Encounters

Odd isn't it? I'm blogging about someone I haven't even had a conversation with.

I'm writing everything out so that I won't need to think about it. To rid my mind of clutter.

I hate it. Suddenly my eyes catch another pair. I see him, in the corner. Hair masking his face. Nobody surrounds him. My curiosity spikes. He disappears.

Walking towards a building, our paths cross on multiple ocassions. He's always looking ahead. I'm always glancing at his face, trying to understand why he's quiet and alone. I want to encircle my arms around him and hug him tightly. To tip toe before delicately kissing his stubble covered cheek.

Walking out of a practice room, I turn the corner only to step on someone's toes, running into a tall body. I apologise profusely, look up and see him. He's simply smiling, his eyes never meeting mine, and walks by. My friend accidentally opens the door in his face, apologising. He smiles, dismissing it as an accident. Another ocassion, leaving the music block, passing him. His headphones in. His eyes stare ahead.

I do not exist.

I have a music lesson. Leaving the room, my piano teacher begins to ramble, but my attention is caught by the strumming of guitars. He and two others; one singing. It's a wonderful sound. We part ways, but I long to turn around.

I'm practicing piano after school and suddenly hear the rhythmic beat of drums, a bass guitar and refrain. Singing. I stop playing. He's the undertone. The bluesy tune.

Our paths continue to cross. His hair is shorter. On two occasions I walk around a corner and look up, his eyes catch mine through the glass of the door before I turn to the stairs.

I knock on a lab door; I need to get my work in the room. There's a lesson. He's sitting on the back table, his hair framing his eyes. Looking in my direction. The teacher is in an in depth conversation. His eyes flit towards me, looking away when I look up. I give up waiting and walk into the room, leafing through the stack  of papers. My oversised jumper gives me comfort. Eyes on my back. I take what I need and leave.

I'm in a chemistry lab, at the edge of the room, measuring the conductivity of ester hydrolysis, stirring the mixture vigorously before looking up. Through the glass window, I see him walking by, his hands in his pockets toward the Art Block. Or leaving the tech block.

One recent morning, before class, my fingers itched to play the piano. I have a keyboard at home, but it's sound doesn't compare to that of a piano. Thus, I went to a practice room in the music block. There was only one empty room with a piano - people kept their guitars here for music lessons during the day. People knocked on the door and sheepishly placed their guitars while I played.

Comptine D'un Autre Été. That's what I was playing when I saw someone hovering outside the room in my periphery, through the rectangular pane in the door. They stood, and waited. I thought it was perhaps my piano teacher. I continued, but abruptly stopped when I glanced at the time: 8:30. And the person still waited.

I got up from the piano bench and began to collect my belongings when the door opened. It was him. Looking down. Carrying his guitar in. Saying nothing. I hurriedly placed my sheet music in my bag and turned to leave while he took time in settling his guitar. I left before a word was uttered.

My heart raced as I walked away. I find it difficult to play the piano in front of others - I feel oddly exposed. Raw. And he had been listening. I had stopped mid note. I had probably kept him waiting tiredly. Why did he wait while I played, but then walk in when I stopped? Polite? Would he have said something if i didn't flee?

Sigh.

The next time we pass, his eyes remain fixed ahead.

I am irrelevant.