School. Again. The silence envelopes the classroom like a blanket, and it leaves tightened jaws and closed mouths. All that can be heard is the echo of the ticking clock, and the subtle noise of breathing. The teacher writes on the whiteboard, and the squeaking of her marker is the only thing that can be louder than the clock. A cough from the corner of the room. A sneeze from the side by the window which blows the cool air in the class. You stare blankly at the board, thinking. Why do we need to know why x is equivalent to negative sixteen? Why do we learn? What is the point of all this?

Maybe it is to feed us. Humans are just beasts that need to be fed all the time. Selfish beings, sick to the guts. I am human; and not so happy to be so. Learning can be good, or so I am constantly told. Curiosity leads to adventure, to a world that is open, a world that is full of knowledge that we have to pursue—apparently. But I do not think so. Learning can be a cruel thing. Learning teaches us the cruel reality of our beings: we learn to hate, we learn to be greedy, we learn to kill, we learn pure evil. We learn to remove our innocence. When we learn, we leave behind us our innocence. We lose the purest state we can be.

Why are babies innocent? Because they have not learned. They have not learned the evils of the world, and maybe that is why their smiles is something that we should protect. The ringing of the school bell resonates in the school, and everyone rises from their seats, fiddling with their fingers, patiently waiting to be dismissed.

As you walk out of the hallway, he is waiting there for you. He leans casually against the wall and turns to face your direction the second his eyes land on you. It made you feel special.
“How was class?” he asks you.
“The usual,” you reply nonchalantly.
He just nods and takes your hand, leading you to the loud chatters in the canteen. Weaving through the crowd, your hands are the only things that connect the both of you, and your feet finally finds its way to your usual seat: in the corner of the cafeteria, opposite to Kris' seat.

You munch on your bland sandwich in envy as he happily slurps his cup noodles. He glances at your expression, and smirks playfully.
“Jealous?” he says, looking up to you as he drinks the soup from the noodle cup.
You don’t say anything. You continue chewing on your sandwich. He continues the cheeky grin plastered on his face and waves his fork teasingly in the air. You pout.

You have both been almost like ‘eating partners‘ ever since the start of last year. You were both assigned to work together on a science assignment task. Your first impression of him wasn’t the best: he was chewing gum, lazily resting his head on the bench table and was loud. He had an attitude that made you want to slap him. He was lethargic, and casual, overly friendly, but you had to admit: he was attractive.

Now he is someone that is a total fool. He is playful, funny, idiotic, and hard to admit, cute. You had become good friends during the year, but you had always wanted more from your relationship. Friend-zoned, right? Isn’t that what they say?
“After school, let’s go to the auditorium,” he whispers into your ear after he leans into you.
You try to hide your blush and nod. The tiniest things he does can make your heart flutter. Like how he ruffles his hair every minute or so. How he bites his lip when he cannot solve an equation. How he creases his eyebrows when he is lost in thought. How he laughs when you body gag. You walk inside the auditorium and he runs in, yelling loudly.
“Yah! You’re crazy!” you yell back at him, throwing your empty water bottle at him.
He just laughs as he plops onto a velvet seat. You take the seat next to him. After a few minutes of silence, he leans his head back and sighs. He must be tired. After all, he will be debuting soon. You poke his pout. He turns to you and abruptly stands up.

“Why do we learn?” he asks you the same question you asked yourself in class.
He begins to walk around, glancing at the contents of the auditorium. The red velvet chairs, a scarlet draped curtain, dim stage lights, and a broom lying on the ground.
“For the sake of our curiosity.” you reply while raising an eyebrow, wondering why he asked you that question.

“Beep!” he hums, indicating that your answer is wrong.
Hm? I thought I was right. You wait patiently for the ‘right’ answer.
“We learn to experience.” he says to you.
“What?” you ask.
“We learn because we want to discover things, you know? Like how children first learn about Santa and his reindeers, the Easter rabbit and his eggs—like that. They experience joy in that knowledge.”
“Yeah, but then they learn that those things don’t exist.” you say back to him.

“But before that happens, they learn how to believe.” he whispers with a grin.

He was right. So learning can be good. 

“I learnt something from you, you know?” he says quietly, leaning into you.
His soft lips crash to yours and you widen your eyes. You can feel him tilt his head slightly to the side and his hands travel to your waist.

As he lets go, the corners of his lips tug upwards, and his cheeks lift up. His smile speaks of nothing but innocence. Warmth floods into the depths of your heart and stirs it, making it more restless that it was before; and fireworks explode like crisps in your mind, every blast following the next. The happiness in his smile, the innocence, the purity, the beauty: that is something that you want to protect.
“I learnt to love.” he finally tells you.