Conversations in Neon

"...in short, parallelism is where God, coordinates mental and physical events. There is no cause-effect relation between the mind and the body; they simply work alongside each other, in parallel. An apt example is of a student who is punctual for his classes. So, for a class that starts at four, whenever he arrives in the room for that particular class, a clock strikes four. It is not his arrival that causes the clock to chime - the two just happen to coincide."

You stare to your left, out the windows into the sunshine that lit up the outside world as you sat immobilized in your seat. Was this Science or was it Philosophy? You couldn't quite remember and at this point, you frankly didn't care. Listening to the lecturer was becoming more of a chore than ever. Her high pitched voice turns into distant babbles as you get caught up with picking the lint off your jarring neon yellow tee that you had thrown on in a mad rush. You usually saved it for days off when you bummed at home, away from the judging eyes of the fashion forward. Only you could admire such daring masterpieces.

"Damn, I did not sign up to learn any of this ," your seat mate huffs out, annoyed. He leans forward, one arm stretched out over the table and the other under his chin. Whatever sunlight that streams through frames his features in all the right angles and he looks every bit the aphrodisiacal creature he was touted to be. Realizing that you weren't about to humor him with a conversation, he nudges your foot with his converses that were two shades greyer than when you first started the semester. You shift your gaze from the green and red swirls that were splattered over your shirt to give him a glare that he returns with a wink. “What?”

“Talk to me. I hate being ignored. Especially by such a pretty lady.” You hardly reacted anymore to his off-handed flirting. It would do you no good to humor him with an appropriate response anyway.

"Well Kim Himchan, within this past year, I have come to believe that you have not signed up to learn anything," you say calmly and return the foot favor with a kick to the shin.

"I like living precariously…" a grunt escapes involuntarily as he reaches for his throbbing leg to soothe the developing bruise, "defying the rules, one-upping the system…you know what I’m saying?" He pauses to process the underlying insult, “And I’m not stupid if that’s what you’re inferring."

You sum your disbelief with a scoff, your pose now mirroring his defensive one – arms folded and nose held high, “Stupidity, dumb blonde…tomahto, tomayto, same difference really.”

“That reeks of racism. Not all blondes are dumb.”

“But you’re Asian.”

The conversation was heading nowhere near intellectual overtures and the last time you took a glance at your watch, you had twenty minutes or so to the lunch bell. With nothing else better to do, you settle for a mindless sparring of wits. Himchan however, constantly played defense to your verbal attacks (not all his lights were switched on in the upper chambers) but he did ask for it this time with the annoying foot nudges.  

“I'm like a panda, if you hadn’t noticed. I'm a black dude deep down, white on the outside and Asian," he smirks at you, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. You mentally note his two front teeth that stood a millimeter or so further out. Cute.

“You’re such a wannabe. First, a dumb blonde and now you are a panda? Indeed, you have such a colorful sense of creativity.”

“Well, at least I’m not the one wearing a hideous shade of yellow and attracting unwanted attention,” Himchan grins teasingly. “You still look cuter than most girls though.” He reaches out to give you a pat on your head.

An overwhelming urge to knock that confidence of his a few pegs lower courses through your veins. No one insults your precious traffic light tee. Not even this beautiful boy. You jerk your thumb behind towards the other blonde in the lecture – the manlier blonde. “To be honest, Bang strikes me more of a black dude deep down and less of a wannabe than you do.”

The smirk on Himchan’s face drops and Bang, who had been listening in on the conversation at hand leans forward in his seat, reaching for a high five which you return with a smile, “Rock on, girl.”

The result of the insult only lasts a couple of seconds before Himchan screeches over being left out, “Hey, what about me?” He lifts his palm up for a high five that goes pointedly ignored by Bang. “Yo man, what happened to bros before h-”

He stops mid-sentence as he catches the piercing glare that he you send his way and his face contorts ever so slightly under your judgmental gaze. He was not about to refer to you as a hoe. “W-what I mean is uhm….? Uhm yeah man, what happened to before uhm…chicks?” His face lights up at his pseudo-genius moment that saves him from an untimely demise.

“But I thought you were a dumb blonde chick...or was it a racially confused, fat panda?” Bang his chin contemplatively and you silently laugh at how easily Himchan became the of jokes. Himchan’s mouth opens but stops at the first syllable when he is interupted by the afternoon bell that chimes not too far off. Like clockwork, books slam shut and the lecturer sighs and closes hers as well.. The students file out, some in higher spirits now that lunch break was here.

“I’m outta here,” you turn round to face a standing Bang who slings his bag over his head, “gonna go grab some grub. Do continue that love spat you lovebirds were having.” You make a gagging sound and Bang shoots a wink your way before walking off.

“Yah! What did I say about not flirting with my seat mate, you !!” Himchan waves his fist at Bang’s disappearing figure – like it made a difference. His arms were pathetic excuses next to Bang’s ripped set of appendages.

-

Your worlds exist as parallels and you knew that your seat mate played on a different field despite the healthy dose of flirting and winks he bestowed upon you. This was the guy every person in campus recognized, the guy whose desk was stacked with chocolates on Valentines and littered with letters and love notes every other day. It was that sickeningly charming smile of his that attracted the ladies like a swarm of bees. You weren’t immune either, against your better judgment, to that gruff baritone drawl he spoke with. “I hate you, Kim Himchan.”

“Kinda figured that out when you threw away that cake I slaved over for four hours in third grade,” he scrunches up his face in mock hurt, a hand over his heart.

“For your information, Jongup sneezed over it. Twice. And he had snot hanging off his nostrils that one time.”

“He must have looked ugly.”

“The ugliest he has been.”

“You are a horrid sister, do you know that? You aren’t supposed to agree with me.”

“But he sneezed over your cake. And it looked really good.”

“...He’s ugly.”

-

You stop to tie your shoelaces because you kept tripping over them and Himchan announces in his loud talk show host voice that he needs to relieve himself. You were headed outdoors for lunch and Himchan tagged along because he wanted to avoid getting his handed to him by Youngjae. Youngjae was an impeccably polite boy who hung out with Jongup but he was also the university’s top debater. It didn’t come as a surprise that his quick wit was too much for Himchan to handle.

“Wait for me alright. Don't you dare run off without me! I swear I’ll stalk you down and ravage-”

“Himchan, can you just go and empty your bladder?”

“Riiiiiight here, young lady.”

You let out an exasperate grunt and he hurriedly runs off with a wink, his blonde hair bouncing with every step. Damn those good genes and carefree nature.

As well-known as he was for his looks, Kim Himchan was notorious for skipping classes, sleeping in them and for being exceptionally tardy. Between the both of you, he bordered on being the parasitic other half. Being his rather unfortunate seatmate, lab partner and the on-off project pair, your notes seem to spend most of their time sitting in his bag than in yours. To make up for all the trouble, Himchan bought you the occasional coffee and unloaded a sizable amount of chocolate he received from his legion of admirers in your locker (you suspect it was Jongup who had ratted out your secret indulgence). Okay, perhaps the relationship was symbiotic.

A warm hand slips through your own and brings you out of your daze. You look up, following the length of the arm to its owner and surprise colors your features. Your face starts to heat up at the contact and you quickly tear away from Himchan’s intrusive eyes.

“Ugh, did you wash your hands?” You tug uncomfortably at your hand, trying to break the source of the awkward atmosphere.

“Heh, wouldn’t you like to know?” He wriggles his eyebrows at you. How the hell does he do that?! Your eyebrows itch for an attempt to make a fool of themselves but you sense that now isn't quite appropriate.

You tug harder in disgust at where that hand of his could have been. “Eww, let go of my hand Kim Himchan, before I knee you.”

He lets go and you decide that you didn’t quite like how it felt when he actually listened. But he grabs your hand once again and this time, he intertwines your fingers. It felt good…and right, like puzzle pieces that fit. Cheesy. That line was cheesy.

“Stop trying to run away _____.”

“…”

“Why are you still struggling?” Himchan reaches for your face and you lean away.

“We’re in the hallways. I don’t want your ardent fans to get the wrong message. Now can you please let me go?”

“They’ve got to start understanding that it isn’t against the rules for me to hold my girlfriend’s hand.” Then, the apples of his cheeks redden up and he gives you a bashful smile, “And...I like holding your hand.”

“Gosh, Himchan can you stop it with all these flirtatious lines and signals.”

“I’m not! I'm completely serious!”

“What are you serious about? When are you ever serious? I really don’t appreciate this-”

“I like you.”

“…”

“Say something.”

“I-like you too,” you gulp. Was this one of his inappropriately placed April Fools jokes? “I like it when…I like it when you are sleeping in class because your snoring isn’t as bad as when you’re spouting some bull.”

Your voice grew stronger, “I like you especially when you're absent and there’s no one there to annoy me. So, yes Himchan, I really like you…about 80% of the time.”

“No, I mean I like like you.”

“…”

“Are you planning to run off like you did when Zelo confessed?”

“That was because I had stomach upset from those homemade chocolates you gave me.”

He gives you a sheepish grin. “That’s why I’ve stopped making you those. I buy those Belg…” he trails off, his face showing that he hadn’t planned to indulge this tidbit with you.

“You mean those 20 odd boxes or so of Belgian chocolates weren’t from your fans?”

“Uhm…Happy Valentines?”

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. But Himchan doesn’t stop; he was a man on a mission.

“Will you please be my parallel?”

“What?”

“Wasn’t that what we were learning this morning?”

“It's parallelism, Himchan and I don't see how it relates.”

“Remember that example? On being punctual?” You nod. “Uhm….be my parallel so I'd be punctual to class?”

You fight the urge to face palm. “Is that what you call a confession? And for the second time Himchan, it isn’t parallels, it is parallelism. And if you had actually listened, you would know that the clock had nothing to do with punctuality. There is no cause-effect between those occurrences and therefore I wouldn't have an ef-”

Your mind blanks out again and you still feel the lingering sensation from the peck Himchan placed on your nose.

“Will you please be my girlfriend?”

“…”

“Can I take your silence as a yes?”

“No, uhm…wait, it's a we-will-see-how-you-fare starting tomorrow morning. You are on probation.”

His face lights up, this time his smile reaches his eyes, “I'll be early. Earlier than you.”

You snort. How unlady-like. “I'm not gonna hold my breath.”

“Don't,” he says, “I don’t want a dead girlfriend.” And he skips off with a wave and the third wink of the day (probably to tell break the news to the boys and to warn Bang to stay the hell away).

-

You arrive slightly later than usual the next morning. No sign of Himchan. A smile creeps up your face as you power up the flights of stairs to your seat somewhere in the back. Some things wouldn’t change. Nearing the top, you notice a crop of black hair that belonged to someone who had his face buried in his arms. He was occupying Himchan’s seat. Weird.

Then you notice a bag you haven’t seen since you graduated from high school; it was Himchan’s.

“Himchan?” you gently nudge the sleeping figure. He squirms a little before lifting his head to look at you with bleary eyes and he glances at the Tissot that adorned his wrist, “Oh hey babe, you’re late.”

“Yeah. I wanted to give you a bigger time window…you look different.”

“Do you like it?”

“You look like a Spock wannabe.”

“Do you like Spock then?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh…okay. Well, may the Force be with you.”

“That’s Star Wars. Spock is from Star Trek.”

“…”

“I liked it better when you were a dumb blonde. Idiotic black doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily.”

“…I am trying.” He points with a pout to his notebook and pen (both brand new) that were laid out.

“I know,” you say with a smile, “and you look super cute when you do.” Underneath the table, his hand had enclosed yours. You interlock them instead and give his hand an encouraging squeeze. "Stop calling me babe though. It's too greasy."

“Lovebirds,” someone mutters from the back. Bang was here early.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ugh, hot Spockchan is hot. Those soulful eyes, staring into your soul. Heh.

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I've sort of tuned out 2/3 way through. Churning out words but not actually checking for mistakes and . Probably will be back to edit for mistakes.

I realize that I have failed to mention Daehyun anywhere. I am such a good job. Maybe it was his flawless pits that blew me away.

And uhm, I felt that Jongup's fitted best as your brother because he is such a squishable kid who you can order around and bully anyday but he'd still love you like a cute, lost puppy.

I didn't feel the need to add that they called themselves B.A.P because seriously it is

to go round with all that swag being called something as tame as Blonde Alien . But yes, they do hang out together. This is how you met Himchan in third grade; through Jongup.

And ugh, I'm not a fan of Belgian chocolates (they don't come off with a 'full flavour' like let's say Cadbury or maybe my taste buds are messed up) but they seem somewhat classier than a slab of chocolate.

Thank you for reading :)

Love,

Lynn.