Am I late?

The backlight of the G-shock flickered at 12:00.

Shit.

Don was supposed to meet the rest at Changi Airport to send Son off to Hanoi, Vietnam.

Ha Quang Son. (Pronounce: Ha-Kuang-Sen)

Don could still remember the first time he met this little guy.

- - - - -

Everyone was shuffling off to the makeshift hall for the first assembly of year 2005, paying no heed to a foreign-looking spotted teen walking along the corridors. Lugging along of what seemed like a whole year's supply of tidbits, he looked quite lost. For some reason or another, Don approached him.


"Err, hey. Are you-"

"Ah, hallo!" The boy spoke out with an unrecognisable accent.

"Ahh.. Hi! Er, looking for something?"

"Ya. I am lookin' for mah class..."

"Ok-"

"Ya. The.. um... three one."

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..
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Hm? I'm in three one.

Don turned his head slightly, and raised his arm.

"There! We're right outside the class!"

"Oh, okay! Thank you thank you!"

LoL.

"Hey, we're late for this really boring assembly thing, so... ya. Let's go to the canteen." Don nudged the blur-looking boy.

"Huh, oh! Okay."

"Oh ya, I'm WeiWen. What's your name?"

"My friends call me Shaun."

"Shaun?"

"Ya, Har Kuang Shaun. I'm from Vietnam."

"Hanoi? Phnom Penh?"

"Hanoi."

"Mm, okay. Cool. I'm from... Singapore. Nice to meet you!" Don replied with a cheeky grin.

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..
...
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And as the others might say, the rest was history.

- - - - -

It has been two years now. Funny how it has passed so quickly. It seemed like only yesterday when Son proved himself to be a mathematical genius, solving the hardest of conundrums with the slightest of ease. People might take into account his being two years older than his peers, but still, that didn't hinder him into attaining his Mensa admission.

Now, he's going back to Hanoi to spend the rest of his well-deserved holiday "hibernating". The joker simply has no other words to describe what he was going to do.

"Eat and sleep, lor. It's winter there, what," Son said matter-of-factly, his Singaporean accent a courtesy of his peers.

It turned out that Don wasn't the late one. He was, in fact, one of the earliest.

"Eh, where are you ar, Son?" Don blubbered into his Nokia 6670.

"Huh? Wa, you sending me off, ah? Thanks thanks!"

"Thanks thanks your si-lang tao, la. That's why I'm supposed to do, what. I asking where you!"

"Orhh, I still on my way. Will be reaching in ten minutes."

"Huh? I thought your flight at three p.m.? No need check in, ah?"

"No, la! My flight at five, la!"

CHEY.

"Okay, okay. I'll see you then."

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..
.

Everyone met up at about a quarter past three (Aw, Don's imaginary flight to Vietnam has already taken off.). Even Anson and MeiGui. Most went our separate ways to have some lunch, then meet back at the terminal.

After a hearty meal of Mac's, Don was told that Anson and MeiGui were going to go off. They had somewhere to go.

Right, somewhere.

"Haiyoh, Anson and MeiGui, ah!" Faris pursed his lips and pouted.

"Give them a break, la, Faris. Those two lovebirds must have been using this as an excuse to get outta the house."

"Bah, those guys, arh. Too lovey-dovey!"

"Hehe... Yeah." Don smiled.

Those two had quite a tumultuous relationship. It was pretty comforting to see them finally working out their differences and getting together once again.

"So, where to now?" Don asked.

"To budget terminal, lor."

Uhhh, budget terminal?

Woot.

It was quite expected of Budget terminal to have whitewash walls, plain tiles, and dirty seats.

"Haiyur! Why got coffee on this seat, one?"

"BUDGET terminal, ma."

"Why the toilet cannot make it, one?"

"BUDGET terminal, ma!"

"Why-"

"BUDGET terminal, ma!!"

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..
...
..
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... Yeah. You get the drift.

Still, the terminal has its redeeming qualities, like one of its corners being painted a myriad of colours. Again, it was Faris's idea that we took a group photo there. It didn't turn out half bad, too. For some reason, it was as if the picture was taken from a casting of "Friends".

"Call for Flight 1xxxxxx to Hanoi, Vietnam." The loudspeakers blared with a familiar monotony.

"Okay, I think I have to go now."

"Aw..."

Hugs and handshakes were exchanged.

"Take care, man."

"Hey, you too."

And there we go, two years of insanity...
...And he'll be back in a month, in National JC.

"Cya, Son!"