Chapter Text
I was stuck in history class before my tummy got its reward.
“Every time in history, an event was caused in a single minute. I will end this class with one question: how many years does it take to forget that minute?”
our new history teacher yapped his ass away on our first day of this academic year.
The class didn’t fall silent, the rumbling noise of introductions never fading away. One newer student raised her hand, interested in this particular topic.
“Sir, do you think that this will remain in the past?”
“I believe this will happen to all of you.”
His finger flew up in the air, dragging it to point to all of us, finally making a bunch quite.
“When the time comes, we will all experience that one minute that cannot be erased as the years pass by—”
Pppringgggg~
The bell rang, announcing the end of class and the start of lunch. We all stood up, thanked the new history teacher, and walked to the lunch hall.
“W- wait i didnt finish my sentence-”he got cut off again
“It's fine sir byee~”I waved to him while walking to the exit.
…
The lunch hall is always loud.
At least to my ears, they tell a story. A story where a person steals food before the prayer starts because they are too hungry,
or a story where two friends are giggling and talking about how they should bunk the next class.
Our surroundings are a clue.
And I was no different. I was exaggerating how our teacher misspelled my name, making my friends laugh. The smell of chicken 65 clung to the air and I could already see three people ogling the chicken…I feel bad for the chicken, its getting harassed by the eyes of filthy boys.
But as time went on, the mic made an eerie noise, silencing every loud and energetic student. Prayer time. Our school has a time where we stand and think about how grateful we are for the food and not waste it. Every new student was stiff during this time, closing their eyes and folding their hands, but as a person who has been in this school for 3 years, I am an exception. I rolled my eyes, leaned forward, my toes stretching upwards and looked ahead to see the new students.
One was wearing a cute cream dress with red bows on it. What a choice but style is style can’t judge it, can we? A solid 8 outta ten.
There’s a kid wearing a skull shirt, his wrist full of black bracelets. … o-okay? But I do need to appreciate his efforts, 7.5 outta ten.
I was checking out every student in front of me, rating their outfits out of ten.
Until I saw him. Black shirt, his fluffy hair falling onto his forehead, his hands clutched together around his sipper bottle. His broad shoulders were so nicely built, it’s most probably a triangular shape. Hmp… I like triangles, they are strong and need no support and are very flexible…
woah,Woah,WOAH!?
Am I drooling? My eyes bent down a little to see his footwear. Ohh boy..his shoes suit his style, a black Converse, now that’s what we call fashion. I looked a little up to check out his face, whether his face fit his sense of style—
He’s already looking.
Where though? I followed his gaze
His eyes on mine… MINE!?
He tilted his head, raising his eyebrow. His sharp eyes already drilling holes into mine,I felt my face burning up. I quickly stiffened myself like the other newbies and quickly closed my eyes, acting like I came to this school for the first time.
If I can’t see him, he can’t see me.
That was the minute i couldn’t help replaying in my head the whole lunch break.
Maybe the new history teacher was right.
…