Title: Such Standards

Description

Cafeteria, innocent bystander, a sleeping bag, and autumn

 

Story

He was, once again, observing everything in his peripheral vision as if they were a still-life, a piece of art that had no more purpose to be analysed than the other. Leaves turning into their crimson shades and tints, the sun poking through twixt the convoluted pathways (and perhaps he was just looking for more smart sounding words to boast his vocabulary, not that anyone could really hear him).

But he was content, if anything. He was leaning against the railing in front of the Physical Sciences Centre of his university waiting for his friend to get out of class and found nothing else to do besides observe, as any other given moment in his life.

If one were to look really closely, and perhaps squint a little, they could make out the corners of his lips just barely pointing upwards, but it would have been gone in a moment’s notice.

The crowd surrounded him with all of the other’s students making their ways to wherever they needed to go, and he looked towards the door from where they were coming from, trying to find the all too familiar Doctor Who backpack that stuck out like a sore thumb.

He wasn’t disappointed.

It was only precisely 10 seconds later when he saw her trotting down the pavement towards him, smiling as she always did with headphones in her ears, probably listening to another artist she probably just heard of the day before and already downloaded the discography for.

---

Initial thoughts were that it was too cold. The leaves have only started to turn and that was usually the sign that winter was coming, so to speak. There were other references to make, but none came to mind at the moment. Not with heavy techno beats pounding into her head. Somehow, it was odd. Because she was feeling the bass when she didn’t even hear the sound.

“I have the sleeping bag ready.”

Its the first thing that she says to him, whether or not he understood the context, it didn’t matter. He stared at her with something of a cross between calculating and art-appreciating and it didn’t settle well in her head. Odd combinations were odd and the mass of people walking in and out of the halls made her head swirl.

“What are we doing again?” she asked.

Again he regarded her with that cool stare.

“Right,” she answered her own queries, as she always did. “I’ll play the innocent bystander and then you go murder someone with that ice cold stare of yours. Alternatively, you can crush their dreams and ideals with your oh-so-charming wit and snark.”

Finally he spoke. “Why do you always get to play innocent bystander?”

“Because if you play innocent bystander you’ll find a way to plot twist everything and tada, you’re the actual murderer and that’s cheating. Because then...uh...actually, there’s a reason why you’re always the murderer.”

“Because my good looks kill?”

“Because when they look at you, they think they just looked into the eyes of terror.”

“With a handsome face.”

“Believe what you want.”

She hated arguing with him. In response, he simply gave her that half-smirk-half-smile expression that still irked her to no ends, but she simply ignored it. The two of them headed to the campus cafeteria, he, as per usual, already having his credit card out to pay for the both of them and not allowing her to spend a cent.

“You know I hate when you do that.”

“All the more reason to, honey.”

“You. Are. A. Sadist.”

“But I feed you.”

“YEAH, TO KEEP ME ALIVE SO YOU CAN TORTURE ME MORE!”

Surprisingly, the caf was so loud that day that not a single person even bothered to turn their head towards the source of her outburst.

“How observant of you.”

“It’s another one of your traits that I painfully picked up.”

“My influence is spreading.”

They walked side by side, plates in their hands as they looked at each and every single dish displayed in the buffet section that changed daily and criticised every single one of them as well as rating them on a scale from ungodly to why-has-my-life-not-been-blessed-with-this-food-before. Most were just meh, if one was curious.

They didn’t bother with anything in that section and just got their usual lo mein and rice from the Shanghai section.

“Must we conform to such standards every single time?”

“Until they manage to impress us, yes,” he replied. “What were you listening to earlier?”

Her eyes widened as she immediately swallowed her unchewed food. “Oh my god! Zedd is my new bias!”

“Bias? Seriously? Is he even Korean? I thought only Koreans conformed to that cult type of fandom.”

“SHUSH YOU!” She squealed again as she dug for her iPhone to play her favourite song on the album. “You must listen. It’s not an option. I demandeth thee.”

“Then I guess I have no choice.” He replied while smiling, taking the outstretched earbud from her hand.

Because he knew she was watching, maybe too intently than what was considered appropriate for any standard, he schooled his features into a well-practiced look of indifference. He counted down the seconds before she frowned, scowled, then frowned again as she anticipated his judgment. He took a second to stall, then another, and another one, and she huffed impatiently.

“I know you’re doing that on purpose.”

“If you know, then why do you keep reacting the exact same way every single time?”

She scowled. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. It is a legitimate question. This exact scenario happens every single day. I wait for you to come out of your building. You ask me about some sleeping bag. You demand to play the innocent bystander. You assert that I murdered someone in cold blood.”

“Then you lecture me with the exact same thing. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MY NEW BIAS?!”

“And then I will say, it’s not like what I think about the dude changes your perception of him. And then you say, no it doesn’t. And then you talk about him some more and I try to eat my food in peace and hope I don’t get indigestion because I have a three hour lecture after lunch and that’s never a good thing.”

“Must we conform to such standards every single time?”

A smile slipped and it’s too late for him to catch it, too late for him to take it back and feign innocence when she pressed the issue. “You should listen to Clarity. I think it might calm you down just a little bit.”

There’s a screaming fit. Ironic because he had hoped for the opposite effect. Ah well. His rice awaited pre-digesting.

If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy~
If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity~

The lyrics and synthesised beats buzzed through his ear tunnels, which surprisingly, had that calming effect that as she said proposed a couple of seconds ago. He didn’t even bother with a facade this time as he closed his eyes, chewing his food while bobbing his head up and down to the beat of the music.

“It’s a nice song.”

She was silent, and it wasn’t until he actually looked up at her to see why. She was gaping at him, which was slightly disturbing since there were still a few grains of rice in .

“Can you repeat that?”

“That.”

She stopped gaping, her usual scowl taking over once again. She sipped her green tea while glancing at her surroundings again, a common habit of hers that he’d taken note somewhere in the middle of the five years he’d known her.

“Any interesting happenings in life you feel the dire need to inform me about?” He urged.

“Yes, actually. There’s this guy in General Chemistry that always comes to my tutoring sessions.”

He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh my god, I cannot believe there are people actually like that. Look, I don’t really view myself on any high standard, but if he’s trying to impress me by coming for my TUTORING, then please...at least have the brains to do it. He doesn’t even understand the damn material, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t find failing grades particularly impressive.”

“Who is he?”

“Since when were you so interested?”

.

“Curiosity I suppose. I mean, you rarely talk about other people, even less, about guys in front of me.”

And he preferred it that way, not that he would ever admit that out loud. Moments like these he stole a glance at her, at the way she tried, really tried, so hard to keep a smile from breaking out on her face. In his head, he knew what she was trying to do, and as much as he told himself to react accordingly, his brain never seemed to get the memo and his ego-protective nature would rear it’s scaly and all sorts of visually unappealing head.

“Although, admittedly,” she stalled long enough to focus on the view outside, to compose a perfect statement, one that would draw out the response she wanted, “you have to appreciate the effort? Like...at least he tried?”

“You’re not trying to mentally push me into murdering the guy are you?”

And it’s all too easy. She coughed, only because laughing, cackling, would be counterproductive. One more step to go. “Of course not. We’ve still yet to figure out what the sleeping bag is for.”

Ah. The sleeping bag. The corners of his lips tugged the slightest and this time she gave into that laughing fit. “You know, one day you’ll have to explain to me what this sleeping bag business is all about.”

“But I still really think the dude is following me around. You should take some kind of preemptive measure.”

He rolled his eyes. “What for?”

“Don’t be so smug about this.” Even when he had every right to be.

“Am I ever?”

“You genuineness could freeze beer.” Ah, the Shakespeare reference. “But honest opinion.” Oh, this would be tough. “What do you think I should do with the guy. It’d be rude to just shoot him down.”

Of all the times she decided to be nice... He was holding back a sneer as he munched his lo mein loudly. Surprisingly you could hear it over the crowd. He also looked to his side, attempting to find anything to bide his attention.

“Hey, I asked you a question.”

He was dazed. Well, he pretended to be. “Sorry, what?”

“You can’t fool me. You. Are. Never. Dazed.”

Damn.

“Do what you want.” That came out more bluntly than he had anticipated, but the message was clear cut, at least in his tone and not so much in the actual words.

She tried to hide a smirk. “You’re uncomfortable about this, aren’t you?”

He choked slightly. “What?”

Oh this was getting to be too entertaining for her.

“So Mr. High-and-Mighty actually cares for me. I feel so honoured to be in your care,” she attempted to say with her horrible British accent.

“Get over yourself.”

She didn’t let up. “No. I think not. Not until you give me a moment of honesty.”

He rolled his eyes. “A moment? Here’s a moment. You need to get over yourself.”

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way her eyes dimmed or the downward pull of her lips. But he didn’t like that she could see through him either. He didn’t like that she could so easily use it against him. It was unfair because the moment he tried doing the same to her, he was completely unhinged by the twinkle in her eye. And that was stupid because eyes didn’t twinkle. He didn’t like it because he knew she liked when he tried to get into her head.

“Fine.” She didn’t bother to face him again. “Don’t you have class?”

That was his cue, and it couldn’t have been more perfectly timed, seeing as how things were escalating to a rather uncomfortable level. His class was, indeed, starting in a couple of minutes.

“I’ll get to that.” He stated in the most monotone voice as he stood up, leaving her.

---

Okay, so he felt extremely pathetic. Yesterday, he had felt so uncomfortable around her, and now, he felt so uncomfortable not being around her. Did oxymorons generally ade one’s life to such an annoying extent? Perhaps he was the exception.

Nonetheless, he didn’t even know why he was doing so, but he was leaning against the same damn railing the next morning, in front of the same damn Physical Science’s Centre, waiting for the same damn Doctor Who backpack that belonged to the same damn girl that was constantly interrupting his train of thoughts.

That’s a lot of damn things.

But he found himself surrounded by the same crowd before, and of course, the same Doctor Who backpack sticking down, only this time, the person wearing it seemed to be slouching, uncomfortable with even picking up her feet properly.

Great, now he felt even more worried about her.

His first sense of deviation? He ran up to her, not bothering with the stares he was receiving. He hadn’t been lying about his looks, and with them came the popularity, but damn that all at the moment. Right now, the girl he felt so damn protective over was looking like hell just rushed over her, and it would be a miracle in itself if he wasn’t to blame.

He stopped right in front of her, taking her by surprise as he reached out for her shoulders.

“Look at me.” He commanded.

“What are you doing here?” she sneered, still in half surprise, if that was possible.

“Isn’t it part of our system?” He tried keeping a straight face, but he lips were inching upwards, amused at how natural their interaction had seemed to become.

“Must we conform to such standards every single time?”

Funnily enough, the same went with her, and now, they didn’t even bother to talk with words for they just simply looked at each other, smiling in content.

“Still want me to murder that guy?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve still got the sleeping bag ready.”

The End.