Kaizer doesn’t have any classes at the current hour. For some reason, he’s making the school library his second home, the books that surrounds him the walls of his house. He’s literally reading every genre of books: academia, fiction, nonfiction–you name it. There was only about 10 minutes before my class in . . . uh, what was it again–oh!–Business 101. Hemmington. That snarky little brat of a professor with a mind of a spoiled diva. Not that I hate her, but she always picks on me every single meeting we have. And it’s always the rhetorical questions that she asks me that gets into my nerves. She’d be a great professor for a law subject, but this ain’t it.

Currently, Kaizer is reading some history books. Yes, it’s all about accounting. Luca Bartolomeo Pacioli and the era of double-entry bookkeeping. Dans la vie de Luca Pacioli et l'ère de la comptabilité by Z. Vernon M. de Bourbon.

“Don’t you have classes today, Art?” asked Kaizer as he closed the thick book shut and eyed at me like I was about to get eaten by them. “Ophelie Margaux Dubois-Hemmington for sure is a bitch, especially after what she did to Rox, but then again . . .” He trailed off, as though the next part is something that we both know. I know, yes, that Hemmington is still our professor, but I just want to skip her class for something so calming. Kaizer sighed as he’s trying to read my mind like a clairvoyant. Yo no lo comprendo en absoluto, ese hijo de puta. I shook my head as he failed to grasp what’s on my mind.

“Ay, no, Kaizer; no se trata de Roxie, sino de mí.” As I noticed his eye of confusion, I translated what I just said back to English. “It’s just that, that Hemmington is a thorn on my side. I just wanted to have a peaceful session in her class, but instead I became her Google to-go.”

“And you’re not liking it? From what I could see, you’re being recognized by that old hag.”

I shrugged when he said that. “I mean for one, that’s nice, but I’m drained out.” Especially if she’s asking info every three seconds or less. Not that I care, but there’s a limit as to how much I know about business. And besides, there are 18 more students to ask for information, you psycho!

“Welcome to college, Seymour. Jeez.”

“I’m not you; running a business and at the same time going for Latin honors ain’t my thing. Then add your being a private investigator for your old man–I’d go bananas.”

“Who says I’d aim for a Latin?” Kaizer quickly retorted. Wow, what a showoff for a 21-year-old. I replied with a raise of a brow. “Oh, please, Art; no kidding, I’d be partying if I got a GPA of 2.00. Or 2.25 if we’re in the Philippines. And besides, I gave up trying my best; I have other important plans to do, business, investigation and all.”

That’s Kaizer and all, but knowing him, he’d ace his college without a sweat. Needless to say, he was the valedictorian back then at junior high, which was quite a bummer considering his periodic trips to the counselor due to things. Yep, that. And no, it’s not that his parents donated a fucking parcel of land–heck, I can vouch his Einstein-brain anytime, anywhere. I know we had years of bad blood flowing in my veins (probably not for him, since, well, you know why) but that doesn’t mean I’d go and ruin his image with a mouthful of lies.

And no, I’m not saying all of this to him firsthand; his head would swell if he does.

“Then why reading that French book? Luca Pacioli? Compatibility? Eh?”

Kaizer’s laughter burst throughout the silent sanctuary, and if he wasn’t sitting, for sure he’d roll over his guts out. When his laughter subsided (thankfully, the obviously gay librarian didn’t notice us) he rolled his eyes as though I said something very absurd. “What is the word accounting in Spanish?”

“Contabilidad. Wait–”

“Contabilidad. Comptatbilité. Sounds the same, so probably are the same, yes?”

“Okay, Professor Hemmington, you won this time.” Kaizer chuckled on that. “So, how’s it translated?”

“In the Life of Luca Pacioli and the Era of Accounting. Pretty cool, yes?”

I looked at the clock that was hanging at the wall the whole time. Fuck, I am currently a minute late in her class. Kaizer also noticed where I’m looking and his face stapled a goddamn smirk of what seems to be an I-told-you-you-should-have-left-already-Arthur one. I rolled my eyes and took my satchel, bidding him adios and off to the fifth floor I go running.

The elevator is yet to be fixed, thank you very much, Saint-Louise; what a way to ruin my day.

Hemmington decided to show up in class a few minutes late. “Personal matters,” she says. As she drops her pile of books to her desk, producing a loud bang, her eyes met mine before looking at her notes. She slowly walked towards in front and reclined her bum on the edge of her desk. She crossed her ankles as though she has prepared everything for today. “Mr. Seymour, do discuss last meeting’s lesson.”

I gaped my mouth before making a sudden release of air and rolling my eyes as I proved myself right. I sighed defeatedly as I stood from my seat, and using the makeshift outline I have visualized in my brain, I started to enumerate each and every points during that day. I made sure not to leave any stones unturned, and I never gave any room for that woman to interfere. I ended the minutes for last meeting and the class’s secretary sat after saying what he needed to say. And for the first time since first day of the semester, I saw her smile. A faint one. But still, she smiled.

“Everyone caught up with that?” she said as she pulled out a stack of bond papers. None the wiser, my colleagues are, if they say they do not when I made myself clear at every single word. “That’s settled, then. We’ll be having a quiz today. 100 items.” All of the 18 students looked at each other as though they did not prepare for this kind of surprise. I am too stressed to care to have a quiz, let alone I have to go ahead and review everything under the sun every waking moment of the day. Some tried to argue with her but instinctively kept their mouth shut as they realized they won’t even deter her from making that decision. As she gave each row their respective papers, she noted everyone that “Everyone shall only have two pens in their desk. Erasures are prohibited. Time limit: one hour. No one will be allowed to leave their seat once the quiz has started.” My dear professor, are you sure this is a quiz and not an SAT exam? When she got into my seat, she announced something to the whole class. “Mr. Seymour, you’re exempted in the quiz today; your recitation is good enough as the written one. You may leave now.”

I looked at her with no expression in her eyes as I heard my name. What did she mean by–wait, what? As the information entered in my brain, so does the understanding of what she just dropped. I could feel my eyelids retracted away from my sight as I gazed at her to much surprise.  I tried, of course, to retort as I felt like she’s giving me a reason for many students to hate me in the future, but when I looked at my surroundings, they don’t seem to care at all. It felt like their movements tell me that “you’ve proven yourself already when you spoke to her.” I bid her goodbye as I slowly packed my bags and exited the classroom. As I held on the doorknob, closing the door as I got outside, I exhaled from the top of my lungs, as though a burst of energy has been recharged on me. Another thorn has been removed, and I’m now fresh like a damsel getting ready for a spa day.

“Holy fucking crap,” I muttered loudly as I let my unconscious part of my brain take over me, before covering my mouth and started looking at my surroundings to see if there are other people who heard that; hopefully, the people on the other side of that door did not. The people walking the current side of the door I am in halted in their tracks for a second looking at me before going back to what they were doing before it–walking. I glimpse back at the door in front of me, my left hand pushing the door as a support, my right holding my beating heart before it falls to the ground. I got back to the reality as I heard a set of firm footsteps slowly going towards me. It went to a halt as my vision dimmed by the presence of someone’s shadow blocking the sunlight provided by the natural lighting of the big awning windows of the building. As I looked instinctively to where that shadow came from, I saw someone familiar leaning against the door, his hand also pushing the door and the other on his pocket. He was wearing a maroon crew neck shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, complete with the logo of the university on the left side of the pants.

My sense of adrenaline dropped and without any emotion, I asked him, “I thought I told you it’s over, Gale.” I did not move away from him because, heck, why would I?

He clicked his tongue as a few of the students, again, stopped in their tracks as they witness some drama stirring up. Some even pulled out their phones and obviously filming the events that would unfollow soon enough. They don’t have to wait for long, because Gale answered back. “I just . . . is this about Kaizer?”

I sighed. Yes was what I wanted to answer. Instead, I said nothing and asked him, “What’s with Kaizer that he’s the one always in your mouth whenever you ask about our complicated shit?”  

Gale did not answer to that. The silence seemed unbearable to cope up with, it felt like there was something heavy in my lungs that it’s so suffocating to breathe. I slowly inhaled and exhaled as I looked at him, trying to intimidate him to answer, and all I see is a sad Adonis, but there were no signs of it in his eyes. It was as though there was nothing in it. It was all but a dead sea slowly losing its vitality.

“I understand how you feel, Gale.” I grazed my eyes away from his, and looked at the nothingness from afar. I can’t afford to look at it again, seeing it was my fault it was like this. “But, I also have feelings too. I . . . it’s not . . .” I sighed before looking at him with finality. “I just realized that you’re not the one I should be romantically intertwined with. I just . . . can’t.”

“It’s because you had sex with Kaizer, is it not?” Gale’s quick response fueled fury on those once-dead eyes. He was fuming, his hands, inside those pockets may it be, were clenching and ready to punch probably me, Kaizer, or someone in the vicinity. I was shocked by his conclusion, but I was not given a chance to explain when he continued talking. “It’s because that Kaizer brainwashed you into thinking you love him more than you do to me, that ours were just a mere child’s play, is it not?”

At his words I felt all the remaining romance for him in my jar of memories fell to the ground, breaking into pieces, irreparable it now is. “You’re projecting yourself, Gale.” I stood up and hung the satchel on my right shoulder. “Whatever the truth you may believe, I won’t meddle with. If you think Kaizer and I had sex, go think with all your brain cells, for all so I care. If you think Kaizer brainwashed me, for all so I care! But you know what I care right now? I think the very builder of your façade is one breaking it to ruins.”

As I was about to leave when Gale grabbed the free hand and tried to pull me closer to him. I tried to escape from his grasp but it was no use. I stopped and looked at him, and all I could see is a malfunctioning insecure hotshot. “Maybe we could fix this,” he said, “maybe we could start again? Just . . . don’t leave me like this.” I saw a tear shining from his eyes, probably a reflection from the shining ray of light from the window above. I wasn’t moved anymore. Was I even moved in the first place?

I sighed. I shook my head and slowly remove his clenching on my wrist. God, it did leave a light bruise on my wrist, but it doesn’t matter. As he slumped in front of the door, I squat to get myself at an equal height before messing his hair gently. I couldn’t help but put up a fake smile and said “You’re 23. It’s not the end of the world if I’m not the one you’ll be with in the end. Just take ours as a lesson and let’s move on.”

I sighed as I stood up and looked at those who are currently filming the scene. “What you see, what you hear, when you leave, leave it here. Got it?” They immediately stopped recording and moved on with their lives. I sighed. I guess the public are so enamored with the idea of real-life drama that they don’t go and respect what little private matter those involve in the drama want.

I left Gale there, sitting in front of the classroom door. He was a total mess. But he’s old enough to stand on his own feet and drag himself away from the scene.