❦ . ❦ . ❦

Northern Integrated School
of Perlientas, Year 2011

"Don't ya worry now, li'l fella. I'm gonna find you good sunlight."

A sixteen-year-old high schooler, Laurence Villegas, weaved his way through the crowd of loitering students in the hallway. He ignored the giggles and the familiar voices calling out his name as he focused on the small pot of echeveria in his hand.

While he was doing his usual stroll in the school garden earlier, he'd chanced upon this succulent under a pride-of-India tree. Its thick, fleshy leaves had stretched out, losing their compactness and rose-like formation.

His mother had taught him before that this type of plant required around five hours of direct natural light to maintain its pretty appearance, and he figured this succulent had not photosynthesized properly because of its location. With little thought, he'd grabbed the mini terracotta pot from the shade and run to the lecture building, his brain zeroing in on the one place he knew he could get the most of the sunlight.

The young man darted from one flight to another, swinging on the newel posts and jumping on the landings. He reached the third floor in a matter of minutes. As he arrived at the foot of the last stairs, he skidded to a stop and frowned. He scratched his head, tousling his hair, which his father had helped him dye with golden blonde the other day.

"There ain't a need to go to the rooftop, right?" he muttered, realizing late that he could have instead searched for a spot in the garden where there was enough direct sunlight throughout the day and moved the echeveria there. "Oh, well, we're here anyway. We'll just return you to your friends later, so you won't feel lonely."

Satisfied with his idea, he climbed the stairs while bouncing on his steps.

Laurence exited the door and squinted as soon as the brightness in the open space charged at his sight. He pulled the hood of the zip-up sweatshirt he'd worn over his school uniform and waited for a couple of seconds to adjust his vision to the glare of the sun.

As he was about to circle the rooftop bulkhead and rest under its shadow on the opposite side, he noticed a second person by the fence. It was another male student, based on the similar polo shirt and black pants he had on, but Laurence could not see the stranger's face since he had his back on him.

The guy had propped his feet on the low wall, his upper body leaning ever so slightly over the steel barrier as he held on to the capping rail.

Laurence furrowed his brows, wondering why the school had agreed to the design of a rooftop fence that students could climb without issue. He ambled toward the scene, his gaits soundless, careful not to frighten the person.

Upon reaching the spot close to the other student, he peeked over the railing and observed the people moving around on the school grounds. Up there, he had a clear view of the garden from which he'd snatched the echeveria. The flower beds appeared like abstract paintings, with the vibrant blossoms serving as the medium.

Laurence turned to the boy on the fence, who had his eyes closed. The young stranger stood motionless, unbothered by the heat of the sun and oblivious to the other person near him.

Returning his gaze below, Laurence murmured, "You ain't gonna die even if you jump from this height."

His ears caught a gasp. Out of the corner of his eye, Laurence witnessed the young man stumble backward and fall to the rooftop surface with a thud.

"Chances are, you're only gonna break your bones, and you'd be paralyzed. Even if you wanna do something to change the situation, you ain't gonna be able to do it 'cause you can't move anymore. You'll spend your remaining years strapped to life support, regretting what you did. You'll suffer more, and you're gonna be forced to put up with a life a lot more horrible than death."

Laid-back, Laurence swiveled to face the guy on the ground. "That's why, whatever you're planning..." He trailed off. Blinked. He caught his breath, mesmerized by the beautiful eyes that were currently rounder than usual.

The young man gaped at Laurence as if the latter was the March Hare who'd stepped out of Wonderland.

"Whoa, you've got pretty eyes," Laurence said, his own eyes widening in awe.

Green. The lad's irises were a gorgeous shade of green, and the sunbeam made them glitter like dews on a fresh leaf after a summer rain.

Now that he was in front of him, Laurence could see the triple stripes on the collar of the guy's polo shirt. The lines were navy blue, the color code for the freshman students.

So a year below me, this punk.

The said punk scrambled to his feet, his fists dropping to his sides. "I wasn't planning to jump."

Laurence let out a long hum. "So you were just wondering how it'd be if you did?"

Subtle lines appeared on the freshman's forehead. He pressed his lips, and his eyes shifted to the corner.

Bull's eye, eh? Laurence cocked his head as he distinguished the twin moles near the other lad's right eyelid, which contributed to his handsome feature.

"Who are you?" the young stranger asked, pulling Laurence from his musing.

The sixteen-year-old gazed down at the pot of succulent in his hand before looking at the younger student. "That would depend on who's asking me."

"You... you don't know who I am?"

During the couple of times he'd assisted his mother in their gardening shop, Laurence had already encountered several customers who'd thrown him the same question. Those types of people would often behave as though they were the children of gods who'd bought not only a single stem of a flower but also Laurence's entire being. He never liked them or their manner of talking at all.

But there was something very different about the way this young man had delivered the same words. There wasn't an air of pomposity in his faltering speech, and the folds in between his brows only hinted at his genuine confusion.

"Am I supposed to know?" Laurence tried to deadpan, but the trace of chuckle in his sentence betrayed his act. "Are you the nation president's son? Sorry, I don't know who's that either."

Without giving an immediate response, the freshman kept eyeing Laurence. After a pause, he mumbled, "The president has no son. And no, you were not supposed to know, but I'm... I'm just surprised..."

Laurence nodded, as if he understood what the younger student was trying to say. He squatted, placed the pot on the floor, and positioned it close to the low wall. Standing up, he asked, "So what's your name?"

"I asked you first, didn't I?" the young lad said in a quiet voice.

"Hey, I'm your senior, ain't I? So it's common courtesy to introduce yourself first."

"Who made the rules?"

"I just did. So?"

Another brief silence came over the rooftop. The freshman fiddled with the hem of his polo shirt.

Just when Laurence was convinced he would no longer get anything out of the other lad, a soft answer drifted into the air.

"Isaac."

Laurence gave himself a second to let the name sink in. "Isaac?" he pressed.

"Just Isaac."

"Okay, Just Isaac, my name's Laurence. Laurence Villegas." The senior student grinned at the unimpressed scowl on Isaac's face. "So, what were you—"

The long, obnoxious ring of the school bell drowned out the rest of his sentence. A little disappointed, Laurence glowered at the door of the bulkhead, where the annoying sound had echoed.

With a sigh, he gave one last look at the succulent by his feet. "I'll leave you here for now. I'll be back to pick you up later, alright?" he said in the bright tone he used every time he played with his younger brother. Laurence pried his attention off the plant and directed it at the guy in front of him.

Isaac was now watching him with a complicated expression on his face.

"And you should go back to your class too, Isaac. I'll see you later! Let's continue our conversation, okay?"

Laurence did not wait for the younger man's reaction. He sprinted to the exit, but not before hearing Isaac's grumble.

"Don't just decide everything for me. I'm not a plant."

❦ . ❦ . ❦

A few hours later, Laurence learned from his classmates that almost everyone in the school, students and staff alike, knew about a lad with exquisite teal irises because of his family's status.

"Isaac Leonard Fahlgren? Heir to the Fahlgren Company? Yep, we know that stuck-up brat."

He could not help but disagree with the remark. Sure, he might have seen a speck of defiance behind Isaac's reserve during their initial encounter, but Laurence noted nothing snobby about the freshman's attitude. If anything, that lad leaned more toward being timid.

Despite Isaac's disapproving comment when they'd parted ways, Laurence found him again on the rooftop the next day. When the senior student brought up the subject of the identity of the Fahlgren Company's heir, all he received from the younger man was a request to not associate him with any of it again.

"Leonard, that's the name of my father. I don't like it as much as I don't like my surname. I don't want his name being connected to me in any way, so I promised myself I'm going to drop it first thing I get the chance."

"Should I just call you Ice then?" Laurence asked.

"Why?"

"Because it sounds cool, and it's easier to say than Isaac. You can just call me Rence too."

The indistinct roll of the younger man's eyes did not escape Laurence.

In a monotone, Isaac said, "Suit yourself."

❦ . ❦ . ❦

Somehow, after their first meeting, they found themselves running into each other more often at school. On the rooftop. In the hallways. In the cafeteria.

Laurence and Isaac were in the garden when the former discovered another remarkable detail about his junior's family.

"No way, mate! Isla? As in the vocalist of that former rock band Soul Ecstasy? She's your mom? You ain't kidding, are ya?"

As though he heard nothing, Isaac continued to gather the fallen leaves and petals from the ground. He was crouching down by a flower bed with a faraway expression on his face.

Miffed, Laurence opened his mouth to call out the younger man's behavior, but promptly shut it again when a certain showbiz headline, which had been going around for a couple of weeks, flashed in the back of his mind.

FORMER MUSICIAN FOUND DEAD IN HER CONDOMINIUM. The television and newspapers had been reporting that the cause of death was congestive heart failure, but there had been speculations among the public that the case was more complicated than that.

Laurence bit his bottom lip and sent an apologetic stare at Isaac, realizing how insensitive he'd acted. The events of the day he'd stumbled upon the freshman on the rooftop came back to him, and he worked out it was during the first week when the news had been a hot topic.

I wasn't planning to jump, was what Isaac had told him then, but Laurence wondered if the younger man could have gone for a different decision if no one had come across him. At the thought, Laurence could not help but feel relieved and glad he'd found Isaac at the perfect time.

"I'm sorry." A gentle wind passed, bringing along the senior student's whisper with it.

Again, there was no response.

"Listen, Ice." Laurence rubbed his earlobe and shifted from one foot to another. Sighing, he attempted again. "Everything you feel right now's valid. It's understandable if you're extremely sad. Maybe you're even mad at everything and everyone at the moment. And it's okay to let yourself feel all of those not-so-pretty emotions. Cry. Give yourself the time to grieve. It's alright. But, I hope..."

He hunkered down, joining Isaac in clearing out the withered sections of the plants in the flower bed. "I'm not that great with words, but... Y'know how it feels to be left alone by someone you care about, so if there comes a time when the unwelcome thoughts fill your mind again, I just... I just hope you'll remember how the sorrow ain't gonna disappear with someone gone. And instead, the pain's only gonna be passed on to the people who were left behind."

Fingers dirty with soil, Isaac hugged his bent knees and dropped his head. "There isn't anyone left to give a damn when I'm gone."

"Then, what am I?"

The younger student lifted his face to show his wide, questioning eyes.

In response, Laurence smiled softly. "This may not mean anything to you. You'll probably think I'm only saying shits. I may just be a nosy schoolmate for you, anyway. But just so you know, I care and will continue to do so.

"I ain't asking you to live just 'cause of it though. You ain't supposed to live merely for the sake of other people and their feelings. Live for yourself, Ice. Live, 'cause that's the best revenge you can slam in the face of this cruel world that keeps screwing you. Live, so in the end, you can say, 'fuck you, universe, you're never gonna beat me with these shitty tricks you keep throwing my way.' Live, because your existence in this world makes a difference. Because you matter. And if there's anyone out there who makes you feel otherwise, whether they're family or friends, then fuck them too. Tell them to stuff their heads in the toilet bowl where they belong."

Chirps of birds filled the atmosphere, replacing the youthful yells that faded in the background. The pair of students stared at each other; Laurence with a compassionate expression, and Isaac with bemusement on his face.

After a while, the younger lad looked away and breathed, "You're a weirdo, senior."