Trochilidae

Chapter 4: Behind His Smile

Many people hate school and, well, this is a well-known fact.

There are many different reasons as to why students hate—dislike so it wouldn't be harsh—going to school and this is something that we can't really argue about; whether it'd be because they'd have to wake up earlier than their usual wake up time, because they would have to endure another hour or two of Maths, to have to present in front of the whole class, to have to procrastinate on homework, to have to deal with the bullies, and so on and so forth. There are also the reasons for laziness, stress, and whatsoever. But, despite that, by the end of the day, it will still result in learning something new, or at least, something that will hopefully stick to us as we continue on this journey of life.

There are also those days when you would feel out of it and probably not give a single crap about what's going on in class.

Truthfully speaking, it was the exact feeling that I am experiencing right now.

It was History class as of the moment and while the teacher was discussing the current topic, going through his well-designed PowerPoint presentation, almost everyone in the class ended up doing something else.

Some of the students decided to chat lowly with one another while others decided to sleep through the class. Others, especially those seated near the front, ended up listening to the teacher and took down all the notes that they can. I, however, resulted in writing an outline for my story in order to pass the time.

It was honestly the only way I could think of, and I couldn't think of anything better to do with the remaining minutes of hell that there were left. Writing and imagining is my portal to escaping the real world, the gateway for me to enter and create a new universe, a blank canvas that only I could paint.

With a pen on hand, I try my best to jot down every single idea that is flowing through my stream of thoughts. To somehow flesh out the story while my motivation is at its highest peak. The story I'm writing at the moment was rather short, but the message within it was meaningful even when the ending is meant to be sad—or in other words, make the readers cry waterfalls.

An hour soon turned to minutes and minutes soon turned to seconds. As the long hand races the shorthand to reach the number twelve, students in the room wait in anxiousness for the time to tick by. Soon enough, the bell rings across the school and students spontaneously rejoice as another session of classes has finally ended.

After the teacher bid his farewell for the day and left the room, the class excitedly got on their feet and exited the classroom to meet with their peers. Like everyone else, I too was excited to meet up with my best friend, so I hurriedly packed my notebook and pen in my bag, took out my lunchbox, and left the room.

The beginning of lunches always starts like this; a crowd of students fill up the halls and soon disperses as they make their way in different directions. I dance my way past the crowd, looking for my familiar brown-haired friend, and made my way to his classroom that was located on the second floor of the building.

I ran down the stairs and dodged the people passing by to look for my friend. I find my way to his classroom with the expectation of him to be sitting on his chair, waiting for me, or doing something else. But by the time I got there, I peered through the glass panes of the air-conditioned room and haphazardly scanned it in hopes that my best friend was inside.

When my eyes found the chair Beomgyu was assigned on, behind that window mist, I could barely see all of his stuff neatly organized under his chair, his bag slumped at the back of his classmate's chair, but no sign of the person that I'm looking for.

The ends of my lips soon falter to a frown, wondering where my best friend could be. I stood upright and permitted myself to look around, searching through the crowd to see if I could find my brown-haired friend.