday, you had to chat up all the retired elderly, homebodies and socialites in your area.

Apparently, Dr Savant was a genius. He skipped numerous year levels, entered university at the age of 13, and started his PhD in Literature at the age of 15. At the same time, he won multiple music awards for violin performances, art awards with his paintings displayed in galleries, had given two Ted Talks, and presented at international conferences. He was currently 18 years old. The same age as you, yet he had already accomplished so much.

That was an understatement, but you had to keep it that way to protect your ego. Processing the full extent of his achievements, while remembering his many other feats, would send you over the edge.

When you were bored of your games and being in bed, you sneaked out to keep an eye on him. There was a fantastic bush across the road from his house which had the perfect coverage for someone your size and had the perfect view of his house. If it was daytime or if he kept the lights on, you could see the inside of his house too. When he would be too absorbed in a task (such as watching movies, where he would pause every 30 minutes to ramble to Barry about underlying themes and character arcs, or cooking), you would gather the courage to scurry to a bush near his front-yard that provided an even better view of him and his premises.

It was on Monday when you were met with a sight that stole your breath away.

Savant was sitting outside, nursing a warm cup of tea in his hands. After downing the last sip, he set the cup on a small table, beside his glasses. His fingers intertwined on his lap as he sat with his head tilted back and eyes closed, basking in the winter sun. His brown skin glimmered under the morning rays, bounced off his dark lashes and cupid's bow, imbued his black hair with golden highlights that tousled gently in the breeze. His lips parted a fraction as his chest rose with soft breaths, growing slower and heavier with each minute. The small crease between his brows relaxed as he fell into a deep sleep.