Lui hated crowds. He hated how voices merged into a shapeless mass that assaulted his ears. He hated how bodies moved without pattern, without direction, without respect for personal space. And here he was, trapped in the middle of a social hell called freshman orientation.
"Damn it," he muttered as someone stepped on the tip of his shoe for the third time in the last ten minutes. His backpack felt increasingly heavy, pulling his shoulders down like an anchor. Inside were three books he didn't actually need to bring but Lui always needed the assurance that he could escape into another world at any moment.
The crumpled schedule in his hand indicated room 3B, but what he saw in front of him was a door labeled 3D. Lui scratched his head though it wasn't itchy, making his already messy hair even more disheveled.
"Campus should have more sensible directions," he grumbled to himself.
Three meters away, Puriel nearly tripped over his own feet. Again. He stared at his black shoes as if they were traitors. The small notebook with a dark blue cover that he held was already full of scribbles mostly not orientation notes, but abstract doodles he drew to calm himself. One looked like a bird, or maybe a cloud, or perhaps just anxiety spilled onto paper.
"Excuse me, do you know where room 3B is?" someone asked Puriel. He glanced up briefly, then immediately looked down again, mumbling "don't know" that sounded more like "dunno" before walking away with a crimson face. Social interaction made his throat feel like it was stuffed with cotton.
Lui finally found room 3B after asking a janitor (the only adult who didn't seem intimidating). The room was already half full, with plastic chairs arranged in a semi-circle formation. He slipped into the back row, dropping his backpack with a thud that drew several pairs of eyes. Lui pretended not to notice.
At the doorway, Puriel took a deep breath. Oxygen in, anxiety ou like the mantra his high school counselor had taught him. It didn't work, of course. Anxiety remained perched in his chest like a raven that refused to fly away. He stepped inside, looking for the least conspicuous seat.
"Alright everyone, we'll start with an introduction session!" announced the facilitator with excessive enthusiasm. "Stand up and find a new friend!"
Lui rolled his eyes. Of course. Social hell level two.
In the chaos of shifting chairs and moving bodies seeking partners, fate or more precisely, Lui's shoelace getting stepped on set everything in motion. Lui stepped backward to free his shoe, not seeing Puriel who was right behind him.
"Ouch!"
Lui turned around and saw a young man shorter than himself stumbling backward, his notebook thrown to the floor. The young man quickly bent down to pick it up, but his head ended up hitting Lui's chin, who had also bent down to help.
"Shit, sorry! That uh, sorry," Lui stammered, his hand reflexively holding his chin. "I mean, are you okay?"
Puriel rubbed his throbbing forehead, his eyes watery from pain and embarrassment. "No. I mean, yes. I mean I'm fine." He swallowed hard. "My head's pretty hard."
"I can feel that," Lui chuckled while still rubbing his chin. The laugh was unplanned, and it surprised them both.
Puriel raised his face, and for the first time, they truly looked at each other. There was something in Puriel's eyes like a puzzle hidden behind silence. Lui felt as if time slowed momentarily, allowing him to notice how the fluorescent light made Puriel's eyes look like cloudy skies that held the promise of rain.
"You dropped this," Lui held out a pen that had fallen to the floor.
Their hands touched when Puriel took it. Not a dramatic touch like in movies just fingertips grazing for a fraction of a second. But it felt like someone had just turned on a light switch in a dark room.
"Thanks," Puriel quickly withdrew his hand, tucking the pen into his shirt pocket, which already had an ink stain on it.
"Okay, does everyone have a partner now?" shouted the facilitator, breaking the moment. "Oh, you two in the back! Great! Now please get to know your partner and share what you hope to get from this course!"
Lui and Puriel looked at each other, trapped together by circumstance, not choice.
"So..." Lui began, scratching his head again. "Um, I'm Lui. English Literature major."
"Puriel," the other replied briefly. "Library Science."
"Oh," Lui felt a slight smile form on his face. "That makes sense."
"What makes sense?"
"You carry that notebook like it's treasure."
Puriel spontaneously tightened his grip on his notebook, then realized what he was doing and immediately felt embarrassed. "Habit," he mumbled. Then, as if wanting to prove he could converse normally, he added, "You look like you're carrying half a library in your bag yourself."
Lui glanced at his gaping backpack, revealing a stack of thick books. "Looks like we're both book carriers," he said. "Maybe it's fate."
He didn't mean to say it in that tone half-joking, half-serious. The words just slipped out, and now hung in the air between them.
Puriel's cheeks flushed, but he didn't look down again. "Or maybe we're just a mismatched pair for the orientation project."
"That's a quick conclusion," Lui leaned against the wall. "Are you always this pessimistic or just with people who accidentally bump into you?"
Puriel almost smiled almost. "Only with those who bump into me and hit my head with their chin."
The facilitator announced that they had to create a small project to present at the end of the week. Something about "vision as a student" and "contribution to the future." Lui barely listened, too busy noticing how Puriel bit the end of his pen when thinking.
"So," said Lui when the announcement finished. "When do we start?"
"Start what?" Puriel blinked.
"The project that was just explained for fifteen minutes," Lui chuckled. "You weren't listening either, were you?"
Puriel, for the first time, genuinely smiled. A shy smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. "Busted."
"Campus library, tomorrow at two? I heard there are discussion rooms on the second floor."
Puriel nodded, and when they parted ways in the hallway half an hour later, something was different. As if the world had shifted slightly off its axis, opening new possibilities they had never considered before.
Lui returned to his boarding house that afternoon with unusual thoughts. For the first time in his life, he looked forward to tomorrow not because of a book he wanted to read or a film he wanted to watch, but because of someone.
In a different part of town, Puriel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the pen Lui had touched earlier. There was a strange feeling tickling his chest a mixture of fear and curiosity he had never experienced before.
They sat on the narrow balcony that barely fit two small chairs and one dead pot that failed to grow anything despite Puriel's continued attempts. Below, the city was coming to life car horns, newspaper vendors' shouts, and bicycle bells. Puriel yawned widely, then rested his head on Lui's shoulder, a cup of coffee dangerously hovering in his hand.
"Hey, careful with your coffee," Lui warned.
"Hmm," was Puriel's only response, half asleep again. Lui took the mug from his hand before it spilled.
After a comfortable silence, Puriel suddenly asked, "How long do you think the coffee machine will last before breaking down again?"
"Want to bet? I say three days," Lui answered.
"Too optimistic. I say tomorrow when we need it most." Puriel straightened up, taking his mug back from Lui's hand.
Lui looked at him, noticing a jam stain at the corner of Puriel's lip but not telling him. There was a small pleasure in knowing things the person you love doesn't know about themselves.
"I don't know how my life became like this," Lui said suddenly, his voice softer.
"Like what? Stuck with someone who steals your toast?" Puriel grinned.
"Stuck with someone who makes me so happy despite having a noisy machine and being unable to grow a single plant," Lui replied.
Puriel groaned. "Too early for touching moments." But his hand sought Lui's, their fingers intertwining. "But yeah, me too."
They weren't sweet words from a romance novel, no "forever" or "grateful." But for them, "me too" meant more than all the empty promises in the world.