Me and the brown-eyed boy

I’m writing as gentle rain continues to pour outside the window.

So I’m going to tell you a story. It’s about me and a brown-eyed boy sitting behind me. I don’t know, but we are squabbling. My classmates didn’t take it seriously, even calling it a lover’s quarrel. On daily basis, we would trade each other with insults up to the extent that I’d wished I could strangle him.

After all, he’s dissing me more than ever. He could be distantly polite to other girls, but he chose to become a bully when it comes to me.

Sometimes he would throw paper balls, snatch my bags and other belongings, even nudging my seat whenever I try to sit down, making me stumble and flush in embarrassment. The brown-eyed boy then would laugh like a maniac, and I would glare at him like a lunatic.

Others who saw our squabbles would metaphorically compare us to the mythical oil and water. Others would’ve commented that we’re just playing games. A different kind of games. Perversion is my classmates’ strong suit, and indignation is my best defense.

Then comes a time where class coordination is a must. As much astonished as I am, the brown-eyed boy sitting behind me and I worked out just fine. We were getting the hint that people would start commenting that we’re the greatest tag team ever.

And in some point, my instincts picked up, saying that I should continue doing what I’m doing. And as ever, my confused mind asks me what. I’m frustrated to find that my answer is paradoxically near and out of reach at the same time.

At some point, there came a transferee. The brown-eyed boy looked up, and stared at the back of my head that says ‘you know something I didn’t’. And in so doing, I took a good look at the boy, recognizing him as my former crush.

And it’s the same boy who left my feelings hanging years ago. The fact that he recognized me and the sudden decision to pick up the way things went sent my nerves hackling.

The brown-eyed boy did nothing, but I’m surprised he took in my recent behavior by connecting the dots. He can still manage to diss me off, but in some mystery, he became protective in a sense that he became icily polite to my former crush.

At some miracle (which made me and the whole class scratching our heads), they didn’t fight. They even became friends.

And the brown-eyed boy who is sitting at my back? He just confessed.

And the rest is history.

PS: Happy twentieth out of a hundred! This is a typical short sweet (I dunno) story, but alas, the narrator isn’t me. She’s one of my children in my imagination, and I’d like to introduce her. *grins shyly*

Anyways, the next post is hopefully not eons away, but will continue to write ASAP. Thanks for dropping by!

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