Ronnie's Songs (Completed) #Wattys2017

IV - Friends

We're not, no we're not friends, nor have we ever been.

I woke up feeling the heat of the sunlight on my cheeks. I groaned in annoyance as I turned to my right side. Tom was still there. He was sleeping in such a peaceful manner, he was facing my side, so top view we might look like we're looking at each other, although his eyes were closed. We were too close for my liking but it stayed that way for a while.

The first thing that I noticed were his long lashes, I've always envied those from him. My lashes are long, too, but his are longer than they should be. For a moment I just stared at him... until I shook my head deliberately as I felt extremely wrong feelings. I shouldn't feel butterflies. I really shouldn't.

I sighed. "I will never understand why I..." I didn't finish my sentence, instead, I ogled at him a bit more, memorising his facial features (as if I'd forget it) then I sat up, wore my slippers and went straight into the small kitchen in my dormitory room.

My dormitory's rather large for just one person, actually. It has no room, though there's a bookshelf that serves as a divider for the main areas of the place, that is, the bed and the living area. It's a big studio type room with a small kitchen by the corner and a bathroom. It sort of looks more like a flat than a dormitory. My mum made sure I get the largest room in the building and she paid twice of my supposed dormitory fees every month because she didn't want me to have a roommate, which was due to "in case I get ideas". Her words, not mine. Every room was supposed to have two boarders and the landlord doesn't mind opposite sexes sharing a room as long as they pay. So, yeah, I could understand Mum's precautions but perhaps she doesn't really know me that well to think of me making such "ideas" that has never ever crossed my mind.

The scratching of my slippers onto the hardwood floor made me turn in adrenaline to the idiot in my bed. Tom is a light-sleeper, or at least that's what I recalled, and I really didn't want to wake him up. I did everything in stealth mode, sort of like a ninja. I brushed my teeth, picked up the food leftover of Chris last night and the tissues that scattered from the pile of rubbish that's overflowed the trash bin, and cooked breakfast for me and the idiot Tom who was still sleeping like he's never slept a century. Surprisingly, he still hasn't woken up.

I glanced at the odd clock on my wall. Instead of the numbers written in one to twelve, it had easy equations that would give you answers from one to twelve. For example, at the top where the number twelve was supposed to be, it had the radical sign with the number 144 in it instead, which means the square root of 144. On the right side where the number three was supposed to be placed, it had the symbol of pi instead, because it rounds up to three, and on the clock's center were the words written in an odd lettering, "You're still late, anyway, even if you figure me out." I rolled my eyes and smiled. It was Chris's gift to me from my birthday last year. I'm such a Math geek and he's always mocked me for it like it was such a bad thing, saying things like "you sure aren't normal if you like Maths". My best friend can be thoughtful sometimes but he's still a prat. He really didn't forgive me for being late all the damn time. Anyway, the shorter hand was pointing towards five pi all over six, which would make sense to someone who's learned basic Trigonometry, meanwhile, the longer hand was pointing at the square root of 144, which simply means... it was already 10am.

I remember Chris telling me before, "I would never understand why some people--that's you--would love this clock. I mean, I already get confused checking the time on an analogue clock. Why would anyone want to have a hard time just to know the time? Really!" I told him it was lovely, anyway. I appreciated that he took time to think of a perfect gift for me.

Weaving my way back into my "bedroom", I grunted in annoyance seeing the tangled duvet on the small sofa beside the bed and on the bed itself. I walked closer to Tom who was still sleeping. I poked him on the shoulder, trying to wake him up discreetly.