LITERARY: "Lucas" by Erica G. Ildefonso

 I always see him eating alone at the cafeteria. He has no friends, I guess. My classmates told me he's a freak, a weirdo, that's why no one wants to go near him. I've heard rumors circulating the campus that he killed his girlfriend when she attempted to break up with him.

I don't want to believe that.

Deep inside, I know there is something more than those gloomy eyes with lines underneath or the disheveled hair he hides beneath his hoodie. I know he is more than the "psycho" they made him out to be.

I want to figure him out. I have always been fascinated with mysteries, must be the reason why I'm drawn to him. He's a puzzle I want to solve, a code I want to decipher. I will try everything to get close to him. It might be hard, yes — befriending someone who seems to build a wall to protect himself from people.

He's by himself at the corner of the cafeteria again, except he's not eating now. He seems preoccupied with earphones stuck on his ears. I take the chance to go near him.

"Hey." No response.

I poke him to get his attention but he just shot a sideway glance. I almost shiver in fear as his eyes land on me.

"Lucas, right?"

I peak at his phone and see 𝘐 𝘞𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 playing.

"Nice taste in music," I comment. That somehow gets his attention because he pulls his earphones and looks at me.

"You listen to P! ATD?" He seems surprised.

"That's my jam!" I cheerfully exclaim. "𝘖𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘐'𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘳~"

He taps his fingers on the table and starts to sing with me softly. "𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴."

I look at him as he sing. For the first time, I witness him smiling.

From that day on, we become closer to each other. I’m discovering new things about him every day. He had a rough childhood with both his biological parents abusive towards him. This results to his aloof and strange behavior.

I start hanging out with him after school which greatly surprises my classmates yet I don't really care about their spiteful remarks towards us. What do they know anyway?

What matters now is his birthday. I plan to visit him and hopefully, make this day memorable and unforgettable.

I get my gift for him and head to his house. I have never been inside his home because truth be told, he never lets me in.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I am expecting to be greeted by a middle-aged man or an intoxicated old hag just like how he used to describe his mother but what faces me was Lucas himself. Surprise is written all over his face. I bet he is not expecting me to be here. Heck, I think he is not even expecting anyone.

"Uh... happy birthday!" I greet him while awkwardly holding a bottle of wine I have for him. Even though he tries to smile, I can sense his hesitation to let me in.

As I step inside, there is a bitter smell coming from the alcohol splattered across the floor in his living room. The television, which is the only thing that illuminates the room, is playing some cartoon show with static noise in the background. Other than that, the house is dreadfully silent.

He head to his room to prepare the movies while I volunteer to get some wine glasses.

"I really didn't expect you to be here." He can't look at me directly as he struggles to speak clearly.

"I'm your friend, Lucas," I remind him. Perhaps, he is used to being alone that he doesn't know what it feels to have a friend anymore.

"Yes, I know." He glances at me. "That still confuses me. Why would you even want to be friends with a murderer?"

That catch me off guard, I admit.

"I just don't believe the rumors.”

"Well, you should start believing them." The tone of his voice convinces me that he is just trying to push me away.

"Your parents are not home. You have the chance to kill me . . . but you don't."

He looks at me with disbelief. If he's really a murderer, he may think I'm naïve for saying such things.

To divert the topic, I give him the gift I have for him. While he carefully cuts the wrapper, he asks me, "Don't you have any friends other than me?"

"Well, I have a best friend before but she chose his boyfriend over me," I answer bluntly.

Honestly, I don't want to dwell in the past anymore. I want to be alive and exist here in the present.

He is my present.

My eyes are glued on his every move. I witness how terror crept upon his face the moment he knows what's inside the box. He looks at me with fear and confusion in his eyes. As if by instinct, he drinks his wine beside him. I've read before that people unconsciously drink to keep themselves from telling the truth.

"How did you get Sophia's photos?"

Instead of answering, I smile and ask him, "Do you know what is my best friend's name, Lucas?"

The look of bewilderment in his eyes amuses me. As realization dawn on him, I see the pain and rage in his eyes. He looks like he wants to kill me. Well, let’s see if he can.

"Erin, what are you—" He is about to attack me but he fall into his knees while gasping for air.

Cyanide never gets old, I guess.

His breathing becomes more difficult each second. I bet he will not last another minute.

He extends his arms toward me as if begging to alleviate his misery.

"I didn't kill her. . ."

His ignorance makes me want to burst into laughter.

"I know you didn't kill Sophia —

because I did!"