Everyday was a cycle. An orderly, continuous cycle, though the events that occured wasn't necessarily so. Wake up, commute to college, listen to a mundane lecture, go back home. Mom was angry again, get criticized. Head up to my room. A click of a mouse, the typing of a keyboard, call with friends for a bit. Then stare at the ceiling, thoughts flying about or maybe none at all before eyelids shut and fall asleep.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Alarm rings, wake up, go to school. Except something unexpected happened on the way. He was odd, I thought. What kind of person had two opposing hair colors split down so cleanly? Staring daggers into the back of his head, I thought if that dye job was inspired by Melanie Martinez.
The bus stopped on my destination and I got off, getting back into routine.
Another day, another schedule. I saw that boy again. We're standing closer than we had yesterday, I observed. The bus stopped; I got off. And went back to my day.
This continued for a couple of weeks that soon turned into months. I stepped off the bus and glanced around. That's odd, I thought, he never got off at this stop before.
When my classes finished, I headed to the bus stop, quickly glancing at the time. 10 minutes before the bus came as per usual. I halt to a stop, looking at the boy (or was it more appropriate to call him a man?) who sat on one of the seats in the bus stop. I sat on a seat to his right, having one serve as a barrier between us. It was only proper, I supposed.
"Hey." A tenor voice rang through the air.
Mildly surprised, I voiced my greeting as a question. "Hi?"
"Can I assume you go to this uni?" He asked.
"Uh...Yeah." I wanted to smack myself for forming such an 'intricate' answer.
"Do you happen to know if there's any transfer programs or study-abroad programs available right now?"
"I'm not too sure, but they should have some. You can talk to your counselor about it," I offered.
"I guess I could. Thanks," came the reply.
"No problem."
And just like that the bus came and we both stepped in. I never did see him again after that. I wonder if he got into the program he wanted? And soon enough, the boy with the bicolored hair faded from memory.
I got reminded of him though, a couple of months later. It was all over the news: about how some hero kid willingly saved people from a burning building, going back in multiple times to save them one by one. Todoroki Shouto. That was his name. The hero with the bicolored hair who was now in critical condition because of what he did.
I guess he did get into that program he wanted, considering he's miles away from here now. I pulled up my phone, intending to donate on his gofundme page that they advertised on the news.
It really do be like that sometimes. I chastised myself for thinking of a stupid meme during such a serious event. But it ain't wrong.
Sometimes life just sucks and you can't do shit about it.
That's just how it is, I guess.
Getting accepted into a program, then saving people from a burning building, only to come out of it with severe burn wounds and no money to pay the hospital bill. He's got a lot on his plate so why not make it easier for him?
With just a few taps, I was a hundred dollars poorer. But hey, it helps him out so why not?
He's interesting and he broke me out of that cycle that I used to think in.
I can't believe I forgot someone like that.
If we could meet again, that would be great.
If not, I guess I'll just keep an eye out and live out my life.