Tao

            The brightness returned. The lights, however, were not the rude part of my awakening. Rather, the obnoxious tantrum of on old janitor was the cause of my annoyance. He was a babbling mess, brows bend, face tinted with fury. Incredibly bothersome as it was, I had to put a stop to this. “Shut up.” I scoffed, “People like you couldn’t piss me off more if they tried.”

            He spun in place, aiming to glare at me with intimidation. “You shouldn’t be here, kid. I’ll your if you stay a minute more.” He prodded me with his broom, “That means scram.” I stood but, to spite him, dawdled.

            Circling the stage, I whistled; visible in the corner of my eye, the man was fuming. “Every day, I get some arrogant kid waltzing into the theatre like he owns the place. I’ve had it with you all; I even locked the door, this time.”

            “Oops.” I mocked as I swung the keys in front of his face, “Guess you didn’t bother to consider the student tech director, who happens to have the keys.”

            He looked absolutely dumbfounded and I loved the feeling swelling in the pit of my stomach- victory. “If you’re not careful and upset the wrong people,” mid-promenade, I stopped, swimming in the strength of the spotlight, “The aftermath will not be pretty.”

            Grunting, obviously at a loss for words, he looked defeated. This was enough to improve my mood significantly. Taunting others and bringing them down fed heavily into my pride. Sure, it was despicable, but, in itself, this was a despicable situation occurring in a despicable world. To set in the last bit of my fun, I mischievously grinned, in likeness of the Cheshire cat, and feigned concession, “I’ll let you clean up, now.”

            “You brat.”

            “And, I’m a forgiving brat, at that. Count yourself lucky that I’m in the middle of a sticky situation. Otherwise, I would easily beat your for merely speaking to me. Watch your tongue.” The man, mature as he was, stuck out that mocking tongue and I nearly spat at him; yet, I was better than him, so I wasn’t going to stoop to his level anymore. My chin raised, shoulders back, I waltzed out the door like the king of the castle.

            Okay, so maybe on the solemn walk home, I plotted all the worst things that could possibly happen to that janitor.

            Maybe.

            And, then again, maybe I spent that walk and the long hours at home, alone, secretly wishing I could dissolve into nonexistence.

            A light buzz massaging the arc in my back caressed me back into focus. Now, I could realize that I hadn’t slept. Already, a headache was stirring in my head and I stomped, like the monstrosity of the morning I was, to the supply of painkillers perched on the bathroom counter, waiting almost mockingly for me. Throwing my head back to down the pill, I choked. In a fit of coughs and gags, I threw my head under the faucet, not without crashing into the surface, and let the water flow into my mouth.

            On days like these, I am not a morning person.

            Looking into the mirror, I found a bump the size of a thimble, raised and red, jutting out of my forehead. “Perfect.” I muttered, chiding myself for all of my stupidity.

            Once more, I chided myself when I found myself putting on pants backward. Then, again then I put face cream on my toothbrush. “Today is not my day.” I groaned, poking the spot on my head as I waited for the coffee machine to sound its familiar ding. “I might as well not even go to school. At this point, it’s almost too much to even bother. I’ll be almost late, anyways; besides, on a day like today I’m not only a hazard to myself, but also to anybody who walks within a ten step radius. It’d be best to be confined.”

            So, maybe I was making up reasons not to show up to my early morning Advanced History of Culture class. Maybe it was because the class was kind of worthless to the average human and the teacher knew it- hence why he would shove the subject down each of the students’ throats—but I honestly had no will to leave my apartment.

            And, then, my phone buzzed, haphazardly shifting about the table to warn me. Displayed on the screen was the one name that would make me throw the phone against the wall in panic; Byun Baekhyun. I screeched, suddenly, realizing that my phone was across the room, perhaps not even functioning anymore, with a text message from Baekhyun, waiting for me. Rushing over and collapsing onto my knees, I cradled the device in my palms, praying that it would be revived. Fortunately, it lit up after an extensive period of prodding and poking, and I could breathe a sigh of relief.

            Instead of clicking into the message box to find Baekhyun’s text, I dreamily idealized a situation in which he would text me a time and location for a romantic dinner and, there, proclaim his love for me, and sweep me off my feet—and we’d somehow end up on a horse, racing into the sunset.

            Okay, I was a little bit carried away. I sat on the floor, deeply immersed in dreamland, for twenty minutes more before a panicked ring of my cell phone pulled me away. “Xiumin, what is it?” I answered, a bit annoyed, for Baekhyun’s smiling eyes were floating further into the back of my head, then.

            “I thought you might want to know that you have five minutes to get to class.” He nagged, “Your normal seat is saved for you, but, assuming that you haven’t left your apartment yet, and you’re probably not even dressed, should I let someone else sit there?” .

           If Baekhyun’s smiling eyes were at the back of my mind, today’s classes had been pushed to the very corners, if not, right out my ears. The class wasn’t very far away, but Xiumin was right in presuming that I hadn’t even begun to pick out clothes for the day.  Dressed in a t-shirt and boxers slung low around my waist, I’d be a total distraction for students trying to learn, if I were to attend classes.

            After all, I’m practically with legs.

           “As much as I hate to miss class,” I began, sarcasm oozing from my words, “I don’t think I’ll make it to class. Maybe if I’m feeling up for it, I’ll meet you afterwards for coffee, before my second class? If I don’t show up, I’m sleeping, or thinking, okay?”

            He chuckled, obviously expecting my lack of interest in class, “You skipped class last week, too, Tao. Just because you can pass this class without the daily lecture from Professor Nam doesn’t mean that you can skip whenever you want. You’re lucky that I’m the teacher’s assistant or your would be in trouble.”

            “I wouldn’t say it’s not; after all, Baekhyun texted me this morning.”

            Xiumin made a sound that sounded somewhat like a groan and also somewhat like gagging—I imagined it was a bit of both—before I heard the professor’s cranky shouts and the resulting halt of the murmur of students, “I guess this means goodbye, Xiumin.” I dramatically concluded, “So long, dear--“He hung up without letting me finish my monologue. Of course, nobody wants to hear a techie pretend to act; it’s just wrong.

            So, with neither a person to talk to nor the foggiest clue of what to say to Baekhyun, I paced around my apartment, trying to think. Eventually, I managed to take a shower and cloth myself in real pants, but in my mindless state, I’d say it took some considerate effort to accomplish such feats. Ultimately, I ended up, walking around the courtyard in utter oblivion, bumping into student after student.  The familiar roar of student voices was rather abuzz in my ears lent to my distraction like white noise. My focus, it was fuzzy. One giggling sophomore was knocked into me, one long pigtail slapping my cheek, and I could barely react with anything more than a soft growl.

            I walked around that day in similar meditation, entirely oblivious of humankind as it went on without me. Then, abruptly, I found myself seated in my Advanced Astrophysics class, painfully aware. I turned for, only seconds earlier, someone had screeched my name. One rather frustrated giant stood at the door, glaring. His curly bronze hair was standing up every which way and his eyes, underneath the wild anger, were tired. “Tao!” He hissed, and I flinched, “I’m going to give you five seconds to get your ignorant out into the hallway or I will drag you out, myself, by your ear.”

            I didn’t really give the idea a second thought and stood up, despite the questioning glances I got from both my classmates and my teacher. Chanyeol, at the door, tapped his foot in impatience, “I don’t have all day, you know; I have people to see.”

            “You mean,” I say, climbing towards the door before murmuring for only him to hear, “People to . And that, my friend, is synonymous with the name Kris, your current love puppy imported straight from China.” I pinched his cheek, “The secret’s out, Chanyeol.”

            He pushed me away, “I don’t need you talking about my love life when yours is on the rocks. I don’t even know what to say when I think about your relationship with Baekhyun. I don’t even know where to begin. Well, I do, actually. Baekhyun texted you, this morning, and you didn’t even bother to answer. How’s that supposed to make him feel?”

            I moved to answer, but he put his hand right over my mouth, and I was instantly hushed, “No, I’m not done. He feels lousy; no, he feels like . He goes away for the weekend to clear his head and, I don’t know, figure out how to confess—though I really don’t think running away from his problems, at first, was the answer—but when he finally get’s the nerve to communicate with you, you don’t even bother to text back? The least you could do is acknowledge him, you know? Tell him that you don’t like him that way or you do like him that way or whatever, but tell him something. He’s been pacing all around our apartment this morning, waiting, when I want him out of the house.”

            So, he was only doing this so he can have the apartment to himself: meaning, so that he can get laid?  “I meant to text him back, but I had classes this morning. He’s not the only thing I think about. I’m not some bimbo girl; I have more on my mind than boys and and I wish I could say the same for some of us.” I nodded towards him, but, unfortunately, he didn’t really get the hint and we both fell silent.

            “So…?” He hesitated asking more, and I mulled over Chanyeol’s words:

            Baekhyun had been thinking about me; no, he'd been worrying about me. He'd been pacing around his apartment, torn up and falling apart over me. Perhaps he had cried tears over me, overcome with emotion at the slightest idea that wondrous Tao would not love him, and—

            “I’m going to leave before you get weirder, okay, Tao?” I presumed I looked a little hot and bothered standing there, finding that I had bitten my lip until I could vaguely taste blood. As Chanyeol turned away, I couldn’t help but chortle just a bit because the boy stood out over every other person, one head taller than everyone else.

            I reached into my pocked and pulled out my phone. I checked my messages, and, sure enough, there was his name: Byun Baekhyun. the keys as I read his text message, I had to admit that, for a nervous boy, Baekhyun had sent a rather casual message:

            Hey, let’s talk.

            I scoffed. This message could easily been cause for many reactions, had I actually read it. Pressing the call button, uncertainly, I put my ear to the device and let it ring.