First look at him, I felt like protecting him. He just looked too vulnerable to me. So fragile that a gust of wind could have blown him away. Or perhaps, thumping my feet in front of him would have scare the shit out of him.
Everytime I looked at him, he always seems to me that he's hiding from someone. More like he's hiding himself from the eyes of everyone. But he's not invisible.
His fair complexion with his black coloured frame glasses and his famous mascot, never-out-of-place hair neatly combed lying lifelessly on the top his little head. Combine with his small frame and his backpack behind his hunching back with books tightly hugged in front of his chest, he reminds me of a primary school student wandering around in a campus, lost.
Far away from his cozy home, he sends the message that he's an extremely endangered protected species that requires humble and delicate care or else will break into a million pieces once you put your finger to it.
I once saw him asking for a senior's signature, part of the orientation fuss, his hands were shaking and he was swallowing those seniors word one by one, that if you didn't get at least shit numbers of signatures, you wouldn't get their notes. He was dead serious about it, until words starts singing around that some of us doesn't give a damn about it at all. I wonder if he still has the signature list.
I once approached him, telling him not to change to a much more famous and difficult course which is of his top priority, and he thought I was a wicked senior trying to coax him to stay in a course of his least interest. If he's qualified for it, for sure he's already in it, I wonder what makes him think they would actually let him in now. His common knowledge is so shallow that a newspaper would have drown him instantly.
I could hardly bring myself to believe it, a little annoyed of his childish brainless idea, but I pitied him even more. Sometimes I felt like patting him on his head, but afraid of messing his everlasting neat hair. I never see him at ease of himself, it pains to think that he's suppressing himself from his actual feelings. Not allowed to be himself, but perhaps he is like this.?
The only time he seems lively to me was during our trip, and he joined us in our 5 year old act of playing water in the river. We were surprised, and of course gladly enlightened him. Splashing him everywhere with the yellowish water, trying our best to mess his hair, and the only sign that showed he's just like us is when he flashes a peace sign in our photo whoring session.
It feels rather different to see him finally step out of his secured locked self, but I guess its pretty rare, as he's once again back to his little hidden world.