INVICTUS

XI

As the bullets shatter, still

Against thin air

The world goes round and round on its tilted axis, time still passes by. But my mind is still there, in that storeroom. Every time I try to move on, get out, I can't.

Is this what it's like to spiral into insanity?

No I'm still sane, I think. Sometimes I lose myself to the sound, the feeling or the sight. I don't think it's normal, but then again nothing has been normal.

Exams are nearly here and I'm not prepared for them. I try to prepare myself but I cannot. I cannot focus on anything for more than five minutes. So I think of the one thing that can help me now. Salih. I call him up.

"What's up?" He asks.

"I can't..." I pause. No I can't tell him I can't concentrate. He's going to start telling me to go see a professional. "I don't understand Simple Harmonic."

"Alright, I'll be there in a sec."

He hangs up and I think about my upcoming exams. Scratch that, I start panicking about them. I am definitely screwed for maths. I might be able to do alright for my Essay writing subjects like History and English, I may even be able to scrape by for Biology. But I know that it will not be to the best of my ability. You might say 'But Rhys, that's probably better than half the students in NSW' here's one thing for someone who usually gets above 90% for all there subjects, anything less is a scary prospect.

The door bells rings and I find Salih standing there with two exercise books, his artbook and his pencils and pens. His hair is flying about his shoulder. He was even wearing his reading glasses, which he would usually never be caught dead in.

He grins up at me.

"Sup" he greets walking past me making his way towards my room like he lives here, which he practically does.

He dumps his stuff on my bed and opens up an exercise book, which I recognise to be the one he uses for tutoring. I sit next to him ready to learn.

"Tutoring book?" I ask.

"They don't teach it very well at school." He says. "It's quite an easy topic, I don't know why they're moving it to Extension 2 maths next year."

"I can."

"Mr. Mai says that they teach this to year 8 kids in Vietnam."

Mr. Mai was his Vietnamese tutor. Dare I say from all the stories I've heard about him, he's quite a meme.

"Don't they need calculus for it?"

"Not really let me explain."

He starts explaining. I find it works better than trying to study by myself. When he explains I find myself listening and understanding it little better. In the end I agree with him. It shouldn't be and Extension 2 topic.

Once he's done he looks up at me.

"Stay right there."

I freeze up, perplexed as to why he wants me to stay there, then he takes out his art book.

"You're seriously not considering me for your major work are you?"

"Why not?" He asks. "It's perfect, the way the sunlight catches your hair, your expression aesthetically pleasing and the room gives it a kind of intimate feel. Which is what I want, so stay right there."

I know he talking about it from a completely artistic point of view but I can't help but feel a flush of pleasure at the compliment.

I grin at him.

"Paint me like one of your French girls."

He merely rolls his eyes and puts up his hair in a sloppy messy bun, held together by a pencil. I feel myself losing the plot as I watch him draw me. The sun catches his cheekbones glinting mischievously, teasingly. He frowns a little and bites his lips from time to time. I feel the sudden urge to just lean over and kiss him.

But that's not what best-friends do.

~~~

Things getting a little steamy amirite?

- Alekos P.