"Sasha… That's her name," the guy said, voice casual. Same guy who was now seating in front of me.
We were currently in the cafeteria.
I didn't look up. "Why are you telling me that? Actually—why are you even talking to me?"
I don't like people. I especially don't like people who pretend they care.
"I've seen the way you look at her," he said, grinning. "Pretty sure she's noticed by now."
"Eat your damn food… Labat," I muttered, stabbing at my tray and pretending to care about the peas.
"It's Lambert. Genius." He looked genuinely offended. "We've been talking for what—three months now? I've repeated my name a dozen times. How the hell do you still not remember it?"
I didn't respond. Just kept poking at my food. Not like I had much of an appetite anyway. End of the month, broke again. Just trying to make this sad tray of food last.
"Look," he went on, "she's the hottest, richest girl in the entire department. Guys with actual money and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass are lining up for her. You—well, you're poorer than me, man. Maybe cut your coat according to your tape?"
"That would make it oversized, genius," I muttered.
"…No, I meant your material," he corrected with a groan.
"Look, Lambot—"
"It's Lambert—"
"Whatever it is – Lambit, Labat, Lombot – I don't care. It's not like I have enough fucks in my bag of fucks to casually give a fuck to everything under the sun, so go bother someone else."
"..."
He burst out laughing. "Where the hell did you get that line? That's gotta be from an anime."
Fucking bastard. Tch.
"But seriously," he kept going, "you have a bag of fucks? Like… how does that work? Do they regenerate daily? Do you ration them out?"
At this point, I was straight-up ignoring him. Good thing I spent my last dime on these noise-cancelling headphones. Enduring his voice for three straight months was a spiritual test. I held the power button down.
[Pairing...]
I smiled slightly. Small wins.
Opened my local music app—can't afford Spotify or Apple Music right now—and tapped on my offline playlist.
Then it came.
[Battery Low.]
You've got to be kidding me.
I stared at the headphones in disbelief. "I charged you all night," I muttered, placing them on the table in silent defeat.
"…So, did you cultivate the bag of fucks? Or like, is it inherited? Can I get one too?"
"Lombert," I sighed. "Please. Just stop."
He smirked. "Wow. You almost got it right this time. Just say 'Lam'. Then 'bert'. Easy."
"Nah, I'm good. Let me eat in peace, I beg you."
He paused, finally. "Alright. But seriously… I heard Ken's planning to ask Sasha out."
My fork paused mid-air. My brow twitched. Why the hell did that bother me?
Why do I even care?
What is wrong with me?
Why does it always feel different with her?
"See that?" he said. "That look right there? That's jealousy. You act like you don't care, but you do. And I'm telling you, if you keep just staring at her from a distance like that, she'll think you're some kind of creep."
I looked at him. "It's not like that, I'm just… curious."
He snorted. "Nah. That's not curiosity, man. You like her."
I sighed. "What's your point?"
"My point is, you need to decide. Either go for it or let it go. Ken's not exactly subtle when he wants something. And you know how that guy handles competition."
I stayed quiet.
I just want to know why I feel this emotion when I see her, this familiar emotion, like I've felt it before.
"Just… shut up," I said softly.
Surprisingly, he did.
A while of silence went by, then....
"Hey," a soft voice interrupted the silence.
I looked up.
And almost choked on a damn pea.
"Can I sit here?" A beautiful smile graced her face.
"Um... No, Lambert is actually... Wait... Lambert..." I looked around, frantically searching.
Where the fuck is Lambert?!
"I'll take that as a yes," she said, then sat down. I could perceive the flowery scent of her perfume.
Why is she here?
What the hell is happening?
Over her shoulder, I saw her friends giggling and watching us from afar.
Wait a second.
Don't tell me this is a setup.
My stomach twisted.
Anger bubbled up.
I hate this. I hate all of them.
Fake smiles. Fake kindness. Always pretending. Always playing.
I stood up abruptly.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her tone soft and concerned.
I didn't meet her eyes. "Don't bother. I know what you're trying to do. Stay away from me."
I left my tray—the only food I had for the day—right there and walked away.
No appetite left.
Not after this.
Not the first time something like this has happened.
They always think it's funny. A joke. A dare.
Messing with someone for laughs.
I fucking hate it.
I stepped outside.
Didn't even have money for a cigarette.
And for some reason… it hurt. Deep in my chest. Like something was tearing at me from the inside.
Why?
Why did it hurt so much?
Maybe because, just for a moment, I thought she was different.
But she's not.
They never are.
They always use me.
Always.