SULIVANS

Line

His pupils re-sparked as the sound of a resting bell echoed in his eardrum.

The opening of a small drawstring totebag contained a dining box with an enthusiastic look.

This was the most eagerly awaited moment of his least expected day; lunch with his favorite bunny-shaped bento.

For a week more secluded at home, Sena nourished his boredom by playing videos on youtube.

Everything that appears on the homepage he opens.

Initially the double content contained running videos and all sorts of***** his whimpering; ranging from professional team coach interviews to world-level match recordings.

After that, the sign began to adjust his life at that time; mukbang videos, roadside snacks vlogs, cafe employee vlogs that contain making various menus, to cooking tutorial videos that are usually watched by the mother.

At that time he was required to eat as much as possible to restore the condition of his body.

For five full days his mother and father came home with various types of food; ranging from coconut milk, boiled or baked, sea or land, to roadside snacks.

Everything was bought in small portions to avoid leftovers; which was a taboo for the Sena family.

All leftover food must be included in the refrigerator and warmed to be eaten again the next day.

After five days of being full of food videos, Sena was curious about one of the rabbit cartoon videos that appeared on her porch.

From then on he was infatuated with the character of rabbid's invasion.

Exactly like the shape of the rice today, the shape of a rabbit with round eyes formed by the mother with slices of omelet.

Sena secured the position of the spoon in her hand while staring at the provisions with sparkling eyes.

Then a soft conversation entered Sena's ears, making her clench her smiling lips and reducing the twinkle of her eyes.

"Did you see the new kid's rice stock?"

"What's? A stock? So ribet..."

Sena shifted her pupils slightly, wondering which mouth was talking about it.

"Any, right? You'd be more surprised if you saw the shape.."

The two mouths walked out without even looking at Sena.

Very different from the behavior he was accustomed to meeting; mocking him blatantly right in front of his eyes.

One of the two mouths was wide open in contrivance, then raised both hands to cover it.

"Seriously? Character stock?"

A mocking rarity sounded as the two pairs of legs disappeared from the classroom window.

If only Sena had heard it on the indoor court where the athletes were resting, she would have replied to it out loud in a slightly joking tone:

Just say you're jealous because your mother doesn't have time to make this funny stuff!

Then they'll laugh together. Sena laughs at her funny stock and the tease laughs at her mother who rarely has time for her.

Practically it.

Well, they do live life with different interpretations and viewpoints with it.

Rice that looks funny in Sena's eyes, does not necessarily look funny in their eyes.

Sena then scoops her rabbit rice ears while lifting her lips, trying to understand the umpteenth anomaly on her first day of school.

It is true that the teacher of the class was almost forgotten because his mental day was drained of facing another anomaly called mathematics.

The hardest time was the first time.

The name of the homeroom teacher who was also almost forgotten it again appeared when Sena was choosing between the right cheek or the left cheek to be taken spoon in the next chew.

Adisa Senapati second-third class, awaited Mr. Pras in the art room after school.

Prasmono, the name of the homeroom teacher who returned through the announcement of his class speaker.

Sena had a fair amount of trouble translating it despite being announced three times due to the noise around and the school mic which somehow always makes simple sentences sound complicated.

Do all the school speakers sound like this?

Sena then spent the left eye of the rabbit which was deliberately left to end his lunch, while recalling the route he used this morning.

Somehow he got to the teacher's room without getting lost by just walking following the majority of the crowd.

Just sec.

The movement of the palm that was about to press the lid suddenly stopped in order to recall the contents of the announcement.

...in the art room after school.

Mr pras art teacher?

The question that Sena thought only resonated in her mind turned out to be spoken directly by her lips.

It was loud enough to make Zalva who was eating a piece of bread turn his head and slow down his chewing.

Judging from the loudness of the voice that only reached the nearest ear and the position of the face that turned slightly towards him, made Zalva feel the question was directed at him.

He twisted his pupils, saw this new friend of mine through the crack of his hair, wondering if he should actually answer.

"Yes." Yeah."

Sena frowned, hearing the strange reaction of her more bizarre question.

But why was the answer just now heard in a slightly lower tone?

The spoon that slipped suddenly from her hand resuscitated Sena back to the real world.

And realized Sena that the answer he heard did not come from his mind.

Except for Zalva.

Sena stared at Zalva awkwardly; thinking of an impossible way to erase Zalva's memories of ordinary questions that somehow sounded embarrassing to Sena.

"Oh so, huh? Haha... "

Sena then grimaced small while continuing her activities cleaning cutlery.

The silence that followed only in the area where they both sat made Sena even more awkward.

In contrast to Zalva who seemed to enjoy a peaceful and quiet chewing time, while staring at the trees in the distance from the window.

At least that's how it looks.

In fact, Zalva was anxious that his small words did not remind Sena of their meeting at the time.

Hopefully this friend is not a person who is easily suspicious or easy to remember something.

A questionable mutter from Sena made Zalva panic again, confused about reacting or pretending not to hear it.

When he decided to choose the second option, Sena extended the question.

"Where's the art room?"

Zalva glanced at Sena at a glance, then moved slowly to pick up the pen and tear off a piece of paper.

The drawing floor plan of the third floor of their classroom and the fourth floor where the art room is located.

It's not really that hard to find an art room. All it takes is a straight walk from the stairs and then turn to the right.

But the interior of the room that looks like a class in general makes the searchers often fooled.

I don't know what was on Mr. Pras' mind when he made the room look like an ordinary class, with a secret door to a hall full of art tools.

Without any wooden planks or markers that indicate it is an art room.

Zalva draws each space in a square shape, then writes the name of the room right in the middle of that square.

Everything was a slow drawing in silence, the result of a quick thought on how to show the way to Sena without having to listen to her voice.

Sena stared at each square carefully, projecting its real form in imagination.

Zalva drew it in considerable detail; evidenced by two small rectangles in the hallway bearing cabinets and something like a flower without petals inscribed with trees.

He even furnished his floor plan with windows and doors.

Sena watched the drawing process in front of her enthusiastically even though her facial water remained expressionless.

Zalva looks deftly set the thickness of the thin scratches ballpoint pen, combining various straight lines and curved lines to draw the desired shape.

Sena admires the shrewdness of Zalva's fingers playing his ballpoint pen; unlike her who can't draw a perfectly round circle.

Too curved, lines that do not meet each other if without coercion, until the final line is greater or smaller than the starting line; all the difficulties it has been through when drawing something as simple as a circle.

Sena's eyes then stopped on another line that was slightly different from her friends.

A purplish-red line that was above the skin of Zalva's hand, poked out from behind the uniform sleeves the buttons had removed.

A line that looks like a wound.

The line that evokes Sena's memories is almost buried covered in dust.

The line that made her return to the incident that almost crushed her knees and calves.

In a blurry image of Sena's memory on the verge of awakening, he sees someone approaching her with a bloody arm after being slashed by one of the gang of bad boys.

The hand that checked the breath flow on his nose with blood flowing from a line of torn skin.

The smell of fresh blood further obscured Sena's view, and that was her last memory before fainting.

Zalva allowed his curved line to appear less curved by cutting it down, taking a quick look at it, then putting it on Sena's desk.

The arm that stretched almost straight made the wound under Zalva's wrist appear half.

Immediately pulled his hand quickly then put together the cuff of his open wrist by buttoning it.

Zalva let out a slow breath, assuring his mind that guessed Sena would not look at him because of the focus on the floor plan.

In a crucial moment like this why does the buttonhole look shrunk until the button has difficulty passing through?

Zalva stared back and forth at the paper plan and his wayward buttons in panic.

When the buttons made it in, Zalva looked up at Sena.

His heart slipped as soon as he saw Sena's pupils staring at his awkward hand.

Precisely, the wrist that was quickly covered earlier, where the wound that was trying to be covered was still visible from behind the hemisphere of his arm.

Zalva froze like Sena.

They thought of the same memories with different projections.