Chapter 3: Interpreting Mundane Concepts As Complex Was Mentally Taxing

  The cafeteria was a graveyard of plastic trays and abandoned napkins. 8:06 PM. For a prestigious school, the Aethelgard students sure knew how to leave a mess. I stood at the entrance, wondering if leaving a mess was a "social construct".

  If such an apocalypse emerged from one meal session, then my laziness would be one grain of sand in this desert.

  The minute hand ticked from one to the next—as the second hand was already nearing the checkpoint of its endless journey.

  Ophelia turned to me, her dark, sienna hair catching the dim overhead lights. Even at the end of the day, she moved with a grace that felt almost out of touch with my contrasting personality.

  I'm getting left behind—a social pace I can never match—it costs too much energy to try and keep up now.

  "Hey, Zeke. I'm leaving you with Alizée and Aaxya," she said, her voice a bright contrast to the desolate room. "I’ve already eaten. Make sure you get something; don't try to starve yourself."

  She looked at me with the same cheery expression she displayed in the library. Is this a case of deja vu?

  "Alright," I muttered.

  ?She ran off with a bounce in her step. It was like watching someone eat a meal when you're already stomach-full; her energy just makes me feel sick.

  I wonder if Aaxya is okay with this? Yeah, I hope Ophelia knew what she was doing by forcing a terrible set-up such as this. My stomach is tying in knots.

  I stood there for a long moment. To my left, Alizée was abnormally quiet, her doll-like features set in a default expression that was almost... soothing. Behind me, Aaxya stood there, as if she were getting introduced to another person again.

  Alright, how much longer until we get some food? I wondered. Maybe we won't even get anything and we can avoid this whole interaction altogether. That'd be nice—

  ?"Zeke, are you going to do something better than just standing and smirking?" Alizée snapped, the soothing moment shattering instantly.

  The stern comment felt like a shockwave, and I'd be paralyzed if her voice truly carried such power.

  ?"Chill. I'm deciding..." I lied. I was hungry, but the effort of choosing was cranked up to extreme difficulty with all the poor choices.

  Alizee is the type to babysit for the sake of feeling responsible. There's no way in hell she actually wants to be here for any other reason besides being hungry.

  No—maybe that's it.

  The food stands with the leftovers turned out to be the more unpopular meals. Being a picky eater in this moment could easily kill. I began to pondering how desperate humans can become for food once they're trapped in a desolated area with limited supply.

  "Well, hurry up! You know what.."

  SNATCH!

  Alizée didn't wait. She grabbed my hand—a bold, impatient grip—and dragged me toward the rotisserie chicken.

  Her patience is even lower than my energy. I wondered if she questioned how I even got on the Student Council—was being invisible all it took to push her buttons? I need to know who I'm hanging out with.

  The three of us sat down. I took a seat at the end of the table, creating a "safe" distance. I didn't want to be the third wheel, but in my head, I was already over-thinking every relationship inside and out of every perspective from different people.

  There's nothing worse than being a third-wheeler. I don't even have to explain the concept when it's evident from the naked eye. Some people compromise by being a confident third-wheeler—I see it as a coping mechanism full of lies.

  I'm navigating a pretty deep rabbit hole—it isn't too late to climb back up, though.

  ?I focused on the chicken. It was a savory breather—the reward for surviving the tour. I wanted to pretend I was "on my own" rather than "alone." If I could just rewrite reality to make myself a "nobody," I wouldn't have to worry about the heavy weight of expectations. But that reality was a boat that had already sailed, and I was stuck on the pier.

  I don't like being left behind—the feeling of it is cruel no matter how you slice it. It's like every friendship and connection you made was purely situational. Those bonds end up snapping once you leave and suddenly everyone is a stranger.

  I guess certain types of chemistry thrive in environments with only a select few conditions for a habitable journey.

  "Hey, Zeke. How much sleep have you been getting?" Alizée asked, mid-chew.

  ?I snapped back to the cafeteria. "I’ve been getting more than you, that’s for sure."

  ?"Then why do you look like a walking corpse?"

  ?"Genetics," I deadpanned.

  She made a "tch" noise, practically bristling at my witty comments.

  "Well,"

  Alizée stood up, her movements crisp. "I'm heading to the dorms. Don't lose sight of Aaxya."

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  I nodded, watching her leave. Alizee's presence could still be felt even after she left the room. Aaxya looked at her nearly-finished plate, then at me. She had that "I have a question" look—the one that starts a conversation with mutual agreement alone. She averted her gaze once we made eye contact that lasted longer than 3 seconds.

  She hasn't begun talking yet. I wondered, getting up from my seat, stretching. I'm gonna put my tray back on the rack.

  Clatter!

  The clock caught the corner of my eye—without thinking—I quickly checked the time. 8:26.

  If you hold yourself accountable for roaming around after curfew, then the most convenient course of action would be to check the time.

  Personally, I've never had to worry about curfew because I stayed home all the time.

  The night outside began to welcome the idea of a peaceful walk—an inviting gesture that should only be performed by humans—reeled me in like a fishing rod, and I was the fish falling for the bait.

  Behind me, Aaxya placed her tray on top of mine. The sound of the clattering trays echoed throughout the cafeteria—a feat that should only be pulled off by a cathedral.

  After catching her eye, I gestured her to follow me. She accepted the offer and we began our once-in-a-lifetime sidewalk trip.

  The dreadful atmosphere consumed the schools interiors as if there were a gas leak. It didn't cause any harm to us as the lobby and cafeteria were a hallways worth of distance. Before we knew it we had entered the realm of the calm darkness—the spotlights guided our path to the dormitory.

  The walk back to the dorms was painfully liminal. The halls were empty, the silence ringing in my ears. As we passed the outlet mall, Aaxya finally found her voice.

  "...Um, Zeke?"

  I turned. Even with our height difference, she managed to look me in the eye for a split second.

  "What’s up?"

  "Did you... get mad at me earlier? About the fencing? I'm sorry if I made you mad." she says, with less confidence, almost bracing for a negative response.

  "Oh. No," I admitted. Cushioning the truth. "I just hate fencing. Don't worry about it."

  I didn't just hate fencing, Aaxya.

  There's nothing worse than trying to explain something so redundant to every new person I meet. It's also an unnecessary way to earn everyone else's pity, so I just didn't bother saying anything other than an answer so believable you might as well go along with it.

  People often say that failure is a sign of success—yet they don't realize that sometimes even if you try your very hardest and fail, you end up questioning whether or not those quotes are even true. When that happens, you end up snowballing each failure and just embrace the fact that you should just quit.

  We walked in silence, the sound of the distant ocean waves filling the gaps.

  It seemed, that we had become more comfortable with talking to each other compared to earlier. I would have never thought I'd meet such a person. Someone so quiet and timid, yet confident in what they're saying.

  We continued our walk, the dormitory growing in size as we got closer. It was so quiet you could hear the ocean waves, the bay wasn't far from this grassy terrain. I looked over at the bay, then the horizon.

  Once we reached the dorms—separated by gender—we exchanged an awkward wave. I used the stairs to avoid the elevator small talk.

  With the convenience of my dorm placement, I'm on the first floor. It's nice being this close to the ground.

  I unlocked the door to my room, opened it, and was welcomed by the refreshing sight of my bed. I couldn't help but do a belly flop onto it.

  The days over, yet I'm still here worrying about what's next.

  I pulled out my phone, and decided to take a look at the Student Council Group Chat.

  I've honestly completely forgotten about it because I muted it long ago, I decided to unmute it. After scrolling through, I'd realize how less frequent my name has been mentioned.

  That is a first step to removing the weight off my chest. I'd always hated the sight of seeing planned events, it gives me a sense of dread, like it's my death date. Knowing that I'd have to be responsible for something that day, my mind just wants to pretend it isn't there. It doesn't make it any better that I was forced into this position, that means I actually have to worry about things I didn't want to worry about.

  There is nothing worse than knowing you are supposed to be doing something other than nothing. I got up and decided I would shower the thoughts away, effectively washing away all of my sorrows. They're like body odor but even more persistent.

  As I got up from my bed, I placed my phone down on the nightstand and stretched. I didn't even get to take one step before I heard the 'Ding!' come from my phone.

  Woah, that actually startled me. It's been so long since I've heard that sound, for the one time I decided to unmute the student council group chat.

  I should probably just enable "Do Not Disturb" next time.

  I decided to take a look at the text, because for some reason everyone feels the need to check a notification no matter how addiction-resistant you are.

  Ophelia: "Hey, Student Council! We are gonna have a meeting before school on campus at 7:15! Be sure to make it there on time!"

  Great. I'm only ever shown the most inconvenient inconveniences, if that's even grammatically correct.

  I just sat there—hoping the message would just disappear or get cancelled—but it was pointless to do so any longer. I got up and headed to the bathroom.

  Hopefully things will be better between me and Aaxya tomorrow.

  7:03 AM. The next morning.

  I got up from my bed, hoping I'd forget about the meeting just so that I could have someone like Alizee or Ophelia drag me there.

  It's no use, I can't lie about something to myself. I'm gonna have to follow through with it.

  After finishing up with all of my morning routine antics, I calmly made my long journey toward the dormitories exit.

  There were a decent amount of students scattered among the dorms lobby—some of them waited, chatted, or rested. I didn't see anyone I knew within those groups of students, so I decided to head to the door and get a taste of the post-morning walk nightmare.

  I walk this long sidewalk to and from school every, single, day. I saw an article talking about how long walks can contribute to better grades, so maybe this walk isn't so bad after all. I'm always forced to look at the more objective side of things—it makes me sick knowing how bumpy life really is. It's hard catching a break from all the tiring aspects of adolescent schoolwork.

  I walked toward the school. The morning air was tropical, the breeze carrying the scent of salt from the bay. This was my antidote—the quiet before the storm of "Trying."

  Suddenly, something slammed into my back.

  "Hey, Zeke. Good morning," Alizée smirked, her hand still resting on my shoulder from the impact.

  "Good morning," I coughed. My lungs were still folding under the "assault."

  "You're going to the meeting, right?" she asked, her brown eyes surprisingly genuine.

  "No, I’m going to a nap, obviously," I cracked a dry joke. I wanted her to see a "playful" side, mostly so she’d stop hitting me.

  Chop!

  "Uh, why..?"

  "Pay attention, Zeke," she grinned. "Ophelia and I have a foolproof plan. You better listen."

  I don't want to listen. In fact, I don't even want to be here to help with this plan.

  "I’ll listen," I grumbled, adjusting my headphones around my neck.

  Small talk. I hated it. But as I looked at Alizée’s hair waving like a flag in the morning breeze, I realized that the "Gray Life" was getting harder to maintain. I was being pulled into the light, and for once, the weight of a goal felt heavier than the comfort of my own shadow.