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I'm not normally like this.
The people who know me, Moon Haeyi, would describe me as "a ray of sunshine". Cheerful, enthusiastic, optimistic—the type of friend that would brighten your day. The type of student that would get on your nerves from answering the lecturer's every question and laughing at their horrible middle-aged puns. I usually sit up straight and proud, excited to engage in learning, yet here I am, hiding in my oversized hoodie like a turtle instead.
I tighten the knots of the hood around my face, hoping it would cover as much of me as possible. From where I'm seated, I can see him perfectly; dressed in a cream sweater and a fitted black cap, laughing with his friends, looking so good that it's ridiculous. The way he looks happy and unbothered is tearing my heart to pieces. Here I am, suffering like hell, while he doesn't look the slightest bit affected by what happened. I think of running off to the bathroom to have a good sob session but my butt is glued to my seat and I can't find it within me to move, scared that my slightest movement would make him notice me.
It's a nightmare that I still can't wake up from. My emotions, especially towards school, have been a roller coaster ever since my nasty break up with Mark less than a month ago; I had resented the fact that we're in the same department and are bound to bump into each other, but then I was comforted by the idea that I could easily avoid him since we're in different years, him being a junior and me being a sophomore. The comfort only lasted up until fifteen minutes ago when I walked into this classroom—Professional Writing 258, an elective that can be taken by both sophomores and juniors.
And of course, we just had to pick the same elective at the same time.
I pull out my phone to text Renjun, my best friend who I should've listened to when he told me to take floristry with him as our elective, and inform him of my current sticky situation. It's also to make myself feel less lonely since this is the one class in which I don't know anyone. Well, I do know Mark but I don't think we're exactly the best of friends right now.
In the middle of typing, the lecturer for this class walks in, high heels clacking behind her as the door swings shut. I don't bother erasing my message and turn my phone off as it is, pulling down my hood as a form of manners. When my professor finishes writing out her credentials on the whiteboard, she fishes out a piece of paper from the file she's carrying and then I realize: it's time for roll call. The professor is going to call out every name on the attendance list, including mine, for all ears to hear.
Mark is going to find out I'm in this class. Fuck.
"Present." I meekly respond several nervewrecking minutes later when my name is called out. My heart drums against my ribcage and I thought I'd lose it if Mark looks my way, but the fact that he doesn't even flinch makes me feel like my organs have been ripped out of my body.
