Just Another Night...

And so I walked into the cafe, with one of the bands practising 'Zombie' for the upcoming battle of the bands. My eyes fell upon the girl who'd called me up earlier, asking me for the usual favor - its my job after all. Earlier I'd been at the Great Hall, doing Bangsawan work. Sometimes I wonder why I got myself into that kind of thing. Often my mind would wander back to Pai, and I realized I only did it because I'd be working with a her, as a friend. Yet, now that she's pulled out, it makes me wonder why I didn't just pull out as well. Maybe it's because I don't have a good reason to- she had a computing project. A major one. And maybe it's because I don't want to leave Brendan to do it all alone. Or maybe it's because I want to be a part of this thing, even if my job isn't exactly the most exciting one around.

Or heck, I think I'm still not the kind of guy who easily says, 'No, I'm not going to that.' As Aisyah accidentally let it slip that day in English class that day, I'm the doormat. I find it so effingly hard to say 'no' to friends. Call it a weakness. Feera wouldn't though. Come to think of it, no one would. Not to me, anyway.

And so, ignoring the crowd of boys watching football at the right side of the cafe (the furthest away from the poorly soundproofed jamming studio), I sat down at the table where Feera, Syat and Farahsyaz were. Syat was working on Maths homework, a look of frustration on her face as she set her pen down sighing 'I hate integration'. Feera and Farahsyaz, who were both busy peering over magazines (both with pictures of Heath Ledger) ignored her plight and continued their conversation about Heath Ledger, and what movie they were going to watch tonight. Seeing that they weren't going to be noticing my presence anytime soon, my eyes flew towards the television screen, and, upon seeing that it wasn't just soccer, it was Malaysian soccer, rolled my eyes and looked in the other direction- towards the long, steel counter where pink plastic backs with styrofoam packets waited for people coming to claim them. Ashraff was standing there, by the toaster, spreading jam on a slice of toast that looked a bit too far gone - more black than it was brown. Seeing the plastic bags reminded me of another reason why I had stopped by the cafe apart from Feera's phone call- food. With my stomach growling, I got up from the white plastic chair and made my way for the unmanned counter and started peering through the doorway behind it into the kitchen, hoping one of the cooks would notice me and come out to take my order.

"Don't bother," Ashraff said nonchalantly. "It's past ten. They don't take orders anymore."

Which was true. Because the cafe closed at 11, and the people started cleaning up the kitchen by then. There were occasions where I got lucky sometimes, and managed to slip in an order for nasi goreng as late as 10.15. All you had to do was ask, and put on a pleading, hungry look. It works better if you're a girl.

"You're saying that because you've asked and they told you they won't cook anymore, or because you're assuming that they won't cook since it's past ten?" I asked, not looking at him.

"I asked."

"Oh." I should have known. The usual greasy smell wasn't wafting from the kitchen anymore- replaced by the fragrant scent of dishwashing soap. Disappointed, I turned towards Ashraff, still standing at the toaster. I contemplated making toast as well, then decided that I wasn't in the mood for it. I then turned towards the metal racks opposite the counter, where buns, popcorn, and other packaged food were up for display.

Deciding that I wasn't in the mood for that either, I walked up to the cashier with an annoyed look on my face as I ordered a can of root beer from the sleepy-looking cashier guy. Seeing the RM2 note I was extracting from my wallet, he put on an equally annoyed look and asked whether I had exact change. Rolling my eyes, I stuffed my left hand back into my pocket and felt around for a fifty-scent coin to accompany the RM1 note I'd replaced the RM2 note for. There was the sound of rattling coins...ah. Time was, when I was in Standard One, I'd love that sound. Now it was just a reminder that the only reason my pockets were ever heavy was because of the coins- not the notes. Having found the fifty-cent coin with my fingers, I dropped it on the counter and walked off.(it was the easiest to find, being the largest coin of all. 10 cent, 5 cent and 1 cent coins all feel the same to me- damn them all for being almost the same size. 20 cent coins get mistaken for... oh wait, RM1 coins don't exist anymore.)

Popping open the can of A&W Root Beer caught Feera's eyes for a moment, then she continued peering over the magazine she had been reading. I tweaked the ring around to pull off the entire tab before dropping it on the table - a habit of mine, I know you don't really have to do it, I just do-, then raised the can to my lips, pouring the sugary (diabetes-inducing), fizzy liquid into my mouth.

Five minutes later, they were still talking about Heath Ledger, and Syat was still doing her Maths homework. Having finished my drink, all that was left for me to do was stare at the can, wondering when they were going to get bored of staying here and head back to their chalets- so I could walk back with them and get the DVDs they wanted from me in my chalet on the way. That was the only reason I'd been called there- really. It was a weekend night, after all. Feera wanted to watch Brokeback Mountain.

No one really calls me up for my company. Everyone wants something.

It used to hurt, somewhat. Then at one point I decided I was just exaggerating, being overdramatic, and so I got over it. Now I've been moving back to being dramatic again, being forced in that general direction by every punch life throws at me. Veritas work. Anis' birthday party. Aqtar's public statement. Not being asked to OU. Being ignored. It's just one thing after another.

Why do I hang out with these people?

It's not like they ever listen to me or acknowledge my existence unless they want something from me.

But then what else can I expect? The thought used to hurt me, because I used to compare these people to the friends I had back home. The ones who were there for me if I needed them. Guess I expected too much when I expected my new friends here to be like that to me. Then lately I've been thinking that things have been changing so much. Even the ones back home are turning that way now- into the kind of friend that, you know, is only around to have fun or to get something from you. Or maybe they've always been that way. Maybe I've just been too blind to notice.

I hate people. I hate people so much.

I raised the can up to my lips, knowing full well that it was empty. Having reminded myself of that fact, I set the can back on the table.

Or maybe I'm the one who doesn't reach out.

Could be.

But then I don't want to reach out. I want people to just know I exist, and I just want them to for once, be able to tell what I'm feeling without me having to tell them. Like Nicholas, that night, I guess. Or Khairul, back then. It's selfish- possibly daft, I know, but I just don't want to prove to myself that I'm so goddamned weak. I know I am. I don't want to be reminded of that fact when I come up to Oz and say, 'I need someone to talk to.' He's only needed to talk to me once, and I've run to him about twelve times that number. Guess I'm feeling ashamed. Why can't I just run back to the people I don't feel ashamed of confronting?

Because you're not the person who does that anymore. They're not the people who listen anymore.

Everyone's changed. For the better. For the worst. Love. Hate. Success. Failure. Laughter. Tears. Time and distance. It all chips away at the block of wood, carving it into the form that the end product will take. Best friends become good friends. Good friends become friends. Friends become acquaintences. The rest is just what you look at in an old dusted photo album, years from now.

We don't choose to stop caring about the people who leave us behind, neither to they choose to stop caring about us.

Life just spins that way.

Seeing that they still haven't taken any notice of me, I sigh and ask Feera when we're leaving. "Oh. Right now," she answers, and they get up, packing their things in their sling bags, ready to walk off as they now excitedly discuss what movie they're going to watch tonight. While Feera wants Brokeback Mountain, Farahsyaz isn't too excited at the thought of gay cowboys. Deciding to just see what I have, we leave together, climbing the steps up to the main walkway. Ashraff and Nik have joined us out of nowhere, and now they're having an excited discussion about the upcoming Battle of the Bands.

Out of choice, I walk behind them, feeling like I'm not a part of that world.

It's silly, really. It's not like they'd shoo me away if I tried to join in. I could be a part of it if I wanted to...right?

I start talking to Tratto. It doesn't matter. They won't notice. They never do.

Would it kill them, I wonder, to just notice that I'm not okay- that I haven't been over the past week? The same rules from home don't apply here, it seems. Maybe I just suck at the new rules. Or maybe I'm choosing not to learn them- because some part deep down inside of me wants to be miserable, wants to be unnoticed.

Because I've always been that way.

Why do I deserve to have it any different now?

Tratto tells me that I'm a fool. That boarding school was a completely different thing. I was kept ostracized because I didn't fit in there. I do fit in here. People don't call me a showoff whenever I speak English. People understand when I talk about books and novels. This is where I should deserve to fit in.

Yet I think I'm afraid of it, still, even when I know that I shouldn't be. These people, these wonderful people are the people I've waited my whole life to be with. The circle I was looking for. All that it takes now is just to stop hiding in the shadows and take that place.

We reach the walkway outside my chalet. I take out the DVDs they ask for and hand it to them. They say goodnight, and walk on towards their chalets.

I ask Feera if she's going to KLCC tomorrow as she walks off. She answers 'no'. I tell her that I am, and ask if she wants to borrow Lenna until I come back in the evening. (She wanted to borrow it tonight, but I needed to use it to watch 'Creep' with my chaletmates)

She beams proudly and says she's already borrowed one from someone else.

"Oh."

I say 'goodnight' to her again and walk back to my chalet alone, fighting the paranoid delusions clawing their way at my head.