Shakespearean love had always been superficial to me. Everyone was just overly dramatic. Like come on, Romeo and Juliet dying for a love that grew in record time? She was barely thirteen; for the love of God.

The thought of coming close to feeling whatever they could possibly feel for each other, so intensely that they would pick death over living without the other, was jarring and incomprehensible.

My foresight was off though, and for once, I would agree with William Shakespeare: If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.

I never realised how much I was drawn to music before I listened to Parker's playlist selections. On second thought, it could have been that I did not know how strongly I was attracted to Parker before he immersed me in the world of music he liked. It almost made me want to confess my feelings for him, as Adrian or as Mystery. It didn't really matter as long as he got to know.

That night, and many nights after that, I frequently looked through the playlists in the links he sent. I listened to the songs so much that I knew which came after which by heart.

Parker had called me a handful of times after the first one-sided exchange, and he introduced me to a world of songs I didn't know I needed to hear while we did our homework.

Sometimes, it lasted for only a few minutes, our bond often broken by the world outside what was us; when my mother called me for dinner, or his siblings became too overbearing and refused to listen to anything Parker said. On rare, treasured times, it lasted centuries and years and months and days and hours. Those calls usually ended up with both of us falling asleep on the line, leaving the timer to count our shared moments when consciousness left us, leaving us to surrender in darkness, which was induced by the mere reality that we were both there.

Luckily, I didn't have to worry about Wi-Fi plan being drained whenever I accidentally slipped off; we had unlimited data for the month. If not for that, I would have already gotten so much shit from my dad about my internet usage.

But even that wouldn't have deterred me. The approaching presentation didn't, much less a scolding.

Yes, the project date was finally due. No, I wasn't scared in the least. I had read through the document several times, and I could quote everything in it without the bat of an eyelid. Anxiously going through it every four hours did that, you know?

But it seemed some others in my Biology class weren't as confident as I was.

That morning, Kevin kept reassuring himself that he could do it, despite asking constantly whether Mrs. Smith would develop a change of mind and let us have the papers back. Rowan faked being nauseous right from lunch. He was loud and showy, no doubt going to use anyone who was within a fifty-mile radius as a witness that he was indeed 'going to puke out everything he ate the past three days' or felt 'diarrhea awfully close, and will need an hour-long bathroom pass.'

Conveniently, those symptoms lasted up to the Biology period. The sad thing was, Mrs. Smith said she'd risk Rowan shitting himself in class than have him miss out on his education. He didn't spill out his guts from either end.

Marie was the first to present, as usual. It was a perfect account, assuring whoever studied that they could ace it just like her, or totally flop, if they hadn't.

Isabella went next, and she delivered with only a few hitches. I didn't particularly care whether or not she did well, as I wasn't quite happy that she still hung around Parker a lot. She was still very flirty around him, and it sparked rumors of them being an item. There was even one about them skipping school together, flying around, which kind of made sense because they both weren't around on Tuesday.

Parker didn't deny them, and while he had technically told me he wanted me instead, I still felt terrible. In my defence, my hope that they weren't together when they were out of sight had been proved wrong before. Who could say it wasn't true this time around? I mean, Parker was not saying anything.

Behind me, Micky recited rehearsed lines repeatedly. His head rested on his desk, and he would occasionally stumble over a couple of words, curse under his breath, and start from the beginning. His turn came soon, right after Anashi.

"Michael Loski." Mrs. Smith read out, beckoning him to the front.

"Wait... that's me!" Micky exclaimed suddenly, jolting up from his previous position. Paper crunched as he squeezed it into a ball and shoved it under his desk, noisily shifting it to the side as he stood.

His walk to the front of the class drew attention, not only because he kept bumping into stuff while he mouthed more words---curses and all, but also because he was him. Micky was famous for making remarks with double entendres, getting the class to laugh, and intentionally being a nuisance... just enough to stay out of detention.

He pressed his fingers on his forehead, face scrunched up as he mumbled some more. After a deep breath, he started talking. "Cellular respiration is the process by which organisms combine oxygen with foodstuff molecules and convert fuel into energy and nutrients."

The shocked expressions and silence that came were jarring. No wisecracks came, and Micky continued with a self-satisfied smirk. "You see, it all happens when chemical energy is released during the oxidation of organic molecules." He paced the front, hands behind his back, pausing when he lost his train of thought. "What was I saying again? Ah, yes. Cells."

He took only three minutes to lecture us with everything he had crammed, receiving an ovation while he fanned himself after he was done. As soon as Micky's butt touched his seat, he heaved out a heavy sigh of relief.

Mrs. Smith gestured to me with a nod. I was next. I had prepared for this, so I had no problem starting.