Serotonin - Drabbles for Dreary Days

The Shy And The Troubled

Omkaara Singh Oberoi knew how to make an entrance. He had lived his life large and dramatic, something that made him  someone people noticed as soon as he walked in a room. And yet as he stood in front of the Literature class, the one place he had dreamed of going to, the one place he had fought to get to, he hesitated.

He was not the Literature kind of guy. He was loud, shallow and most times, too drunk for eloquent words. Which is what made his dreams so silly.

He wanted to write, because writing made him forget that his father's business was going under, that his sister's husband was sleeping around and throwing the fact in her face and that his mother was two steps away from divorcing his father. It made him connect instead, with his deepest feelings and desires.

"I am sorry, are you lost?" A voice asked him from his left and he turned around and walked away. Of course, what was he thinking?

Nerds do not like people that look like him. The earring alone would send them into a heart attack. The long hair would probably only drive his teachers to give him F's.

He walked and walked until he reached a classroom with people that looked more like him. Hipsters and troubled kids, what kind of classes do they take, Omkaara wondered as his eyes searched for a sign to indicate the class.

A tap on his shoulder made him turn his searching eyes onto a hoodied fidgety figure looking down as the seemingly feminine hand patted his shoulder to get his attention.

Omkaara frowned, "Can I help you?"

"I am sor-" the (presumably) girl fisted her hand as if she was fighting some invisible ghost. After a minute of her struggling and him wondering if he was supposed to call someone for her, the girl finally sighed, squared her shoulders and looked up.

Hazel eyes, troubled in a way different from him, shone  beneath the hood.

"Sorry, saying words are hard for me. I am fine with paper but people- You don't need to know that."

Now that was something Omkaara had never struggled with. He had been attending high end parties since he was out of diapers. Being quite was not an option when the entire ballroom looked at you like they were waiting to latch onto one imperfection of yours and tear you to shreds.

"I can't say I relate but go on." When she still didn't reply he added, "You're doing a good job right now. If only you could tell me why you tapped me?"

"You looked like you were about to go inside the Literature room. So, I was wondering if I maybe," she awkwardly made a few hand gestures, "you know creeped you out."

Omkaara let out a chuckle. "Oh no no. I was just self sabotaging."

Her eyes widened but she remained silent.

"So, you have social anxiety?" He tried to change the subject as he studied her features.

She only widened her hazel eyes more, nervously tucking in a strand of her long, curly black hair as her white sneakers tapped the ground in a perfect rhythm.

"Hey I told you I am a self sabotaging nuthead, you need to give me some dirt on you too. Only to be fair?" He pleaded playfully.

"You didn't say nuthead." She pointed out instead.

"That was implied wasn't it?"

"I can see why you took Literature. You have a way with your words." She smiled, kind of. Her lips didn't tilt but her eyes crinkled a little.

That expression deserved a name of its own. It was that beautiful.

"I don't look like it though."

"Appearances lie." She shrugged.

"Actually, I am exactly like I look. Troubled kid with a dysfunctional family."

"Then, you already have a story to tell." She did that eye smile again.

"I go through girls faster than I go through cars."

When she looked confused he added, "My mom's rich. Dad was too but not anymore."

"So girls are staying around more?"

He laughed again. "Yeah they are. Cause there are fewer to go through."

She knew he was only joking, he knew that just as she shook her head. "Fewer stories to tell? Is that why you chickened out?"

"That and the fact that I feel dumb."

"Trust me. All of the Literature class are sweethearts. They'd probably enjoy your charm just as much as all the girls you go through." She gave him a reassuring look as she took a step to side step him.

"Aren't you going to class?" He asked when she stepped in the opposite direction of the Literature class as she crossed him.

"I am." She gestured to the sign above the classroom Omkaara had been observing, as she entered the class throwing him a real smile this time.

Theaterical Arts.

Of course, that's why she looked so expressive.

"Hey!" Omkaara called out just as her figure was disappearing from his view. "Who should I thank for pulling my head out of my ass in the acknowledgement of my first book?"

"You'll know." She mouthed as she turned into the classroom and away from his line of sight.

He somehow knew she'd be a big enough star one day. Soon. But he only hoped he'd know her name sooner.