Noah

the thing in between

Noah

I scattered my vision throughout the vast pool of busy people. They were scorching flames under the blazing sun—one that manifests frustration and confusion all at once. First year of college was barely a hell to remember as they wouldn't really fit to your liking. This time around, Eithan is my one-way ticket to becoming one of the school's finest social elites of butterflies but I wouldn't mind a pain in the ass for consecutive four years of being a sociopath. When a person becomes introverted, they don't just divert to the idea of keeping as much attachments as possible, they value attachments.

The paces of the halls created a remarkable resounding footsteps of rapid confusion. Soon after, there was Eithan flaunting his newly painted nails from Macey's, the one that he stubbornly told me about last summer. Eithan had a job as a clerk in the Canterburry Hall but found his interest in the fashion industry. The desire to quit clerical works were unbearable for him so he decided to completely quit the job. His parents are rich, rich as in old money rich so he does it just for the sake of being occupied.

"Tropical." I transferred my vision to his nails. I never paid much attention throughout his course of showing off his nails. I remember one time I was carrying his multi-pocketed sling bag, the way it drew attention to his nails was unintentionally stupid enough to ruin almost half of the acrylic. That time was when I wished I was reincarnated as a bird.

"That looks like a wailing apple, don't you think?" I gasped as he was furiously staring at me.

"Silly you. The art of nails doesn't always come with perfection. Plus, it's not me who did them so as you know." His nostrils were breathing intense fire of hatred and sarcasm.

"I know, I know, but tropical isn't the word that was in my mind." "Then what is it?" He asked.

"Maybe fruity?" I can see his face barely holding the laughter that's about to explode in front of me.

"I know. Kinda fruity, isn't it?"

ARC B3 Room no. 12. The struggle of never really knowing where might this be is extremely overwhelming. Fortunately, Eithan has a whole pack of social butterflies mingling all over departments. They were like will' o' the wisps, except they aren't really blue and tiny. The Building has a refurbished touch of pale salmon pink walls with fine ionic pillar designs. The walls had surely never known graffiti as it seems to evince classical architecture. It's like Harvard but cheaper.

"Here it is." Eithan grinned widely at me as if he was welcoming me to the gates of the underworld. He never was one for dead serious faces but this one also doesn't look like he is being sarcastic at all.

"You can move now, Eithan." I tried to get past him but he just stood there awkwardly spreading his right arm through the door.

"Eithan, it's not funny." He ceased at last and clutched my body entirely facing him.

"Listen, you can call me Eithan and that's fine. But when Sean is around, then Sabrina is my name." He uttered annoyingly in a growl.

"Okay, okay. That's more likely what I'm trying to say. I'm sorry. Can I go now?" I asked frustratingly. He unclenched my shoulders from his two scrawny arms.

As soon as I get inside the room, the faces of somehow privileged brats of politician babies directed towards me. The face I can barely make figuratively barred my enthusiasm to socialize. The time wasn't fast enough to find myself a seat so I tried not to be anxiously defined by the situation.

"You can sit here." Finally a voice so angelic I could barely remember what I was trying to do. I faced to where that voice might be from. Sooner, I saw this jock stud sitting right beside the window. His hair as golden as the sunset that it literally touches the light coming in. The breeze blew quite as it pleases just for the moment and his cheeks were turning red I can see the tiny veins on the surface.