Why did it have to be him?
He still looked familiar with those spectacles, juxtaposed with his No. 4 army uniform.
She should have known his house was on the way to the interchange. Even so, the fact he boarded the same bus she was on at 6.24pm on a Sunday seemed like the introduction to a corny joke.
After paying his fare, he walked down the aisle before taking the only seat left – the one beside her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his nametag and her suspicions were confirmed with the block letters "JOSEPH Y".
Her heart skipped a beat, struggling to comprehend the remorse festering her. Her attempts to forget were futile. This exact situation had always played out years back.
Old memories of them on the school bus flooded in. That time they laughed at an anticlimactic ending of a re-run on Cartoon Network, those discussions of their classmates' shenanigans and the days they were each other's confidants about worries from their studies, family and friendships had all led to this.
The turning point beckoned her.
"Hey Joseph."
He jumped in his seat, his gaze inching towards her. When he faced her, he scrutinised her with furrowed eyebrows.
Realising her long, dyed hair was a far cry from the standard issue bob from primary school, she muttered, "It's me. Diane."
"Oh," his expression softened, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. You're in NS now?"
"Yeah, need to book in today."
"...BMT?" she hesitated, aware of her limited knowledge from local forums and complaints of guys back in junior college.
"No, SCS- I mean sergeant school."
"Ah, it must be tough."
"But I gotta tahan anyway. Six months already, just one and a half more year."
Admiring his stalwartness, she nodded lightly, to which he grinned. She had so much to say, yet that damned smile was still enough to calm her nerves.
"You're in Uni, right?" he asked.
"I just went for my very first tutorial," she leaned against the backrest of her seat, "But I don't understand my tutor, like he goes too fast? If all the tutors are like this, I don't know what to do."
"You might wanna consult him to ask specific questions and explain stuff more. Maybe study with others in that course? Aiya, I know you can do well. So don't worry too much and trust the process."
"Ah, I think I'll do that."
He still knew what exactly to say.
So why didn't he when she needed it the most?
She had always hypothesised that time drifted them apart. Despite her scornful rejections of reality, the inevitable end of primary school marked too many diversions in their lives. She continued as a co-ed; he went to a boys' school. He did basketball; she played in the band. She skipped O Levels with the Integrated Programme; he fought through it.
They had promised to keep in touch, to stay connected with each other's lives.
She blamed those very examinations they sought solidarity in as the death knell to what they had. She tried to hold on, yet she eventually conditioned herself into a silence that would be beneficial for their immediate goals. Living through the fear they were growing up and growing apart, that final question she texted him only to be left on-
"Why are you suddenly talking to me now after four years?" he blurted out, cheeks red.
Her train of thought came crashing into the awkward silence.
She stammered what she hoped was on his mind, "I... I was really busy with school. I'm sorry for not catching up with you."
Please.
He averted his eyes. Seeing through his stoic expression, she sensed something was bottled up within him.
The rumbling of the bus plagued this silence, yet the one thought in her mind drowned everything out.
Stay in my life again.
After a moment, he turned to her and replied, "It's okay."
"You still have my number, right?"