It was a very hot summer afternoon. The teacher was explaining something when suddenly the bell rang, indicating the period was over. The teacher ended the lecture and began picking up her things from the table. The moment she stepped outside the room, the class erupted into chaos.
Some students stood up to stretch their stiff bodies, others turned around to talk to their friends. In a jiffy, the whole class was filled with a medley of noises—walking, talking, eating, pens colliding, desks tapping. Everyone was doing their own thing, like a band of horses let out of their shelter to graze.
Amid the noise and crowd, one boy sat quietly on the second-last bench of the last row, beside the window.
The boy didn't have a particularly muscular build, nor was he too skinny—he looked like someone who wasn't interested in physical activity. His hair was black and slightly longer than average. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, the kind you get from not sleeping for nights. He was covering his ears, lying on his desk with his head down, trying to block out the annoying sounds surrounding him.
Can't they just calm down for a little bit? I just want to sleep. I haven't had any in the last two nights. That web novel really kept me hooked. If only the ending had been good, it might've been worth the sleepless nights.
It started with an action-packed storyline and great character development, but why the hell did the MC have to die for his lover? They could've picked any other reason, but they went with that rip-off setting. After all his hard work and sacrifices for his goal, he died for a woman—and even he knew that after dying, he couldn't meet her again. Reading stuff like that really makes me mad.
If only someone had warned me, I could've saved those two nights and spent them on something actually worth reading.
The boy was lost in his own thoughts, unaware that a slap was on its way—until it landed.
"Ouch! What the heck!?"
"Hey, it wasn't that hard. Don't be a crybaby."
"Just shut up."
His name is Sam—my best, and only, friend for the last three years. Want to know why? Because there aren't many guys with the same interests as me. Sam likes the same things I do: reading novels and manga, watching anime, and playing video games. Except, unlike me, he's good at studies, plays sports, and even has a girlfriend.
Well, that's the last thing I'll ever be jealous of.
The only thing I love is stories—be it through games, books, or any other medium. And any theme is fine, except romance. That's trash. And I'm mad at Sam because he made me read one. Yep, he's the one who forced me to read that novel, even after knowing the ending.
I was just about to scold him for recommending it when he started talking.
Just for context, I'm not good at cutting people off when they're talking. And Sam knows this—he abuses this weakness to no end.
"Hey Dev, do you know what happened today? You won't believe it. Amy and I broke up."
Again, I thought.
"I didn't even do anything! She started fighting with me just because I gave a highlighter to Neha. I know she told me not to, but how could I lie when…"
That was the last thing I heard. The next period was a substitution. The teacher didn't show up, which is pretty normal, but that just gave Sam another excuse to babble about his love life.
And just so you know, it's not serious—they've broken up more than ten times this month. I stopped counting after that.
And that's one of the reasons I hate romance. I have the best example sitting right next to me. Relationships just make your life full of restrictions: Don't do that. Don't talk to her. Don't go there. I'm someone who values and loves his freedom above everything else. That's why I don't want to get into all that stuff.
The same thing happens every day, and at the end of the day, he's still walking home with her.
His rambling has become a part of my daily life. It's like they come up with a new excuse to break up every day. And at the end of all that, he always asks what he should do—like it's a custom.
And my answer is always the same:
"Don't drag me into this stuff. I'm a guy with zero experience in this, throughout my entire 19 years of life."
"Dev, you don't understand."
"No, Sam. More like—I don't want to understand. I'm just happy as I am."
"Just watch your step, buddy. One day you'll fall in love and understand what kind of feeling it is."
"Like hell I'll ever get entangled in such a waste of time. I don't even have time to catch up on the latest chapters and episodes of the series I'm following."
"You'll see, Dev. And when you do, and need help, come to me. I'll help you—even if no one else will."
"Yeah, sure. Like hell I'll ever need that kind of help."
(But who in the world would've thought how quickly a clueless boy like me would swallow his own ignorant words.)
My lectures finished around 2 p.m. It takes about 30 minutes to reach my apartment from college, with all the metro and bus rides. I always fall asleep right after getting home.
I live in a small apartment with one room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. The walls are old, and the paint is worn down. I got a pretty sweet deal on it.
Sleeping is something I love with all my heart. After all the exhausting travel and brain-crushing classes, sleep disconnects me from reality and sends me into the world of dreams. For someone like me, with an overactive imagination, dreams are like an open canvas. I can do and experience everything that's impossible in the real world.
Reality sucks for people like me who want to get lost in imagination. Dreams are the next best thing the creator could have given us.
Usually, I dream about having a fight or a deep discussion with one of my favorite characters, or reliving a story I love—this time, as its main character.
But today was different.
There was no one. Just a beautiful lake, and a giant tree on the other side. I've heard dreams are just compilations of old memories and experiences, but the scene ahead of me wasn't anything I'd ever seen. Still, it was so beautiful, I just kept staring at it.
Then, suddenly, a voice pulled me out of my trance—a sweet, melodic voice. A girl's voice, as soft as a nightingale's song. It didn't sound like any language I knew, but it felt happy. Like a bird taking its first flight, or a baby learning to walk.
I couldn't help myself—I started walking toward the sound, like my legs had a will of their own.
I kept walking, step after step, until I reached the other side of the lake.
Under the giant tree was the silhouette of a girl, sitting on a rock. She was singing like she was the only one in the world. Like there was no one to interrupt her, and no one to hear her—but she sang anyway.
Then, a strange noise interrupted. She stopped singing.
I felt a sudden urgency, a desperate need to talk to her. I opened my mouth to speak…
And then I woke up.