I've never had a friend.

As depressing as it sounds, I’ve never indulged myself in human relations that required more than being acquaintances.

From the first days of my life and up until the age of eighteen I never had what you would call a true friend. I never went to sleepovers, nor did I ever attend a birthday party. The reason for my actions being the fact that I didn’t want to get too close, to invade somebody else’s space as if I was wanted. I rarely was anyway; I noticed that after a while.

The teachers would always complain about this during elementary school, asking me why I never went out to play with the other kids or why I never spoke to anyone. It wasn’t really a reason for my behavior; I just never saw the point in leaning on someone or depending on them. And that was probably why people stopped talking to me.Why they started to avoid me as if I wasn’t there at all, and spoke of me as if I wasn’t present. But it was what I wanted in the end, even if the constant absence expanded the annoying void inside.

Maybe I enjoyed the pain too much for it to be real? I never really thought about it like that before, as the pen between my fingers landed on the table and rolled onto the floor.

“Is this yours?” a small figure asked as she bended down to pick up the fallen pen. I quickly noticed dark hair and pink nails grasping onto the item before straightening up. A few books are placed in her arm, threatening to fall out any second by her clumsy posture.

I nodded before accepting the pen again, the slight contact of her skin giving me small goose bumps, yet I dismiss it quickly. “Do you mind if I sit here?” the girl asked carefully.

I didn’t reply, my lips failing to move. Instead I gave her a quick glance of approval before going back to my studies. I heard some shuffling and a chair being pulled aside before several books and papers entered my vision. Again I didn’t say anything, I just wrote inside of my notebook, trying to memorize the important facts for next week’s test.

There was nothing but silence around us, except for the occasional scribble with a pen or typing from a computer. It stayed like that for a while until a soft poke landed on my shoulder, waking me up from my study trance. “I’m sorry to bother you, but what does this mean?” Tiffany then pointed to a sentence in her book, eyes casted down on the paragraph in confusion. I scanned through the paragraph before picking up my pen again and translating the sentence. Then I rip out a part of the page and hand it to her, a grateful smile on her face before she looked back at her book again.

“You don’t talk a lot, do you?” she asked later through the silence, her voice in a soft whisper as the librarian passed us by. The old woman gave us a look, but didn’t say anything as she disappeared behind a bookshelf somewhere. I silently looked up at her again, her eyes already looking at me, and for some reason it nearly made me jump in my seat.

I look at her for a while before ripping out another piece of paper, scribbling down the first thing I could think of before I slid it beside her book.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

Silently she giggled, probably not noticing the annoyance in my writing before looking up at me. “I’m just a curious soul, living in Seoul,” Tiffany replied with another smile, and even if it was a very dry joke, it was kind of humorous in a way.

The corners of my lips tugged upwards a little, but it was so faint that barely even I noticed it before it was gone. I wrote another note in reply.“Curiosity killed the cat.”

A slightly amused look was upon her face, her dark hair getting tied up in a messy bun before she stole a glance towards me again. Her eyes casted on mine with a playful gleam, as if she was smiling through her eyes. It was kind of intriguing, even if I didn’t want to admit that out loud.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” she said after placing her hands back down by her sides. Slowly I nodded in approval, ripping out another piece of paper before writing my reply and sending it back to her.

“Touché”

Again I heard her giggle, but this time I focused on keeping my eyes down on the paper again. “Well it is fine if you don’t want to talk, this works too,” Tiffany said from the other side of the table, her pink nails and the outlines of her sweater the only thing in my vision so far. I didn’t feel like looking at her in that moment and I didn’t really know why, I just got these odd feelings.

A couple of minutes passed in silence as we went back to our work again, the occasional sound of paper being shoved together or pages turned being our source of white noise. It didn’t stop until the bell rang, signalizing lunch was over and that class was soon beginning. Tiffany stopped with whatever she was doing, packing up her belongings before getting up from her seat.

I stole a few glances at her from the corner of my eye, but I still didn’t look up. At least I didn’t until she spoke to me. “Aren’t you going to class?” she asked while slinging her bag over her shoulder, and my eyes finally looked up to meet hers.

I gave her another glance before returning to my paper, scribbling down something before ripping out the page to give her.“Self-study.” 

Her eyes kept on reading the note, pink nails contrasting fair skin before she nodded understandingly. “Well I’ve got to go now. I’ll see you later Jess!” she said, waving before walking away, the nickname rolling out so casually from her lips.

For a while I just sat there, not really knowing what to think by that. But even then I let the nickname repeat itself in my head. Until I almost believed it was my own name.