Each day that passes by, the words scarved on the wooden desk are slowly filling up its entirety. I caressed the table, grinning at the roughness of every letter in my palm. It reminds me of the slightest disobedience ... and of having someone to talk to even in an unconventional way. Well, at least I have someone to talk to. Unlike before when I had to wait for the moment with someone who would picque my interest based on the run of conversation that we have. I couldn't help but look back at my classmates.

Almost all of them are noisy, confident and shameless. It's not that I hate them. In fact, I also want to jive in but I just couldn't keep up with their energy. The quite ones can only be counted on my fingers. The problem is, I could not match their interest about their favorite movies. I'm not really the type who likes to watch series or movies. I would rather stare at the wall the whole day. The music they listen to is not my cup of tea either. Their humor is not the kind of humor I would like to laugh at. So here I am, sitting alone on the side. They don't mind me, anyways. I'm cool with them. It's just a matter of understanding personal space. I sighed a few times, leaning back in the chair with my legs raised on the table. That was not the case with my classmates because they were used to it and there were only a few of us left.

We have our own worlds during vacant. I will hang out here first. There are still ten minutes before the next subject. Miss Reyes, who didn't leave our classroom yet, is frowning while typing on her laptop. The continuous taps of my fingertips at the wooden desk bring a forgotten thought. I sat up and searched for what had been written on the desk for the past days, curious if another word had followed. It did. The frequent encounters I have had with Rico temporarily made me forgot about it. . My breath heaves. A smile appears on my lips.

‘Paper. Under the table.’

My forehead furrowed. This one seems like a code to decipher, only that the clue is explicit - something even a newbie would understand.

Even when I was confused, I tried to search underneath the desk. I found a crumpled piece of paper. Immediately, I opened it.

‘Suit yourself, then. You’re gonna say hello to the detention room soon. ’

The day he wrote that, it was the same day we had to paint a wall. Yesterday. Whoever you are, you are late for the news.

I grip on the pen and write my respond just one space below the words I've just read.

‘IDC! I’m having fun ~ ’

And just like that, a form of communication begins. It's been two weeks when we started talking like this. Because the desk is already full of vandals, we unconsciously quite agreed to just write in the paper sheets.

Actually, it's more convenient for me. I don't have to exert such effort to carve only few words on the table anymore. I’ll just insert the paper in a corner under the dex, done. I am always the one who keep the papers. Whenever a sheet is already filled up, I am always the one who tends to use a clear one. After it fills up, I will change the clean paper again until it fills up again.

Everything we wrote in the past few days, was just in my bag. I feel like I'm the only one making the effort and he's just riding what my trip is. I always do the tease. The other reprimands but does the same violation.

Nonetheless, it eased the isolation I felt. We talked about a lot of things. I've also come to find out that he was a guy. I was shocked and confused at first, for the pen I've got the first time I wrote was quite girlish. He said that it wasn't hers.

I didn't know what to call him so I asked for his name, but he didn't want to tell me. He wrote, ‘for privacy purposes’ which made me roll my eyes. Instead, I asked for his nickname.

‘Just call me Ikong’

I remember how I laughed hard after I read that. I wrote about how bad his nickname sounded. I even pointed out how it resembles monkey species so much when you read it.

‘What are you laughing about? It's a common Ilocano nickname our Lolo and Lola used to call us. Anyway, what's yours? And how’s your day? ’

I was blown away after reading the first sentence. Pick him up, I feel. I can't help but smile at his simple questions. It's like a bell ringing and reminding me that I am not alone in this conversation. That I’m not the only one lifting to prolong it. He's also curious about me.

‘Common? It's just you, duh ~ You can call me Eshang, hehe ’

There was also a time when I ranted about Rico. I didn’t realize then that I had already covered an entire yellow paper.

It was full of swearing complaints, and words tinged with annoyance because it was impossible for me to avoid him completely unless graduation was over.

Two weeks have passed, meaning, two weeks of avoiding Rico as well. Before I wrote that rant, I would always caught his eyes on me whenever I approach the St. Angelus Academy's gate. But because I was avoiding him, I was only directed to the guard that checks if I am in complete uniform. After that I would quickly run inside. But after I had put the yellow paper under the desk, Rico didn't even threw glances at me anymore which is intriguing.

It was as if he was the one avoiding me. My eyes rolled because of the thought. Maybe this guy told Rico about it?! Because until now, I haven't received a response yet. But if he did tell it to Rico, we could've met inside the detention room for vandalizing. No. It's vague. Maybe it was just a coincidence?

I was thinking about it the whole class period. I tried to formulate theories but to no avail, I still could not form a solid conclusion. I also thought of finding out who is the one writing here but my head just hurts at the thought of possible names.

“Freesia!”

I lift my head, meeting the irritated face of a girl classmate. I raise my eyebrow. “Why?”

“You didn’t clean in the previous week. You are one of the cleaners today. Help your group mates!”

I bit my lip when I looked at the clock. It's 12:10 already. It's only twenty minutes and the students from the afternoon shift will be here anytime soon.

While I get the dust pan and the broom, I didn't notice that the other cleaners are slowly leaving the room until I hear someone chuckling.

“Hey, where are you going? Help me here! ”

I pointed the broom at them. They're throwing me mischievous grins.

“You can do that. Fighting. Bye!”

And with that, they all left me. I didn't mean to escape from them. It was that I was just making sure not to see Rico. Shit, that guy is always the reason. Maybe I should normalize blaming him for everything.

But I don't want to be so toxic.

I shrug my shoulders off, the same way I shake those thoughts away. I started sweeping even though there was very little dirt. Then I adjusted the position of the chairs and desks as well.

I was about to get my bag when the door shrieked open. Those ... familiar ... low steps ... are creeping in my ears.

I turned around. I halt when I saw a familiar face and built I was trying to hide from for two weeks. I can barley breath as I watch him walking towards the front seat. Right, Alvarez! Letter A, so he should be in the front seat.

Why am I low-key hoping that he would sit on my seat?

Slowly, he glances at me. I clutch on the straps of my bag.

"Not leaving yet?" he asks in his usual low baritone voice.

He looked down and looked at me more. My knees, even when I don't intend to feel so, turn weak. This is not good for me. I averted my eyes.

"I'm leaving now."

I shut the door after I went out. I leaned there then. Why is this organ inside my chest beating so fast?