There was once this boy whom everyone whispered about.

He was not disfigured, and nor was he mean. He exuded an aura of tranquillity and kindness that immediately put me at ease. Yet still, wherever he went, rumours rang behind him.

I was a quiet boy who sat under a blossom tree every day during break, so I had no intervention in this. As I sat every day, I could hear the whispers of groups of girls and boys passing by and the one thing that I heard the most was:

"Is he real? Why does he act so strangely?"

"What a freak."

These threw me into confusion; what, just what, made this boy so controversial? But I paid no effort in investigating this case, and to avoid the public's eye, I evaded talking, looking at, or even passing by him.

Eventually, May, the month of fertility, came, and I finally had the chance to look at him closely.

It was once a day after the piercing shriek of the school bell, and everyone burst like an uncontrolled wave out of the school gates. I went to my usual spot under the tree, for my parents were coming late.

That's when I saw a silhouette over the glorious dome of the sunset sky*.

He, alone, was seen, with his shadow as the subject of the tapestry brimmed with the mixture of wine and fire that was once known as soil and cement*.

He idled over to a blossom tree, and the stunning array of colours soon surrounded his body. Delicate petals scattered throughout the trees and swirled in the breeze. The green grass flecked with spots of yellow, pink, and purple. Amongst the sea of flowers, there was one vibrant, scarlet blossom that stood tall and proud. The boy held the branch carefully and with great care, as if it were fragile fine china, admiring its exquisitely shaped petals.

I couldn't help but ask, "Why are you so interested in this flower?" This scene that I had seen over the past few years--how this plain, little flower be such a subject of admiration?

He turned towards me with his relaxed smile. "Can you not help but be amazed at how this little blossom arose from a seed?"

I stared at him.

He soon turned back and cupped his ear to the blossom, then which I asked again:

"What are you--"

Before I could finish, he held a finger towards me, motioning for me to be quiet. A few seconds pass, and he releases the branch from his grasp.

"Every leaf, every tiny blossom, amicus meus, though appearing to be insignificant, are the children of mother nature, laughing with the tints of life, and speak hope and bliss to me, peeking nervously from their home*. They need not the winds of cruel summer to illuminate their beauties."

I continued to stare, finally no longer confused by the other students, as I wondered, "Is this boy insane? Or just delusional?"

"Yeah, cause' I definitely have the time to stand around listening to flowers--"
My sentence was soon cut off as an intoxicating smell overflowed my senses. A tiny blossom,

smiling at me, is presented under my nose.

Deep inside me, the fruits of curiosity are growing and filling, becoming too heavy for its branches.* But when I looked up again, the boy was already walking away, disappearing over the horizon, just like how he came.

This encounter was soon tossed to the back of my mind as it was filled with schoolwork yet again.

Months later, as I sat on a bench during the night at a park, I saw a silhouette that I knew too well approaching me.

The raging wind watched my shivering self with no pity as it sharpened its blades, slicing through my heart and penetrating my bones. I raised my hands to my neck as my last resort for warmth, then heard the boy plopping down next to me.

We sat around in silence for a moment.

"Hey...Do you get annoyed when people whisper all those things about you?" "What things?"
I turned my head to him wondrously.
"You know, the ones about your behaviour...?"

The boy laughed and shook his head. "Oh, those? No, I don't mind them at all. You see, it comforts me knowing they're not treating me like just any other person. To many, they would try their best to "fit in", but I thought, why should I betray myself for the opinion of others that could change at any time? All for nothing?"

As my brain attempts to grasp this, something flicked inside of me. I was thrown off my balance.

'This boy. The one who talks to himself. The one who listens to flowers. The one who is unbothered by everyone else. Of course he doesn't care about fitting in. He would not understand if he is in a world of his own.'

'But why does he sound like he's making sense right now?'

The boy continued, "Besides, I had heard mother nature's calling for me to acknowledge myself; after all, when we give up our traits for the sake of another person, we slowly lose part of our individuality, and, finally, we can't recall who we are anymore."

Turbulence rises in my veins as I wonder about this mysterious boy. 'Solivagant? No. He cares about everyone and everything. Selcouth? But why does he feel so familiar? No...Arcane; misunderstood by so many.'

I turned to him once more only to see him admiring the sky and followed his gaze above. The velvet sky sprinkled with glittering stars smiled at me; they seem extra irenic tonight.

"Starry night, you seem, woven from the stuff of history and present, obtaining the countless unknown." The boy commented.

"How does the universe speak to you? How come I've never heard it?"

The boy muttered, "This universe has a communal voice which you can only discover through the closest observation."

"How?"

"Everything in this universe is interconnected." He smiled softly at the twinkling star. "Everything. Even if you can't always tell, it is always there. Through the small things surrounding you, you may hope to discover this voice. At least that's how I did it."

I stared at the boy.

"You are making not much sense right now."

"Call me odd, sure, but would that not be you speaking out of your biases?"

My eyes widened. I thought about this again and again, over and over again. Am I?

"You can only understand me through your perspective, but is that not what changes everything? The perspective?"

I slowly close my eyes.

Everything around me, the echoes of the playing children, the sirens of cars buzzing by...They all fade away.

The chirping of the birds, the gentle breeze...I felt carried away by the winds.

I pushed back, fighting the forces, though it would be easier if I just flew away smoothly with the wind.

The rustling of the tree leaves, whispering for me to not be another one who gives up themselves to mix in with the crowds.

Is this the communal voice the boy spoke about? I opened my eyes and smiled at the boy.

Maybe he does have a point.

I asked, "What is your name?"

He replied, "Nathan."

Nathan. The first person I've met who didn't care about 'Fitting in'.

And honestly?

It was kind of like a breath of fresh air to me.

End.

Original quotes:

*"...and her eyes filled with visions, looked out unheedingly across the city roof and spire to that glorious dome of sunset sky..." --Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

*"...in the splendor like a huge bowl of pearl and sapphire brimmed with wine and fire..." --Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

*"Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree." --Emily Brontë

*”In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.” —John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath