When the bell finally rang, the entire classroom exhaled in relief, chairs scraping across the floor as students rushed out before the teacher could assign anything extra. I packed my books slowly, letting the noise fade around me until the room felt slightly emptier, slightly calmer, like the world had given me a moment to breathe.
Lunch break in winter always felt quieter to me; the hallways were colder, and students tended to gather in clusters near the cafeteria, leaving the upper floors vacant. I preferred that emptiness. I preferred the stillness it offered—
a place where no one demanded anything from me.
So, like always, I headed toward the terrace.
The stairway leading up was dim, lit only by a flickering bulb that hummed with the leftover electricity of an old building. My breath fogged gently in front of me with every step, the cold air brushing against my lips and drying them slightly. Somewhere downstairs, someone was laughing too loudly; somewhere else, someone complained about the food. All of it felt distant, almost muted.
But halfway up the staircase, a noise cut through the air—
the sharp click of a lighter.
I paused.
Just before the terrace door, on the small landing area where seniors usually skipped class, I saw them.
Sen Jian, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his fingers,
his arm wrapped casually around his girlfriend's waist,
pulling her a little too close,
laughing at something one of his friends said.
The group of five formed their own small universe—
loud, warm, chaotic—
a stark contrast to the cold hallway.
Jian exhaled smoke slowly, jaw relaxed, eyes half-lidded, smile crooked in that charming way he didn't even realize he possessed. His girlfriend giggled softly, fixing his sleeve. His friends shoved each other around, teasing him openly.
For a moment, I walked normally, intending to pass quietly and continue to the terrace.
But then his eyes lifted.
They met mine.
And the shift was immediate.
His laughter stopped mid-breath,
the casual smile wiped clean from his mouth,
his entire posture stiffening as if someone had poured cold water down his spine.
The annoyance that flashed across his face wasn't simple irritation—
it was something tangled:
shame from the morning,
ego bruised,
old resentment,
new confusion.
His friend, a tall guy with dyed brown hair, noticed the shift instantly and smirked.
"Who's that?" he asked, following Jian's line of sight.
Another grabbed Jian's shoulder, joking,
"Oye, he bothering you? Want me to teach him manners?"
Jian didn't answer.
Not yes.
Not no.
He didn't even look away.
He just stood there with his girlfriend tucked under his arm,
his eyes locked on mine,
jaw clenched,
breath coming out slightly faster than before—
as if my presence scraped against something raw inside him.
His silence was enough.
His friend stepped forward, cracking his knuckles with unnecessary theatrics.
"So?" he said loudly, stopping right in front of me.
"Why were you staring at him? Huh?"
I remained where I was,
my face calm,
my expression steady.
"I wasn't staring," I replied, voice level as ever.
"I was walking."
The boy snorted.
"Walking? With that expression? Oye, don't think you're special just because you act all silent and classy."
Another joined in behind him,
"Yeah, you think you're better than him? Than us?"
Their words rolled off me like cold wind off glass.
I didn't answer.
Silence is its own kind of response.
The boy stepped closer, irritation rising at my lack of reaction.
"Talk properly," he snapped, lifting his hand, palm open—
going for a slap he thought I'd be too timid to avoid.
But I didn't move.
I didn't flinch.
My eyes just lifted to his, still calm, still quiet, still unafraid.
And right then—
a voice echoed down the hallway.
Warm.
Smooth.
Annoyingly playful.
"Ah, there you are, Wei."
All five of them turned.
A boy walked toward us,
hands in his pockets,
wearing a half-smile that held equal amounts of mischief and charm.
He was taller than me by almost an inch,
hair slightly tousled,
eyes sharp with intelligence and amusement.
He stopped beside me, leaned slightly closer, and said in a tone he never used with anyone but me:
"I've been looking everywhere. Lunch is going to get cold, you know.
I even tried something new today—don't break my heart by ignoring it."
His voice was light, teasing, playful enough that a few students passing by turned to stare.
I didn't smile—
I rarely did—
but my voice softened just slightly,
the way it never did with anyone else.
"Let's go," I said quietly.
"I'm hungry."
The shift in tone was small.
But undeniable.
Jian saw it.
His expression twisted—
not just anger,
but something sharp and defensive,
something like the beginning of jealousy that he didn't understand yet.
His friends looked confused.
His girlfriend blinked at him.
Before anyone could say more,
my friend rested a casual hand on my shoulder and tugged me gently away.
"Come on, Wei. Don't waste time with stray dogs.
Your lunch is waiting."
I didn't look back.
But I felt Jian's eyes burning into my back,
hot and cold at the same time,
filled with irritation he couldn't explain,
and frustration that only grew the more I disappeared up the stairs.
That was the first time
someone stood between Jian and me.
And ironically…
that was the moment
Jian started noticing me even more.
To be continued...