Constellations | ʅƙ [✔]

constellations

Lisa loved the boy who stumbled into the classroom late with jet-black bed-hair tucked messily under a dusty old baseball hat. He hated the sport but kept the hat and treasured it as a reminder of his late father.

He was an old soul, as seen in the dim glow of his charcoal eyes which Lisa always got lost in so thoughtlessly.

He was full of thoughts, however.

As she was stuck in a daze, he'd rattle off laws and equations in an exam-fueled craze. When mid-terms were finally over, she'd cry in frustration over her grades in his arms as he hid away his A+ report cards in his backpack.

He'd whisper with a comforting stroke of fingers through her golden hair. "It's okay... don't cry over these little things. They're not worth it when you did your best."

She knew she didn't do her best at studying as she was too focused on him to care for books.

When spring had turned to summer, they'd both sit under the maple trees around their school, with forgotten textbooks laying open on their laps. Instead, they'd be leaning against each other, the girl's head against the boy's thumping heart while their entwined fingers traced shapes on each other's skin.

"That's a constellation," Lisa would giggle at the pattern he drew, the sound being lost in the boy's shirt. She'd listen with red cheeks to his reply as he hoisted the girl onto his lap.

"Oh yeah, which one?" He'd ask with a knowing smile that showed his cute, bunny-like teeth. Lisa just wished to reach out a finger and poke them every time he smiled. Maybe trace a delicate line down to his lips too... the girl sighed.

"My one!" She declared, making him laugh loudly.

"Your one? Care to show me your constellation later?" He would request with interest while she nodded.

But they never met at night. They'd go home, sit at the edge of their window sills and look out at the starless night sky on their own. Lisa would reach out her hand to the blanket of darkness and draw the patterns that she had felt on her skin. Meanwhile, unknown to her, he would scribble the same imaginary constellations between the lines of his textbook, labelling all of them with her initials.

"When would we see the stars?" Lisa asked one day in the middle of class. The boy who sat beside her stiffened.

The teacher at the front of the room stopped pacing to stare at the girl hopping from her seat with wide, curious eyes. "Ms Manoban, don't ask stupid questions in my class. We're in 3045, the stars haven't been burning since 100 years ago."

"What about the Sun? Isn't it a star that has not stopped burning?" The girl pressed on her desk as she leaned forward, ignoring the slight tug that the boy made on her shirt. "Shouldn't we still have hope that other stars can appear and burn as long as the Sun has? There's still a chance for warmth, and life and- and constellations-"

The teacher hastily smacked the ruler in her hand against the whiteboard, producing a deafening clang that had Lisa dropping into her seat immediately. She lowered her head while staring at her fumbling hands in her lap. "Ms Manoban, if you continue to interrupt my class with your preposterous claims of hope and constellations, I can dismiss you. Now, would you like to go into the hallway and dream off these things or sit down and tell me Oersted's Law?"

"Yes, miss, I will behave from now on," Lisa whispered.

"And the theory?"

"I- I- don't know-"

"Shocking..." the teacher scoffed, shaking her head before her eyes travelled to the boy staring at the girl with concern. "Mr Jeon, would you care to answer for Ms Manoban?"