Chapter 2: He who was my Deskmate Part 6-11
006
Mr. F’s voice was extrely lodious, 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 assessnt. Due to his “special position”, I started to think of so 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 ti, so please just help this ti round!”
“Can’t.”
Angered, I sniped at him, “Are you voice recorder?”
“No.”
“Do you really bear to leave in the lurch?”
“I’m not going to help you to cheat.”
I felt extrely aggrieved, “But my mum threatened to ground at ho should I fail to perform for English in the upcoming exams.”
We had previously promised each other to go barbequing during sumr 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 extrely serious tone –
“C. Show ——- her ——- the ——- way ——- to ——- the ——-hospital ——-”
At that ti, 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 ti. I was extrely worried and wanted to bring him dicine, but I felt shy about it. As such, the pure thought of an extrely roundabout manner to accomplish my objectives – upon reaching ho, I took a long, cold shower, and succeeded in getting a cold.
The second day, I wore a mask to class and passed him so cold dicine, while continuously stressing that I only bought the dicine for him out of “convenience”.
He asked, “How co you caught a cold? Did you get infected by ?”
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 ti.
007
When the new school term started, Mr. F and I no longer shared the sa desk. I was terribly sad on the day we separated; I even cried in secret, feeling as though the sky was collapsing on . I was very shy and modest then, not like how I am now, sociable and open. He was also not soone who would approach others on his own volition. As a result, we hardly spoke after we separated.
Our class would head to the experint labs once every two weeks for our Chemistry Practical. The seating arrangent in the experint labs was identical to our seating arrangent during the first school term – this ant 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 ti I saw “Chemistry Practical” on my titable. 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 ti. There, the class representative was compiling the results of questionnaire. He told 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 rember how I felt then – Boom. It was as though a small firework exploded in my heart.
008
The second year of High School ant 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 ti 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 ti.”
However, he was constantly occupied. It was only when the second year of High School was nearing its end before he finally rembered to return the autograph book to . With great expectations, I opened the autograph book gingerly – only to discover that this fellow had only left 5 words for : 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 ti to scan through the ssages 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 .
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 sa class as my brother.
In order to save ti, Mr. F’s mother helped him rent an apartnt near school. Subsequently, my brother also moved into the apartnt and the two geniuses started the cohabitation phase in their lives. I visit the apartnt occasionally, helping my brother with the washing of his clothes.
There was once I went to the apartnt 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 ho when I arrived.
However, it was pouring heavily when school ended. As I do not have a habit of brining my umbrella along with , I was drenched to the bone. Since there was nobody in the apartnt, I decided to shower on reaching the apartnt, 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 so 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 ti had passed, I walked out of the room with a cup in hand. Just as I was about to pour so water, the bathroom door behind 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 calmly for an extended period of ti. 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 and dumped his towel on my head, asking, “You washed up?”
Dumbfounded, I nodded slowly, “Yes.”
He took the cup from and helped fill the cup with water before returning it to . “You brother is only due to return slightly later, so I’ll send you ho 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 then, weren’t you?”
He rolled his eyes at , “You’re blaming ? That T-shirt that you were wearing was mine.”
: “….”
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 t Mr. F. He promised to co support 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 inford 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 extrely chaotic, with incessant shouts of support ringing out from the spectator stands. My brain was extrely 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 the baton, I looked at the spectator stand out of habit. At that very mont, I thought I was hallucinating – there he was on the spectator stand, at the precise location which I had pointed out earlier.
Our eyes t. In that mont, I felt at peace.
Later on, he comnted on his surprise; that, despite the anxiety of the mont, 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 when I saw him standing there. Co 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 disappointnt. But I trusted him. I really trusted him. Nobody could ever bring 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 that I was thinking too much.
011
Mr. F accompanied the very first ti I watched a ballet performance. As the lead ballet dancer was Mr F’s mother, he went backstage to et his mother after the performance, whilst I simply followed. Mr. F pointed at and said by way of introduction, “Mum, this is my deskmate Joey.”
As it was the first ti I t his mother, I was especially nervous (even though we only shared a pure platonic deskmate relationship at that point in ti). I wanted to say “Hello auntie, congratulations on your successful performance.” In the end, my brain failed , and I blurted out, “Hey mum, congratulations on your successful performance!”
Everyone was stunned montarily 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 . 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 ti, nobody knew that it was only a matter of ti before I would really address her as “Mum”.
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