Breathe (EXO)

II: New Movers

I don't tell Jaeyi about what happened yesterday. About how Sehun and I's first conversation had taken place inside a math room with a supervisor present behind us. Things just happened so fast that I didn't have control over what was going on.

It is lunch. I am sitting across my best friend. She is digging in from her healthy cup noodles while I have my left elbow on the table with my palm supporting my chin. I have a fork enclosed on my right hand. I got a slice of green tea cake from the dessert section in the cuisine area. I have already finished my Caesar salad after Jaeyi arrived at our table with a cup of chicken noodles and a bottle of cold water. Our school has a separate line where they sell cup noodles since it is the best seller. The line there is always so long, too time consuming.

The table we are at is only three tables away from the six boys: Kyungsoo and his five other friends. I notice that Kyungsoo seems like a different person when he's placed beside his friends. When he's just with me, he's like a regular teenage boy. Not that he is not normal when he's with his friends. He just seems like a different person. Someone I am unfamiliar with.

"The line was so long. I swear, someone needs to make another line for those cup noddles."

"That's why you don't get noodles. The meals in the cuisine area are even better." I chide.

Jaeyi rolls her eyes. "And I suppose green tea cakes are healthy?"

"Hey, at least I didn't wait in a lengthy line for this."

"Point taken."

In just minutes, my best friend finishes her noodles. Now she's sipping the soup, leaving nothing behind. Jaeyi burps aloud and I glare at her. "What?" she giggles. I just shake my head and proceed with my cake and I let her talk all she wants. She tells me a story about how this one girl behind the line earlier tried to surpass her but she was not successful enough to do so. She continues to bring up random subjects until it was about me. "You know, you say that you don't really like him at all that much but you're acting like you really do. You might not realize it now because you think that you have to get to know him first, but trust me. You don't always have to get to know the guy just to prove that you have feelings for him. Special feelings."

We take our trays and dispose everything but the tray itself into the black bin. Reflecting on her words of wisdom, I can't seem to agree. She must've gotten that quote from a movie.

When I first thought of it, I thought it can't possibly be love at first sight. It just can't. I don't believe in it. Doesn't it just mean that you're in love the person's face and not for who he really is? I'm those girls that has never had a boyfriend. Never. Not once. It's not because I have strict parents because I don't. I have cool/embarrassing parents. They are never strict with me. Ever since I started high school, both of my parents has been encouraging me to meet new people, go to parties, enjoy my youth. One problem: I'm not like them. I don't enjoy crowded places, nor the smell of stinky teenagers. There's always that one kid in the party that smells like shit. Sorry for cursing.

"How was school today?" my mom asks. I take off my black leather high tops and slip in my turquoise slippers. The ones that are meant to be used inside of homes.

Frankly, I answer. "Good." I walk over the kitchen and give her a peck on the cheek.

- The Following Day -

It is bright and early, although the sky is dark. I am on my way to the ice cream truck, but something has caught my eye. On the other side of the road, an enormous truck is present outside someone's home. A moving truck. The truck is backing up, parking to someone's driveway. My eyes veer to their lawn and in the dark, I adjust my vision to the slight darkness, reading the sign that says 'SOLD' put up on the grass. Next to the truck, a van parked outside the garage door with its trunk open filled with boxes ontop of boxes. New movers. There is a tall figure standing in front of the garage wearing a grey hoodie with a hood on. His top matched his jogging pants, both grey in colour. As I saunter to the ice cream truck, my eyes stray to this preoccupied house. I watch as the boy pick out a large, hefty-looking box from the van, seemingly struggling from the weight of it. I almost gasp aloud when the box slip from his grip, dropping it clumsily to the asphalt. Stuff rain down the ground all at once and all the person can do is scratch his head.