Dr Samira's lecture ended with a smack on the nape of his neck by one of his very mature friends. He jumped from his seat, "Ow! What was that for?" He muttered, grumpy from waking up.
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He was met with the upside-down face of Yasser, looking down at him with his golden hair falling over. The gleeful smile on his face was not a good sign. Ya seteer ya rab. "Bro, come, you gotta see this!"
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"Uh, huh okay," Omar said dumbly, picking up his bag, a faint thought in his head about missing the next lecture, but he dismisses it quickly when Yasser takes his hand and bolts out the hall to the corridors.
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As he was being led, he took out his phone more out of habit than need, only to find it flooded with texts from his mom. Way too much, does she think he's 12 or something?
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Ms Noury: Omar don't forget to take out the trash when you get home
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Ms Noury: Omar don't sleep in class
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Ms Noury: Omar, did you pray duhr?
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He looked at the last one, a lump catching in his throat, before realizing his friend Yasser had stopped. Looking around at the least commonly used gate of the Uni, Omar asked, "Bro where are we?"
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"Don't look at me like that, it was Kareem's idea," Yasser said, though the excitement in his voice showed that it was a shared effort.
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"And what exactly is that idea?" Omar huffed, an incredulous smile spreading across his face.
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"WE'RE GOING TO SKIP THE LECTURE HA," Kareem showed up on a motorcycle, then proceeded to heavily exaggerate taking off his helmet, failing miserably as it got stuck on his long curly hair. "Come on, bro, you know you've been looking kinda off lately so let's go and blow off some steam!"
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Omar froze, his conscious shaking. If only Kareem knew the reason he's been like this is that he's blowing off too much steam. For once, there was too many thoughts in his head, emotions wracking around like a Ping-Pong ball. It kind of felt like a video game with choices on the screen, every choice very obviously showing the path it would take. He thought about the lecture. He thought about the texts. He didn't want to think about his mom having to ask him about Duhr.
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He looked at Kareem's held out hand. His head hurt. Just this once, he told himself. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be a new Omar. Just not today.
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Still , just 5 minutes before Asr prayer, Omar slipped out of the hangout to pray Duhr & Asr. He knows what it looks like, why is he sneaking out like a hypocrite just to do the right thing? Why is he compromising what should be prioritized? He shakes his head, doesn't matter, what matters is he doesn't feel like a failure for once... but is this what prayer's supposed to do, just something to tick off an imaginary guilt list?
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When he went back inside the bowling centre, and throughout the rest of the hangout, Omar felt restless. He never got this kind of feeling before, especially with his friends. Usually hanging out with his friends empties his brain, but it feels like the effect has turned for the opposite. The neon blue and pink lights pierced and his head ached. The music that once felt like a warm buzzing in his brain now felt grating like lava entering his ears every vulgar word being sung just making him think, why am I listening to this when I clearly know it's wrong?!
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Even his jokes didn't land well, and he constantly looked at his phone. He found himself wishing he never came in the first place.
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Of course, Kareem and Yasser didn't care for that. When it came to them, they never talked about feelings. It almost always turns into a laughter session. While it could be invalidating to some, Omar liked it that way. Talking means thinking and thinking means. Feeling.
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They walked out of the bowling centre, generic laughter sounds from Yasser and Kareem while Omar gave a small awkward smile. He never learnt how to act, a self-proclaimed open book.
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Then, he saw them. The group of boys who they'd bumped into at the start of the day. Standing infront of Kareem's motorcycle. A'ootho bi Allah. He thought.
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Finally, they noticed them. The four of them, looking like a group of hyenas, grinned to eachother. "Well, well, look who we have here," their leader - who Omar vaguely remembers his name being Anas - called out.
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Omar hadn't appreciated the fact that the guy was acting like a 90s video game villian in a cutscene, or the way the air in the parking lot carried the dizzying aroma of gasoline. He found himself, once again, regretting coming here. Kareem's voice replied along with some lame comeback - so loudly too like he was incapable of going below a certain decibel level.
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Silently, he watched from his spot - inhaling that same gasoline that was driving him crazy - as Kareem and the guy continued talking about - he couldn't care less what. Something about this being their usual spot. To his side, Yasser shuffled his feet in excitement, his hands permanently stuck to his forehead in anticipation. The staring contest was getting more boring by the second. And Omar's patience was quickly draining.
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Anas shoved Kareem's shoulder. Kareem stepped back with the force of the impact, his head turning to the side, facing him and Yasser. Omar wasn't sure what he saw in their faces that made him do what he did next, but he distinctly remembers that his own tired eyes were silently pleading 'please don't'.
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He clearly didn't get the memo because next thing Omar knew, Kareem's hand seized Anas' slightly outstretched arm, pulling him close only to punch him in the side with an uppercut.
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It was like a switch was flipped. The once static scene was filled with motion.
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One of Anas' lackeys grabbed Omar's shoulder from behind roughly, forcing him out of his daze. It was jarring. Omar's head was already buzzing with nerves, a pulsing headache persisting. All the pent-up anger and frustration at himself and at his friends for being so annoying reared its head at that one moment. That was it, he thought. This is such a mess, completely ridiculous for no reason.
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His elbow striked the guys face, and, turning around, he ripped the stupid hand off his shoulder, hands twitching for another thing to hurt, break, anything to get these feelings out. Before he could react, the guy swung a hard hook to Omar's cheek, causing him to see stars.
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His head was swimming. Over the blood rushing in his ears, he faintly hears Kareem and Yasser struggling. Then -
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"Security!"
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Immediately the boys bolted, leaving the sound of their sneakers squeaking in their wake.
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"YASTA that. was. AWESOME!" Kareem yelled out, panting in between each word.
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Yasser raised his finger to say something, letting it hang in the air as he gasped for air, "What do you mean awesome we were literally obliterated. *Masaho beena balat el ard," he said despite wearing that same mirthful grin.
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*Masaho beena balat el ard - wiped the floor tiles with us
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Meanwhile, Omar stood leaning on a brick wall with his head in his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think through the painful throbbing of his temple. What just happened. What did he just do.
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"Credit where credit's due though, Omar was the MVP in that one, right bro," Kareem pointed out, much to his horror.
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Slowly, Omar raised his head, his face incredulous. When his eyes met Kareem's amused ones, a wave of fury rushed through him. "Shut up. Just shut up man." He got up, shaking his head, and leaving towards who knows where.
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It was quiet for a bit before Kareem looked to Yasser, one eyebrow raised, "What's his problem?"
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"Bro's going through it," Yasser shrugged.117Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6wpZU3ItTd
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