Gaze (v.)

-        Gazes are of different kinds, and breathes different meanings.

“So did you two kiss?” Kai asked me first thing. What I found out with Kai is that he tends not to stray from his point. He would ask questions until he gets the answers he wanted to hear. He is definitely my son in that aspect.

However, I was not one to divulge dating experiences to my own son. I found it inappropriate and awkward. Very awkward.

“It’s none of your business,” I told him, but we both know that’s not true. As soon as I said those words, I regretted saying them.

Kai hummed knowingly. “Is that ‘none-of-your-business-yes’ or ‘none-of-your-business-no?” He inquired further. The other thing about Kai is that he cannot let go of things, and that he has a tendency to take things too far.

“I don’t want to tell you,” In told him with finality.

To my surprise, he dropped the subject off and went on to ask me about something else.

“Did you see me at the diner the other day?” he asked, which is another of way of saying that he knew we saw him at the diner.

“Uhm, yes?” I answered hesitantly.

“She’s a nice girl. And I like her. So yeah… please try not to embarrass me in front of her,” he told me, in the same way every teenage boy is afraid that his parents would embarrass him in front of the girl he likes.

I managed to hold back my chuckle and decided to eye him with seriousness instead. “I will try not to embarrass you in front of her.”

Kai shrugged his shoulders and said “That’s all I really want.” Kai started to move towards the door. I wanted to stop him and ask him about what happened moments before but instead, I held my tongue and let him go.

***

The whole school was in a state of hullabaloo the following day, and the unfortunate thing is, I was topic of the latest school gossip.

I am used to being stared at. Being the youngest student in this university sort of makes you stand out. But eventually, even the novelty of my youth faded out, and in a few weeks time the staring stopped. I could not tell you how relieved I was when they stopped looking at me. Not that I didn’t want to be seen, but I wasn’t so keen on standing out for the most asinine reason. I wanted to be seen for what I achieved, and for I was, not for what I was on the outside.

I wanted to be seen for my reputation, not for my physicality.

Although I had never given anyone grounds to doubt my integrity as a person, people are always willing to bet on my looks than my talents. I realized then, that in this world, you can either be look upon in four different ways.

The first type is the look from people who themselves had done something ill. These people begin by knowingly smiling at me, a smile I so hated: the sheepish smile of secret conspiratorial consent, a bond of something akin to brotherhood. I despised that kind of smile. It is the look of sinners, of people who think that having faults make you like them. We are not our faults. We are better than that. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

The second type is the look from people who assume I had done something ill. These people possess the faces that prosecute. As much as I hated the first type, I hated this second type more. It is like the reaction of a moral fundamentalist, a type of person I so loathed all my life.

The third type is the look from people who could care less. Their reaction is, well… rather nothing. They had no reaction at all because they do not have even the slightest reason or emotion to care. Empty people with empty holes inside of them.  Amorals who know nothing about doing right or wrong.  People who