I Don't Like The World, I Only Like You

Chapter 2: He who was my Deskmate Part 6-11

Chapter 2: He who was my Deskmate Part 6-11

006

Mr. F’s voice was extremely melodious, and he was able to pronounce the words accurately despite being from the Southern part of China. As such, the teacher would always ask him to help record the audio required for listening comprehension for term assessment. Due to his “special position”, I started to think of some crooked ideas.

“Could you slow down your pace when you’re reading the correct answer?”

“Can’t.”

“Nobody will ever find out, and you don’t have to provide hints for every question! Just pick a few difficult ones.”

“Can’t.”

“I promise to work harder and to revise promptly next time, so please just help me this time round!”

“Can’t.”

Angered, I sniped at him, “Are you voice recorder?”

“No.”

“Do you really bear to leave me in the lurch?”

“I’m not going to help you to cheat.”

I felt extremely aggrieved, “But my mum threatened to ground me at home should I fail to perform for English in the upcoming exams.”

We had previously promised each other to go barbequing during summer break.

He lowered his head and continued reading his books, as if he hadn’t heard a single word of what I was saying.

Who knew that on the day of the exams, this person would righteously recite aloud in an extremely serious tone –

“C. Show ——- her ——- the ——- way ——- to ——- the ——-hospital ——-”

At that time, the term “Slap One’s Face” had yet to be invented.

Once, he was down with a cold which he couldn’t seem to recover from despite a long period of time. I was extremely worried and wanted to bring him medicine, but I felt shy about it. As such, the pure me thought of an extremely roundabout manner to accomplish my objectives – upon reaching home, I took a long, cold shower, and succeeded in getting a cold.

The second day, I wore a mask to class and passed him some cold medicine, while continuously stressing that I only bought the medicine for him out of “convenience”.

He asked, “How come you caught a cold? Did you get infected by me?”

I shook my head, not daring to say the truth, as I was afraid that I would be mocked to death.

Who would ever guess that this person’s cold would recover by the next day, whereas I continued sneezing every single day, and lived my life in a daze for a month.

Now that I think about it, I could cry at the stupidity of my thoughts at that time.

007

When the new school term started, Mr. F and I no longer shared the same desk. I was terribly sad on the day we separated; I even cried in secret, feeling as though the sky was collapsing on me. I was very shy and modest then, not like how I am now, sociable and open. He was also not someone who would approach others on his own volition. As a result, we hardly spoke after we separated.

Our class would head to the experiment labs once every two weeks for our Chemistry Practical. The seating arrangement in the experiment labs was identical to our seating arrangement during the first school term – this meant that it was only during Chemistry Practical that I had the opportunity to sit next to him.

As such, I would be in an exuberant mood every time I saw “Chemistry Practical” on my timetable. I would even dig out my best uniform the night before, looking forward to going to school with high hopes.

Once, the school distributed a questionnaire to the students, asking us about our favourite teacher and our favourite subject. Everyone else wrote Mathematics, Languages, or Geography. I was the only person wrote “Chemistry Practical” as a joke of sorts.

I headed to the teacher’s office during break time. There, the class representative was compiling the results of questionnaire. He told me that many people had answered “English” as their favourite subject; this was likely because our form teacher was our English teacher.

“There were actually two people who wrote Chemistry Practical.” He said.

“Two?!” I raised my voice in surprise.

He nodded his head, “Yes, two.”

I remember how I felt then – Boom. It was as though a small firework exploded in my heart.

008

The second year of High School meant that we were required to separate into different faculties; as a result, everyone started to scribble in autograph books prior to the separation. Writing in an autograph book can be a rather ambiguous activity – words that you couldn’t bring yourself to say aloud could be written down, and there were a few couples in my class who got together after one party confessed in another’s autograph book.

I too, purchased an autograph book and invited the entire class to write in it before naturally placing the autograph in front of Mr. F.

Initially, he was rather unwilling to write in the book, and complained that I must have too much time on my hands; he did, however, relent after my constant wheedling and pleading. “Alright, leave it here. I’ll write in it when I have the time.”

However, he was constantly occupied. It was only when the second year of High School was nearing its end before he finally remembered to return the autograph book to me. With great expectations, I opened the autograph book gingerly – only to discover that this fellow had only left 5 words for me : Study hard, don’t be lazy.

I nearly choked to death in anger.

I only discovered this fellow’s sneaky intentions subsequently – because my autograph book was with him, I had to frequently approach him on my own volition. He could also slowly take the time to scan through the messages left by my male classmates; only after ascertaining that there were no signs of any “villainous relationship” did he, with a flourish of his pen, write a few perfunctory lines and handed the book back to me.

009

After being separated into different faculties, I chose to study Arts whilst Mr. F chose to study Science. Mr. F thus ended up in the same class as my brother.

In order to save time, Mr. F’s mother helped him rent an apartment near school. Subsequently, my brother also moved into the apartment and the two geniuses started the cohabitation phase in their lives. I visit the apartment occasionally, helping my brother with the washing of his clothes.

There was once I went to the apartment as per my usual routine to help my brother collect his clothes for washing. As both Mr. F and my brother had revision class till 9PM that day, there was nobody at home when I arrived.

However, it was pouring heavily when school ended. As I do not have a habit of brining my umbrella along with me, I was drenched to the bone. Since there was nobody in the apartment, I decided to shower on reaching the apartment, and conveniently grabbed my brother’s T-shirt which was hanging in the bathroom.

After that, I went into my brother’s room to read some books; given the heavy rain, I thought that it would be better if I waited for the rain to lighten before leaving. After a period of time had passed, I walked out of the room with a cup in hand. Just as I was about to pour some water, the bathroom door behind me opened with a bang.

I turned back, and saw Mr. F.

As he had just finished showering, water droplets were still dripping from his hair. But the main point was that he only wore a pair of trousers – he had walked out with the top half of his body naked and bare!!

My eyes saw the water droplets dripping slowly from his hair onto his bare chest, before gradually snaking down the rest of his body. I instantly had difficulty breathing.

Conversely, Mr. F just looked at me calmly for an extended period of time. Generally, a normal human being faced with such a situation would at least ask “Why are you here?” or “When did you arrive?” in order to reduce the awkwardness experienced by both parties. However, Mr. F didn’t do any of that – instead, he behaved as though he wasn’t strutting around bare-chested; he walked right up to me and dumped his towel on my head, asking, “You washed up?”

Dumbfounded, I nodded slowly, “Yes.”

He took the cup from me and helped me fill the cup with water before returning it to me. “You brother is only due to return slightly later, so I’ll send you home first.”

Still stuck in a dazed state, I responded, “Okay.”

Then, as if I was sleepwalking, I returned to the room with my shaky legs, with a cup in hand and his towel still on my head.

Years later, on recalling this particular incident, I chided him, “You were intentionally bullying me then, weren’t you?”

He rolled his eyes at me, “You’re blaming me? That T-shirt that you were wearing was mine.”

Me: “….”

010

As part of the Sports Day celebration organized by my school, I was appointed to participate in the relay race. Just as I was warming up, I met Mr. F. He promised to come support me since I was so tensed up. I pointed to the spectator stand beside the starting point and told him, “Could both you and my brother stand there during the race?”

He agreed.

I assembled with the other competitors before the race started, and glanced around in an attempt to locate both of them – only to discover that both of them were nowhere to be found! I asked the surrounding students where they were. They informed me that the teacher had previously asked the competitors for the high jump to assemble together.

The gun rang out, signaling the start of the race. The entire stadium was extremely chaotic, with incessant shouts of support ringing out from the spectator stands. My brain was extremely befuddled, and I was so anxious I could feel my stomach clenching up in pain. I was the second runner in the relay race, and just as the first runner was about to pass me the baton, I looked at the spectator stand out of habit. At that very moment, I thought I was hallucinating – there he was on the spectator stand, at the precise location which I had pointed out earlier.

Our eyes met. In that moment, I felt at peace.

Later on, he commented on his surprise; that, despite the anxiety of the moment, I could actually jump up and wave at him enthusiastically. But I don’t recall that at all – I only recall the happiness that engulfed me when I saw him standing there. Come to think of it, its slightly odd. When I was young, I wasn’t as happy as I am now; I rarely harbored any hopes due to my fear of disappointment. But I trusted him. I really trusted him. Nobody could ever bring me such a great sense of safety like he does.

Subsequently, I found out that he didn’t even pass the first stage whilst participating in the High Jump event. I asked him whether he did it on purpose, and he told me that I was thinking too much.

011

Mr. F accompanied me the very first time I watched a ballet performance. As the lead ballet dancer was Mr F’s mother, he went backstage to meet his mother after the performance, whilst I simply followed. Mr. F pointed at me and said by way of introduction, “Mum, this is my deskmate Joey.”

As it was the first time I met his mother, I was especially nervous (even though we only shared a pure platonic deskmate relationship at that point in time). I wanted to say “Hello auntie, congratulations on your successful performance.” In the end, my brain failed me, and I blurted out, “Hey mum, congratulations on your successful performance!”

Everyone was stunned momentarily before bursting out into fits of laughter. I just wanted to find a hole which I could hide in.

The next day I secretly asked Mr. F what his mother thought about me. Mr. F tried to keep a straight face, “Your mum thinks that you’re pretty cute.”

Once again, I wanted to find a hole in which I could hide.

At that time, nobody knew that it was only a matter of time before I would really address her as “Mum”.