I admit I'm a rather carefree vampire. Aside from being awake 24/7, there wasn't much to adjust to and the next thing I know, it has been three months since Nurgis turned me.
He's been missing in action for a month now but I trust that he's alive and well. My instincts tells me that I'd definitely know if something bad happens to him. Maybe it's just my paranoia talking but I'd rather not think hard about it and trust that we'd see each other in the future.
College is a breeze when you don't have the need to sleep. And it's funny how people doesn't suspect anything. They'd see me walking around, under the shade of trees and the campus, pale and looking like I haven't slept in days and would only assume that I've transformed into an automaton fueled by coffee. Nobody asks why I hiss at sunlight. Maybe I was up all night studying so the bright light hurt my eyes. Nobody comments about my sunglasses, even when I wear it indoors, and my hobo look. Maybe my schedule's too hectic right? No time for a quick shower or maybe the water faucet's not running.
But I do take my baths. Something just changed and I can't put my finger to it, but no matter how hard I try I always end up with a haggard look.
And when the topic takes a turn to food, I'm still as normal as everybody else. Let's face it. College dormers are poor as heck. At least most of my classmates are. So if they don't see me eating, it means I can't afford it.
Do I miss eating? I can't tell. It's hard to think about it because I've forgotten how food tastes like. The smells are just smells, most of the time horrible.
But lately I've been reminiscing that one remarkable incident from my childhood. Back then, we had this neighbor who liked to cook. I've never met them but it was the impression I got from eating the food they would give my mom almost every day.
Some people would say that their mom's or dad's cooking was the best. They would fight to death just to defend their parent's cooking. But I was different. My mother was a busy businesswoman and my father was her assistant. She would start barbecuing by the pier at five pm in the afternoon and would usually sell out by three in the morning. Their barbecue was always a hit and I loved it too. We grew up eating barbecue and it's what killed my father. But my mother didn't stop because the business grew bigger until she managed to get a place and hired several workers.
Anyway, back to the neighbor. I was too young back then so I don't remember if we've met or it was just the food that gave me vague images of the person who made it. Coming home from school, I once found food on the table and I immediately knew that it wasn't cooked by my mother. It wasn't in her repertoire. My older brother will only shrug if I ask him and he'd speculate that maybe there's a birthday party next door. As a kid who grew up eating isaw and betamax, those were the most magical food I've ever tasted.
I would always tell my mother how much I liked the food and she would only contort her face like it wasn't anything special. My brother would scoff at me, saying that he couldn't relate at all because it was just some normal dish after all. No need to raise such a fuss. He was a big fan of Jollibee's burger steak so maybe that's why. It ruined his good sense of taste or something, and my younger self would nod like I knew better.
The following days, my mother told me that she told our neighbor about my reaction and our neighbor was glad to be praised like that. Then told my mother that they'd love to share their food with us because they loved cooking and experimenting with recipes so they always end up with excess food in the refrigerator. I wonder if there's also a kid next door. I wonder how it feels, eating good food everyday for the rest of your life.
And then I laughed at my mom back then. I initially thought that she sneered because she was jealous that I liked the neighbor's cooking more than hers.
From then on, I've tasted different kinds of food and those were the best part of my childhood. I missed the feeling of anticipation, thinking about what dish I might meet the next day.
"So that's what happened," I murmured while absentmindedly poking the Mi Goreng in front of me. It's famous in the cafeteria and my roommate loves it so I decided to stock several pouches as a part of my cover. But I actually had no idea what it tastes like.
"What happened?" Champion asked in his just-woke-up voice. Girls would kill to switch places with me and they have, in fact, informed me. He's shirtless and on his stomach with a bad case of bedhead, a dazed look on his face. He's my roommate.
"Talking to myself. Did I wake you?" I asked before closing my Business Math book. When I said I was going to school, I picked a grand-sounding course too, Accountancy, as my pre-Law course. My mother was speechless.
After almost three months of living together, I've learned that the proper way of talking to him would be to stop what I was doing. He would always do the same for me so it would be rude if I don't follow his example.
He lifted his head to shake slowly but buried his cheek on his fluffy pillow again. He's still looking at me, maybe clearing away his head before finally getting up.
"Take it easy, man. I wouldn't want to find you talking to the wall all alone."
I chuckled at the thought. So I was at that level.
"It's not too far-fetched when you think about it. We all have equal chance to go crazy or drop dead."
He sat on his bed and blinked at me several times. When he noticed my coffee mug on the center table, he reached for it and took several gulp.
"I vote for crazy," he murmured as he stood up to go to the bathroom.
I choose death.
I'm only serious with my studies because I can't think of anything better to do with the hours that I used to allocate for sleep. If it's Champion's day-off, I pretend to sleep as long as I can because he stays inside our room all day to study and work on his thesis. He's five years older than me and on his last year as a Mechanical Engineering student.
He's the typical example of a poor man's son clawing his way into a college degree. He has a part-time job, a varsity player and he's good in academics. He would tell me that he's just taking advantage of his good looks because if he happened to look different, his life might have been twice as hard too. I completely agree with him. People willingly give him so many gifts, freebies and favors for a taste of his sought-after attention that it makes me want to beat him up sometimes.
He's already a respectable human being while I look like a hobo with a headful of unruly hair. I admit he makes me so insecure about my looks. I'm fine when I'm alone but when we happen to go out together, it's like he's out walking his fuzzy dog.
Now he's on his way to greatness. But one last spurt before finally celebrating.
"No appetite again?" he asked while flexing his huge biceps in front of the mirror. As if telling me to eat big and grow those rocks on my body. "Too much coffee can really ruin your appetite so try keeping it to a minimum. Don't make it too strong."
"If it's not as black as my conscience it's not coffee," I muttered.
"But think about it. You make five mugs of strong coffee every day. I'm amazed you're not complaining about having stomach ulcer."
"I may look like this but I'm pretty strong."
"Yeah, yeah. But you look worse every time I see you."
"Maybe I got my haggard looks from my absentee father, mom," I told him and he laughed so hard he had to sit down on his bed.
He sounds like my mother that it's hard to take him seriously when he's telling me these things. I used to make fun of him for it but he looks so sincere that I slowly learned to tolerate(and follow) his preaching.
"Do you want me to cook something before I go?" he asked after he recovered from his laughing fit. Just like always I refuse his offer. It's weird that he ask me that because I haven't even seen him cook. He eats out most of the time. He's a busy man.
"You're running late. And I did sleep last night. I just woke up to tell you 'welcome home'," I tried to joke while running my hand on my hair. He's staring so I pretended to eat my noodles like a good kid.
"Hmm."
I know what he's up to. Sometimes when he's home I pretend to sleep and it's so fucking hard to make it convincing when he's staring at my face for an hour just to see if I was really asleep. If only his fans knew how weird he is most of the time.
I wouldn't be narrating this moment without a valid reason. Let's just say that this is a momentous occasion.
Because he said:
"I haven't seen you sleep for real though."
I swallowed the noodles I was pretending to chew.
"I have insomnia, remember?" My hand fiddled with my hair before I scratched the back of my head just to have something to do.
"Hmm. Okay. If you say so," Champion said and continued putting on his uniform. "If I wasn't so sane, I'd think you're a vampire."
He laughed heartily while buttoning his shirt. I swallowed the remaining coffee in my cup while shooting him a look that says he's out of his mind.
But deep inside me, I wanted to laugh with him and admit that he's right.
"Told you. I'm team crazy."
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I hope y'all liked Champ. I love him. He's my favourite character. I love him so much.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
