Vacant Boy
by me.
We were young. Perhaps 8, or was it 9 years old?
His mischievous gaze he held was timeless - the one a elementary kid had. Or was I biased to think this way because that's when I saw it for the first time.
In elementary school.
We weren't really friends even though we were in the same class and seated really close. We didn't dislike one another, we were just the other's background character to the other's story. Kind of like that classmate you wouldn't hate being paired up with in a school project but you wouldn't go out of your way to go with them if you had the choice. Actually, it was exactly like that.
For a good amount of time it was as described above. We wouldn't acknowledge each other in the hallways or even on the playground. Not intentionally, but rather because we just didn't... see each other. We had never hung out despite holding a respectful and good classmate-to-classmate relationship. There was just no interest. I was the preppy blonde rich girl and he was the loud, annoyingly energetic yet so lovable figure in our class. A few girls had a crush on him and I didn't blame them but it was to no avail - he didn't have one delicate nor romantic bone in him. He was dense dumb kid who only liked dragons. Now that I remember it, he claimed that his father was a fire dragon - false.
He's just weird.
Those were the words I would use to describe him back then. Until we gradually became friends in 8th grade. It was the year he had moved on our street during the summer unbeknownst to me. His family and he had gone knocking on every door, offering pie like in the olden american days. Sadly, nobody had answered. Why? They were not as high class as the people they were trying to appeal to. To my neighbours it had looked like a filthy worm trying to appeal to an alpha lion. I'm not going to lie, I had the same mindset when informed by our butlers of their little visit. They had been stopped by the silver gates blocking our mile-long driveway. I could see their faces through the monitor and hear them through the intercom.
"Let's hope this one doesn't turn us down." A certain redhead middle-aged man whispered with a light chuckle.
"Gray told me this is where our class president lives." I recognized the boy as Natsu with his unique features.
Crap.
"Are you sure they live there? Pretty sure that's the President's house right there…" A soothingly sweet voice spoke. It came a woman who kept rubbing her hands together in this overly hot weather as if she was cold…
"Yeah I'm pretty sure. He said the biggest white house of the Strawberry Street was um.. Lu-luigi Ha-Hatfi.. Hatfila's! Yup! Luigi Hatfila's."
I fumed. How could he forget my name after being in the same class for a good 4 years. Annoyed, I hastingly pressed the green button, makingna buzzin sound before more blasphemous words came out of his mouth.
Father would've obviously opposed to letting commoners "stain" our carpets with their "dirty walmart shoes". I couldn't. If I were to refuse it dirty my label as the class prez. That's why I ordered Alexander, our youngest butler, to drive them through the driveway in our custom Rolls Royce cadi.
When they entered mi casa, the maids and I greeted them with a fake smile, one I had been condition to use for greetings, pictures and just appearances overall since I could understand English. That's when I saw Natsu's unnatural attire. He, who usually wore capri shorts and a simple tee, was wearing a freaking Louis Vuitton golf polo, Yves St-Laurent black formal pants, a plain looking belt to any amateur but to a conaisseur you could easily tell it was a Enfants Riches Déprimés belt, white ankle Ralph Lauren socks and black CDG x Converse high tops. He had this indifferent, composed and relaxed look on his face. He held his head high and only lowered his deep dark eyes. His hair was still has messy, giving a sense of carelessness.
For the first time I had noticed him.
And that had put a genuine smile of amusement on my face.
"Please come in"
And so the gates closed behind them, opening the ones to our story.