Dilemma of a Replica

Because my first class being at the other side of the building plus my carefree pace of walking plus that strange interaction with the new student, it was almost inevitable that I was late again despite my early arrival.

Since I have no other people to blame than myself—I chose to think the one who's at fault was that Syaoran Freak—or S.F as I would like to refer him now with.

"I'm not even going to start with you," my teacher had said to me, first thing as I entered the class.

I shrugged and went to my seat. It was a wise decision not to bother, given the fact that I absolutely do not feel any guilt for arriving late.

Just as Ms. Lourdes started speaking, the door slid opened again. Stepping through the door, murmurs broke out all over the room when they saw S.F. (Syaoran Freak) the teacher crooned for him to go to the center, to what I can only assume was, for him to introduce himself.

I was disinterested about it all until he proved his despicably embarrassing trait of his: being odd.

He waddled. Do you know what "waddle" means? Picture this: a penguin walking. That is what he looked like. With his arm frozen to his sides, his face flushed deep red; he shuffled his feet left and right until he was in front.

I shake my head in outermost disbelief and the rest of the class were in stunned silence.

When he finally reached the center front, he cleared his throat and introduced himself: "My name is Syaoran Li—I'm a writer."

His voice was deep and smooth—the total opposite of what you would expect with his attitude. Most girls swooned—which was ridiculous because did they not just saw what happened?—while the rest of us (mostly guys) remained dumbfounded. I guess I was most perplexed about was how this strange being can actually claimed himself as a "writer" (I already know his tendencies to act like a total weirdo so I'm not surprised about that.)

Twenty minutes after his little sexy strut, he proved how much of a genius he really was (I am not even remotely being sarcastic). He answered every question the teacher asked. I'm pretty sure the self-proclaimed geeks of our class might even felt threatened by his intelligence. This confused the hell out of me. If he was that intellectually outstanding, why is he like that?

When it was lunch time, everybody greeted the new student, forming a large circle around him. They kept laughing at his jokes and I was amazed at how great he was at socializing. He already had everybody wrapped around his finger.

First, he's not an idiot (that shocked me the most); secondly, he's not socially-awkward; so what is wrong with this guy?

The worst part was, no matter how bizarre he had left for a first impression to the rest, they absolutely adored him. The teachers, the girls, the boys, the nerds, the jocks—I don't even think that guy from the back existed until today—everyone.

No, actually, the worst part was the teacher's decision to allow him to sit behind me. Did you know he breathes deeply and loudly? No? Well he does. Especially when he kept leaning forward. He didn't wore his glasses today and his eyesight was pretty bad, from what I observed. I can absolutely feeeel his breath fanning the back of my neck. It's so weird and creepy.

Remembering what happened from my latest trip to the principal's office, I turned and faced the boy behind me to tell him about the tour.

He looked at me with the same star-stricken expression from earlier, as if he had only noticed I was in the same class with him.

I ignored this. "I don't know if you are told about this, but I was asked me to tour you around," I told him and he remained to gap at me which made me sigh. I shake my head. "Just—just don't go. We're going to circle the school after all class ends, okay?"

Without waiting for his respond, I turn back to listen to my teacher.

Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Sakura Kinomoto."

Syaoran gave me a sheepish smile. "I know this sounds a little fast," he murmured. "But you remind me of someone."

I didn't understand what was so important about that. So I resembled someone—big deal. He looked so excited even. However, his face fell when he saw me shrug with disinterest.

"I really don't find that significant to my life," I droned. Weighing that it was the right thing to do, I added, "sorry."

He smiled. "It's fine," He said. "But you really do like her…" he trailed off.

I think he wanted me to die with curiosity hence the typical cliff-hanger, but I was just not at all that fascinated. I shrugged—the only response I can give him without offending; or at least that's what I hoped. Mom always did say I can come of as extremely rude.

He propped his head with his hand and looked at me with a smile. "She's even pretty like you."

I remained unfazed.

-x-x-

"So this is the library," Syaoran pointed at the sign that says Library with awe in his eyes. My head subconsciously did a shake of disbelief; an act, I observed, I have been doing often when I'm around him.

"Yes," I managed to say through gritted teeth, "Obviously."

"That's magnificent."

I cleared my throat, hoping none of my unfriendly thoughts would escape my lips, and started walking briskly. He followed me suit. I pointed another door and droned, "And that's where the "magic" happens."

Of course, when I say magic: I clearly meant the restrooms. You can't say much about a comfort room except it stinks-just like any mediocre magic act.

Stanley doesn't seem to get my gist, but I appreciated the fact that he only frowned in confusion. This stops me from feeling obligated to explain any further. He didn't ask why; thus, I will not point out why.

We went outside and the sun was just starting to set. Looking directly at the burning sphere was something I always did hate and regret because it leaves me squinting my eyes in the process. I don't like sunsets or sunrise or anything remotely close to any of those. My parents said it was because my eyes were sensitive as it is, but my brothers once told me that because I was a "creature of the dark" and therefore the sun was a mortal enemy of mine.

Maybe it is-I don't know. I have no time to think it through because I snapped out of my trail of thoughts when I heard a distant whine.

Spinning around, my eyes went dotted at the sight my vision has unfortunately seen. S.F. was there, on the ground, groaning and turning like a brat throwing a tantrum. I was so glad there were no more students at this time-except for the cheerleaders and jocks, but they're in the other side of the building.

Kicking him in the shin-don't worry, I did it quietly-I asked calmly, "What the hell are you doing?"

He groaned, this time, in pain. "Sakura!"

"Don't call me that, we're not close."

"Sakura!" he gasped out, ignoring my retort, and dramatically raising his hands to my direction. "Help this fair maiden-"

"You're a guy," I pointed out. "Or at least, physically you are one."

"-from this cruel world that I have been plunged in, hey, wait a minute-" He looked up, his eyes offended. "-what do you mean "physically"? I'm all man!"

I snorted, "Could have fooled me."

"I. am. a. man," he said between dramatic pauses. "And no matter what you say, I'm still beautiful!"

"What the hell is your problem?!" I snapped, not finding any of more of his bullshit funny. "What? Are you really this abnormal?"

"My mom says I'm special."

I threw him a look. "Did she also mentioned how annoying you are?"

"That wasn't very nice," he chided me. of course i didn't took it seriously. "But hey!" His eyes suddenly light up in excitement and grinned. "look! we already reached the point where we can insult each other at such an early stage of friendship!"

I pursed my lips. "We're not friends, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying we are."

"Friendship must be formed by mutual liking. I don't like you."

He pouted. "Aw, you don't? but I like you Sakura."

"Well, I don't," I deadpanned. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves

"But Sakuraaa!"

That tears it. I don't know why, but I can not keep my calm around this guy! I heard a distant 'snap' inside my head and the next, I was straddling the dramatic S.F., my hands clutched on his collar and shaking and shaking and choking.

"Get-off-me!" He demanded.

"No! Unless you tell me what the hell your problem is," I gripped on harder, "take all of this like a man!"

My eyes widened, when he suddenly flipped me under him. He put my hands above my head, holding me still. I struggled, but he managed to keep me caged. Shit.

He smirked. "You intrigue me, Sakura. And by the way, there's nothing wrong with me-I was just born this way."

"I'll bite your head off," I growled.

"Feisty."

"Moronic."

He rolled his eyes at that one. "I should keep you on a leach."

"That's for bitches," I spat out. "It'll suit you quite well though."

He peered down me suddenly; like he was analyzing me or something. He frowned. "You're really hard to understand, you know that?"

"Well maybe because I'm no test animal to observe."

"Like seriously," he continued relentlessly, ignoring my sarcastic mouth. "Most of the time, you're like a dead kid and you're very sarcastic and you're mean and cold and so..."

"So what?" I snapped.

"So unlike her." His tone was quiet and sad and his grip loosened and I took his sentimental moment to escape from him. I rolled over and stood up swiftly.

I dusted my clothes and I look down at him, my feelings rather apathetic than anything. "I don't care," I drawled with a circle of my hand. "Do bear in mind that I'm actually not her; whoever "she" is."

"She's a character from my book," he deadpanned.

I was silent for a moment. No, that could not be right. I didn't hear right, right? I wanted to laugh. I seriously want to just laugh like crazy. He-after all this time-was actually comparing me with a fictional chick. Who cannot laugh at that?

You do, my mind taunted me.

Oh that's right.

"All this time you have been looking at me and mentally thinking about a character that you made up with the pigment of your imagination?" I was seething.

He smiled toothily. "Quiet so."

I nodded mutely, not for a moment trusting my mouth.

"See? Your hair and its color! Your eyes! It's green too?" He added relentlessly despite my lethal silence, grinning and pointing at me. He stared down at me with obvious-and creepy-admiration. "You are exactly how I pictured her!"

"What of it!?" I asked exasperated. I'm tired of listening to him blabber.

"Well, can I write about you?"

I frowned. "What?"

He finally stood up at this point, leaving my question hanging for a moment as he dusted himself. After that, he raised one finger as he explained. "You see I'm looking at this opportunity as a sign."

Total bonkers, this guy. "A sign of what exactly?"

"That I'm destined to be a writer!" he exclaimed grinning. "Don't you see? A character, a character that I am currently writing, somehow looks exactly like you and we actually met! What are the chances of that happening? None right? But it did."

"Okay dude you are starting to seriously creep me out." I was blunt.

He ruffled his hair in frustration making it messier than usual. "I just want to write about you-you know, use you as an inspiration. That's all."

"But I thought you said I'm nothing like her?" I countered.

He didn't even hesitate. "Yes, you're the opposite actually."

"Then that won't work."

He grinned (rather smugly, I may add). "I just started the story, changing the plots and characters will be easy at this point." He sighed, pleading me with his chocolate-colored eyes. "Look, I only want to observe you-"

The way he said it made it sound like he was referring me to as a lab rat.

"-how you act, how you talk, what will you do in a certain situation; all that."

At this point I was too tired to care to his plead and so I sighed and nod my head. "Fine, fine."

He was only going to write about me, right? whatever.

And so I smiled at him tightly, turn my heel around and went away. I could just go home and forget about this guy, forget about being compared to a fictional character, forget this day even existed.

And like I said, I did forget.

Only he made me remember, again, and again, and again, because I think that was his twisted desire all along.

end of chapter 3

we finally have the two leads together in a chapter. Thank you for reading! Leave a comment if you like!

xoxo,

DefinitionOfLazy