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[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Getting it right

The coda of Do whatever you want, years later.

He was a counter. Since the first he sat down with his coffee – which he intended to finish this time, unlike the last time he was here when he just left without even taking a single sip – he had been throwing glances at his watch every once in a while, watching as the arm inched the minutes forward from five, to ten, then fifteen. It was not a gesture of impatience because he knew well he'd arrived early; rather, it was something he did to soothe his nerves, to calm the troops of thoughts running in his mind. Because he had always been a counter, so count he did. 

He saw her walk through the café's glass doors on his seventeenth minute of waiting. She spotted him right away, gave a small smile and nod of acknowledgement before wandered to the register to place her order – a less-iced americano, he guessed, because that was how she took her coffee whenever she felt the need for some extra courage, which he figured she might need now for their upcoming conversation. 

Exactly four minutes after she arrived, she sat down on the chair in front of him across the table. She flashed him a hesitant smile before taking a sip of her, as he guessed, less-iced americano. Mirroring her actions, he lifted his cup too, closing his eyes for a moment as the hot liquid traveled down his throat. 

"Sorry for making you wait." 

Her voice snapped his eyes open. She was watching him, her cup back on the table, sporting the same hesitant smile from before. "No, I arrived early. Did you drive here?" 

"Nah, took the cab to work today." 

"Car gas almost empty?" 

Her smile broke into a bashful grin. "Was in a rush this morning, no time to stop by the gas station." 

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. "You really should start filling up your car before it's nearly empty, princess." 

"I know, sorry." 

Silence fell between them. Silence was good, he told himself, because it would force them to talk. That was why he'd asked to meet here; the café was a neutral territory, and more importantly it was public, enabling them to have silences that would force them to talk – which was exactly what they desperately needed. 

Truth be told, he'd been feeling the need to really talk to her for a while now. It was something they'd always struggled with, had been since the early months of their relationship, and still even now after the three years and eight months (yes, he counted) together – if they could still be considered together, that was. They had been going on and off for as long as he could remember; their differences in pretty much everything kept getting in the way, and neither of them knew how to handle the inevitable disputes and disagreements in a healthy way. Yet they couldn't seem to stop loving each other – or at least he couldn't anyway. He couldn't say for sure for her, but at least she still cared enough to show up here as he asked. 

He did ask her to come, not the other way around, so the least he could do was to take the first step to break the silence. "So. Where do we go from here?" 

She looked surprised, but no confusion, which told him that she understood exactly what he meant. But then he saw the glint in her eyes, and he hated himself for knowing exactly how she was going to respond before she did. "Nowhere, I think, if we were about to use my gasless car." 

He rolled his eyes as she chuckled dryly at her own joke. It was one of the three ways they usually used to avoid the elephant in the room. He thought he probably should be grateful that she went with jokes this time, which was arguably the easiest to deal with compared to the two alternatives. 

Apparently she still possessed the ability to follow his thoughts, because she pointed out just that. "The jokes are better, right? Or would you rather I storm out of this café just like you did the last time we were here?" 

He flinched at the recollection. "I guess I deserve that." Storming out mid-fight was his most used method. Partly because he never considered himself a funny person to begin with so he could never make the effort to crack a joke to get out of an overdue argument, but mainly because it was the most effective way to avoid raising his voice at her. "Why don't we try to actually talk about it this time?" 

She dropped her easy demeanor all of a sudden. Rubbing her eyes with her hand, she looked tired now. "We tried talking, didn't we? It never ended well. In case you forgot, our last attempt was just three days ago, and where did it get us? Back to square one." 

She'd cracked first at their last episode of ghosting each other, ending up knocking at his apartment door in the middle of the night after eight days of nothing. Indeed they had tried talking, but it had escalated into a fight rather quickly. She'd been exhausted and frustrated, both of them were, but apparently she'd been missing him too because she'd ended up kissing him instead of talking to him, which was her most used method to skirt around the suffocating elephant in the room. Took him the total of ten seconds (of course he counted) before relenting to her tactics because of course he'd missed her too. 

"We'll talk after this," she'd whispered in between heated kisses as she backed him towards the direction of his bedroom. "Now I just miss you too much to think of anything else." 

So instead of having a proper conversation, they'd ended up tangled together in his sheets, as they often found themselves after many of their unresolved disputes. It definitely didn't leave much room to talk. 

"Hey, you're the one keeping me occupied all night long," she accused when he pointed out her unkept promise. "And we woke up late the next morning. Not nearly enough time to talk." 

He remembered the next morning all too well, remembered her scrambling out of his (arms) bed and muttering curses once she realized she barely had an hour before her first meeting. He'd sat on his bed for the next fifteen minutes, watching her series of scurried movements: yanking his closet door open to reach for one of the spare office attire she'd kept there, rushing to the bathroom for a quick shower, then stumbling out of the en suite looking impressively ready for the day. She'd suddenly stopped in front of him to reach for her hair tie – which he'd pulled off her ponytail and put on his own wrist the night before. He'd caught her hand just before she turn to leave. "Good morning."  

She'd sighed, looking defeated, and leaned in for a kiss. "Morning," she'd murmured to his lips. "Sorry about this. We talk later?" 

He shook his head to get the terrifyingly vivid image of her lips moving on his out of his mind. Cleared his throat before saying, "So let's talk right here, right now." 

"Is that why you asked to meet here?" she asked dryly. "So that I can't jump you and steer you away from talking like I did the other night?" 

"Yes," he said firmly. "You can't keep doing that, princess. We can't keep doing that, this – uncertain back and forth. So again, where do we go from here?" 

She opened her mouth to answer, and for a split second he thought she could be making another joke – but then he saw the flash of earnestness in her eyes, and he just knew she wouldn't. "I honestly don't know. What do you even think "here" is? What do you think do we have at the moment?" 

"Exactly what I said earlier. Uncertain back and forth." Weeks of thinking about this conversation made the words came rather easily to his mind, easier than most of the time. "Let's start from there. Why do you think are we stuck in this limbo of uncertain back and forth?" 

It seemed like she had spent some time thinking about this too, because she answered immediately. "We just have too many differences, in our nature, in our views, in how we deal with things. And I don't think we know how to deal with it without making a fight out of it." 

"Yet." 

She blinked. "Pardon?" 

"We don't know how to deal with it yet," he muttered. "I think all these years we haven't really tried to figure out the healthy way to navigate our differences. We focus too much on the differences themselves and fall back to the familiar way of arguing every single time." 

Taking a long sip of her americano, she pondered for a moment. "You might be right," she finally said, and he couldn't help but feel relieved that they had agreed on something. "I do feel arguing is the easiest way out because we never finish, you know? We never get to the bottom of the issue when we argue, and I feel like it's giving me more time to stall, to push back on addressing the issue properly." 

"Do you not want to address our issues properly?" 

"I do. It's just – it feels dreadful for me, because of our differences." He saw her grip on her coffee cup tighten a little. "I kind of have this... lingering thought, on the back of my mind, that we could never be together because we're just too different. I think I started to take that as some sort of... excuse, whenever we argue or fight. I mean, we won't work anyway, so why bother getting to the bottom of things?" 

Her answer made him recoil to the back of his chair. "You don't think we could be together? Even after the past three years?" 

"Especially because of the past three years. Don't you think so too?" 

"If that so," he continued, deliberately ignoring her question, "why do you keep coming back to me and keep letting me come back to you?" 

"I don't know, okay?" she snapped. It was the first spark igniting her fiery temper, a familiar first sign of the beginning of a heated argument. It seemed like she realized that too, because she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Sorry. Old habit. Give me a minute." 

He nodded, appreciating both her realization and her effort to not slip into their familiar fighting cliff. He saw her face contorted in something similar to discomfort, as if she was swallowing a bitter pill, but he could see that she was really trying to put together an answer for his question. 

"I think," she started after a while, "I probably just... can't get enough of you. And I'm not talking about the sex. I mean it's great," she added hastily because he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her. "You know exactly I won't jump you as often as I did otherwise. But it's more than that. I just – I like being with you," she said, slowly, as if she just realized that herself. "I like having you around, being around you. Which doesn't really make sense because we fight and argue way too often for our own good, but there's just... something, about your presence, your being in general, that attracts me, keeps me coming back to you every time. I can't really explain why – hell, I don't even know why myself." 

He kept his eyes on her the whole time, even though hers darted everywhere but him. She only looked at him when he said, "Do you think that's what love is?" 

Her entire being rippled at his words, her eyes impossibly wide he could see the whites all around. She stared at him in silence for a good fifteen seconds; he could practically see the gears turning inside her head. "That's possible," she whispered, more to herself. "Yeah, I think I love you." 

She sounded so astonished it was almost comical. His logical self thought the situation was almost comical; they'd been together for almost four years now, he'd been so sure he loved her since the early months, had told her that numerous times on numerous occasions, and yet she only realized she loved him too just now. But he held himself. "What do you want to do about that?" he asked instead. 

She tilted her head, still looking stunned. "I'm sorry," she breathed, running a hand through her hair. "You've been telling me you love me this whole time, but I never said it back, didn't even realize – " 

He waved a hand airily. "No, don't beat yourself up for it." 

Silence fell between them. He could see that she was deep in her thoughts, so he let her, using the time to fulfill his promise of finishing his drink. Because he was a counter, he still stole occasional, discreet glances towards his watch just to count the time. 

Two minutes and a half later, she looked up to him, and in turn ask his original question. "So... where do we go from here?" 

"You think you love me," he reminded her. "What do you want to do about that?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Well, you're not giving me any choices now, are you?" 

"On the contrary, princess, you have plenty of options. Again, depends on what you want to do." 

She chewed the inside of her cheeks as if considering, but when she spoke her voice was firm and sure. "I want to love you. I want to be with you." 

He let himself smile a little, betraying only a bare portion of happiness he was feeling inside. "But you said you thought we could never be together. Too different, remember?" 

Her glare made it seem like she was about to snap a snarky remark at him – which, he admitted, he kind of deserved a little for his offhand comment – but then she sighed in defeat. "I think it's like what you said earlier. We haven't really tried to work on our differences properly – well, I haven't, at the very least. So how about we... try getting it right? For real this time?" 

This time he beamed, letting her know how happy he was without holding back. "Sure, if that's what you want." 

"Is that what you want?" 

He waited five whole seconds – yes, he counted, because he was always a counter – before leaning across the table to kiss her. "I want nothing more." 

[corrretan]

Why not both tho!

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Coffee calls

The whole thing started off inadvertently. On one of the many Tuesday nights he spent at the café, he decided to look up from his thesis and noticed that the table right in front of his was occupied. 

The resident of the table was sitting on the chair facing him, and because she was just peacefully drinking her coffee without being engaged in a book or a device or any other kind of distractions in front of her, she noticed he was staring right away and threw him a smile. It was sweet, he noticed as he returned the act; she had the type of eyes that easily went up on the edges as she smiled, and it looked like it brightened up her entire face. Quite possibly her entire world, too. 

The next Tuesday night, she was at the café before him. Again, she inhabited the table in front of his usual one; again, she was accompanied only by her coffee, without any other sort of entertainment. This time he smiled at her first as he passed her on the way to his table. She smiled back, again the whole features of her face (and quite possibly her entire world too) lighting up with the act. 

The third Tuesday night, he got off work early. He arrived at the café earlier than his usual schedule and found the table in front of him was still empty. As he waited for his laptop to finish loading all of the tabs and apps he'd need for his thesis, he found himself thinking that if by any chance he met the Tuesday night lady with the bright smile again tonight, maybe it was fate or something. 

Apparently it turned out to be something more. 

"Excuse me," a voice came from a really, really close distance in front of him, nearly making him jump. He looked up – he'd been too absorbed in one particular journal he was reading it with his eyes inches away from his laptop screen, so he hadn't noticed that he got company. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you." 

He sat upright so quickly he thought it snapped a few of his bones, but didn't have the capacity to properly register the damage – not when Tuesday night lady with the bright smile was there, occupying the chair right across his table, flashing her sweet, sweet smile at him. Of course the only thing he could do at the moment was smile back at her as he'd been doing for the past couple of weeks. "No, no worries. Um, can I help you with something?" 

She breathed out a short, soft laugh, and if he thought her smile was oh so sweet, her laughter was almost syrupy he thought he could drown and got diagnosed by diabetes – and be perfectly content with it, he thought. "Sorry, you must think I'm some sort of a creep for inviting myself to sit with you all of a sudden." 

"Not at all," he couldn't help but hastily say because she was anything but creepy and he couldn't have her think otherwise even for just a second. "Earlier before you arrived, I considered to say hi to you myself if I see you again tonight." 

He didn't think her smile could get any brighter than the ones he'd seen before, but apparently it could. And this time not only it brightened up her entire face and quite possibly her entire world too, but also quite possibly his entire world, too. "Really? I swear I don't have any ill intention of any sort, it's just – I was pleasantly surprised that you always smile back at me. People don't really smile at each other anymore nowadays." 

That opinion alone got him to snap his laptop closed and tune his entire attention to her. "Tell me about it." 

She did tell him. She also told him many other things, including her name and why she started coming to the café every Tuesday night ("just to enjoy myself a good cup of coffee after such a long day, since Tuesday is the hardest day of the week for me"). He told her many things too, including his name and how he had dedicated his Tuesday nights to work on his thesis here. It led to conversations about many other things, and he found himself fascinated by two things: that they actually had a lot of opinions in common, and how very easy it was for him to talk to her despite only knowing her for barely an hour. 

One more thing that fascinated him was her, because he would definitely be lying if he said he was not attracted to her in any sort. It's too early to tell what kind of attraction it was, and he also didn't know whether he wanted to do anything about it yet, but there was just something in her that allured him. Maybe it was fate or something. 

When they parted ways later that night, they made no promises of seeing each other again, nor did any of them confirm that they would be back at the café same time next week. He didn't ask for her number, even though he wanted to. Something told him not to. 

Next week, he found her already sitting on his table. She smiled at him, which he returned as he sat down across her. "Back at it again, are we?" he mused, to which she laughed – the same syrupy laugh he thought he could drown in and be perfectly content with it. 

And back at it again were they, easily falling to the same rhythm of conversations about various random things, from politics to the economy to that movie that just came out. They never talked about personal things, he noticed; their views and opinions on a bunch of topics and phenomenon, sure, but never really about themselves. In fact, as he ran over the entire night again later during his drive to home, the most personal things exchanged between them so far were their names and what were they doing at the café every Tuesday night – which was on the very beginning of their conversation last week. 

The next Tuesday night, they happened to arrive at the café on the exact same time; he spotted her walking across the parking lot as he got off his car. It inevitably exposed two more personal details about the two of them; their transportation modes (she took rides because she couldn't drive), and how they took their coffees (she liked hers bitter). But it didn't change anything on the nature of... whatever was going on between them; they still talked about anything and everything except for themselves. Something told him to be a little bolder and point out the fact to her. "It almost feels like a booty call, except instead of sex, we're having talks with no personal feelings." 

She laughed at that, the most amused he'd heard of her so far. "Maybe we can call this a coffee call," she suggested. 

Despite his bold move of comparing whatever thing they have with a freaking booty call, nothing in their dynamics changed; they just continued on with their impersonal discussions every Tuesday night. She still didn't talk about herself, and something told him to follow her lead. He had to schedule another dedicated night for his thesis outside of Tuesday because there was no way he could make a proper progress during their coffee calls, but he didn't mind the least. Not when it meant he could spend his Tuesday nights with her, allowing himself to be allured even further by her. 

It went on for a few more weeks, until on one Tuesday night he arrived at their table – it was no longer his table now – and found her crying. 

Instinctively, he sat down on the chair next to her instead of across her as usual. "Hey, what happened? Are you okay?" 

She didn't answer right away; she couldn't, because she was still sobbing and she couldn't seem to stop. He didn't press further and waited, handing her tissues and giving her occasional pats on her shoulder. Once she calmed down, she turned to face him, and he couldn't help but think that her smiles suited her way, way better than her tears did, and that he might be willing to do just about anything to prevent said tears from replacing her smile ever again. "I know we don't really share personal stuff with each other," she started. He wanted to correct her, to tell her that she could share everything with him, but something told him to wait out the pause. "But I just broke up with my boyfriend." 

Maybe, he thought as he listened to her first ever personal story, maybe this was the beginning of the next level of their coffee calls. Maybe everything they'd gone through was really meant to be as they were, leading them up to this moment and what awaited them next. Maybe it was fate or something. 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Voicemails

About a member of the group led by the leader mentioned in We are in this together.

Coming here was not on her original plan at all, but so was falling in love with him. Still didn't stop her from foolishly doing both.

She knew both the waitress and the barista currently on duty, having worked with the two of them during the fateful summer when she worked here, and returned their smiles and hellos. For a fleeting second she thought it was sweet of them to still remember her despite not seeing her for more than a year. When asked what her order would be, her tongue answered before her brain could conjure up something more sensible. 

"Coconut mint iced mocha." 

The barista laughed. "It's not in season, but we'll make it work for you." 

She knew perfectly well it was not in season, because no one in the right mind would order a summer special on the coldest night of November. But of course she did, because it was the drink he ordered the night she met him, and of course she would order it after those voicemails. 

The voicemails were the first time she'd heard his voice again after a month of radio silence. Which she'd asked for, she reminded herself, so she really didn't have the right to blame anyone but herself. The voicemails were the final blow, one that made her grip the steering wheel of her car impossibly tightly as she tried to keep her mind from spiraling out of control. Instead, she spiraled her car here; she really shouldn't, but of course she did because this was where she very first met him. 

Hello, it's me. I don't know if you'll ever listen to this because there's a really good chance you'll just delete this without ever listening to it, but just in case you do listen, I want to apologize in advance. The team dragged me out for drinks to celebrate the end of our promotion, and it may give me the encouragement to do stupid stupid things, very likely somewhat related to you. So here's my humble apology because I might not remember any of tonight's event enough to apologize tomorrow morning. 

Her unconventional drink arrived at her table just after her brain finished replaying the first voicemail. She remembered it word for word, just like she remembered every other thing he'd ever said to her word for word. She always considered her ability to memorize things was not her best quality, so how she was able to recite him ad verbum every single freaking time was beyond her. She'd once considered it a lucky miracle, but now it just felt like an unfunny joke blowing right on her face. 

He was right, though; listening to the voicemails hadn't been on her original plan at all. She noticed the voicemails when she was walking out of her office, half a mind already made up to just delete them right away, but then her thumbs got the better of her and pressed play instead while she was stuck in traffic. She'd planned to listen only to the first one and delete the rest, but once his sweet, intoxicating voice filled in her car through the speakers, she just couldn't stop. She remembered thinking that the universe must be laughing at her ability to plan as his second voicemail came through. 

Hello, it's me again. Wanted to tell you how much it hurts for me. That's what you want to hear, right? I know you do this on purpose, I know having the conversation right before the comeback season starts was exactly your intention. To wreck me when I'm needed at my most was exactly your intention. Do you think it's supposed to make the whole thing easier for me? Make it easier for me to hate you, forget you? The answer is, it doesn't. I still miss you every day. I miss you every day it physically hurts. 

She knew. Oh, she really knew how it physically hurt him. He was a global pop idol, and his group was in the middle of promoting their new album. Videos of him performing his new songs on various shows were everywhere, and some eagle-eyed fans had pointed out how he looked a bit different, how he looked tired and sleepless and just a tiny bit less cheerful than his usual bubbly self. Most of the fans associated the symptoms with exhaustion from the comeback season, that he was just feeling under the weather at the moment, and she – being the coward that she was – was glad to see the false theories, thinking that it might as well become true if she believed it hard enough. 

Until the ugly truth hit her in the form of a text one early morning. It was from the leader of his group, a man that was widely considered as an extra parent for his bandmates, letting her know that he was briefly rushed to the hospital due to hyperventilation. He's back at the dorms now, the doctor gave him something to help him sleep because he's exhausted and having trouble sleeping. Called out your name a couple of times in his sleep. Thought you'd want to know. 

She'd thanked the leader for letting her know, knowing that his intentions were good and he was not blaming her at all, even though he really should because it really was her fault.

She'd told him as much the last time they spoke, had apologized for the way things ended between them after the year and a half they had together. 

"Don't apologize – it's not your fault," he'd told her, speaking in that soft tone he very rarely used. "I understand this crazy idol life of mine really isn't for everyone. It's fine." 

But it was really not, so she still apologized profusely nonetheless. She'd told him she felt sorry for the entire situation, sorry for ending up falling in love with him – 

He'd perked up when he heard the words slipping off her tongue. "You do?" he'd asked in disbelief. "Because I think I do too. Love you, I mean. Is it – " She remembered his face clearly, looking hesitant but hopeful at the same time. "If that's the case, do you not want to try this out? Do you think you love me enough to see whether things could work between us?" 

She'd told him she didn't know, at least not at the moment. And at the moment, taking the leap of faith to try and see if they could work things out felt too risky and uncertain for her, not when she really just longed for some stability in her life. So anything risky and uncertain was not something she would like to do. 

She remembered his face clearly, lovely features falling in disappointment – but a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes was quick to take over, to conceal. She remembered noticing that he had never needed to conceal anything from her before. "I understand," he'd told her. "It would be selfish of me to ask you to try this out when you don't want the same thing." After that, he'd left without another word. 

Hello, me again. I know I said it'll be selfish if I ask you for something you don't want, but for once I really wish I could be that selfish, you know? I want to be selfish and ask you to reconsider, I want to be selfish and ask you to be patient with me and my idol life and give our relationship a try. Because I fear that I'm too deep in love with you to give you up, and I've seen a case where it can work – you know my leader? I told you he has a long-term girlfriend, right? They went through everything together, his idol life, her cancer illness, and now he's planning on proposing, so in theory things could work between us. But I understand that you want stability, which I currently cannot promise for you, so I really can't do anything about it If you don't want it to work between us. 

The scariest thing was, now that she thought about it as she took an embarrassingly long sip of her unseasonal beverage – secretly imagining that she was drinking in his entire being for her to keep forever instead of just drinking his choice of coffee – she feared she might just be leaning towards that, wanting things to work between them. But it was an incredibly scary thought, one she didn't know whether she would ever have the courage to deal with, being the coward that she was. That was why she decided to deal with it in a cowardly way, which was the only way she knew: by breaking things off with him. Despite knowing perfectly well that the two of them were still very much in love with each other. 

Hello, my sweetest, it's still me – 

His fourth voicemail was cut off short, but was immediately continued by the next one. 

Sorry about that. My leader took the phone away. He said he has to stop me if I start calling you my sweetest, which is the dumbest thing ever because you really are my sweetest, you really are the sweetest thing that's ever happened in my life. Could you please call me back, let me back in your life – 

It was the last voicemail, and it was also cut off mid-sentence. She wondered which of his bandmates had snatched his phone away from him this time. She also wondered how much he'd remember the next morning, how much his bandmates would tell him. But on top of all, she wondered if she'd made the right choice, because she wasn't sure if the right choice should hurt this much. 

She nearly jumped at the sound of her phone ringing, announcing a call from his leader. Because the last time his leader had contacted her was to let her know he was hospitalized, she didn't hesitate and picked up in no time. "Did something happen?" 

There was a second of pause. "Oh, no. I mean – things happened, but he's here with me, still in one piece, not being rushed to the ER or anything." 

She let out a shaky, relieved breath. "That's good. He's really wasted, isn't he?" 

"Beyond belief," he sighed. "Think he just really wants to lose himself for some time. But don't worry, I'm not drinking a single drop to keep an eye on him tonight. I assumed you listened to the voicemails?" 

She leaned her forehead to one hand. "I did, yeah." 

"The reason I'm calling is because he told me specifically – when he was still sober, that is – to do two things. One is to stop him if he starts calling you – " 

"My sweetest," she unconsciously cut him off.  "Sorry, please continue." 

"Yeah, that. The other thing he asked me to do is to call you if he starts begging you to take him back or something like that. He asked me to tell you to not listen to him, that no matter how much he begs and whines and cries, do not let that cloud your judgement, and that you should continue doing what you really want." 

She gulped. He'd made the preventive measures just for her. "Got it. Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." He paused for a moment. "Now that that's out of the way, how are you feeling?" 

Hurt, she thought. Stupid. Confused. Scared. Missing him. "I'm breathing." 

He let out a quiet chuckle. "Breathing isn't really a feeling, but I get what you mean. Hang in there, yeah?" 

She didn't want to ask; she was scared of hearing the answer. But of course she did anyway. "How... how is he?" 

Another pause, longer than before. She imagined the leader was considering how much of the truth he should tell her. Finally he settled for, "He's not fine, obviously, but he will be. Eventually." 

Like how the voicemails was the final blow for her before going here, his answer was the final blow to her crumbling self-defense. She felt the tears first, then had just enough time to bring a hand to her mouth to keep the following sobs from escaping. 

But his leader, being the caring, thoughtful leader that he was, seemed to notice anyway, because his voice was incredibly soft when he said, "You will be fine too, alright? Eventually." 

"I'm really sorry," she choked. "For making him a mess during your comeback season. For ruining your celebratory night tonight. For making you babysit him the entire night instead of celebrating. I'm really sorry for everything." 

"No, it's really not your fault," he said, still with the same soft tone. "Try not to worry too much, yeah? We'll take care of him for you." 

For her. They'll take care of him for her. 

It was another final blow for her. Later that night, once she was standing alone in the darkness of her apartment, she reached for her phone and left him a voicemail. 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Private lessons

It was nearing eight and he had been waiting for only about fifteen minutes when the two people he was waiting for came through the door. 

He felt that he was quite familiar with everything about her by now, and at the moment even from afar he could see the tip of her ears were red. As she and her friend came closer to the table where he sat, he also saw that despite the blushed ears – which was a sign that she was angry – she was laughing at something her friend was saying. It was short, more like a chuckle, but one sounded genuinely amused, and he wondered what the friend had said to be able to get her to laugh because he knew how nice of a temper his girlfriend possessed and it was almost impossible to amuse her while her ears were still ringing red. 

"Hi," she greeted him with a peck on his cheek when she arrived, heaving a sigh when dropping unceremoniously on the chair next to him. "Sorry to keep you waiting." 

"No, you said you'll be here by eight and it's not eight yet." He automatically reached out as a lock of her hair got away from her ponytail and fell to her face, tucking it to the back of her ear. He turned to her friend who was sitting on the chair right across him, and caught a glimpse of his awkward glance right before he looked away. "How was the movie?" 

It was Friday night, the night he usually met her to grab dinner together after work. But today happened to be the premiere night for a horror film she'd been enthusiastically waiting for, and because he didn't like watching horror movies, she'd asked to go see it with her friend instead and meet him for coffee afterwards since the two of them would go for an early dinner before the movie. 

"It was interesting," the man said. "Couldn't say it fully meets my expectation, but it's still interesting for sure." 

"I beg to differ," she interjected. Something in her tone told him that this had been an ongoing conversation between the two of them for a while by now. "I'm confident enough to say it's a good movie, all in all. No matter what the guy sitting next to you said." 

Her friend laughed, giving him an amused look. "Man, you might want to start to do something about your girl's temper here. She nearly picked up a physical fight with some random dude just because he has a different opinion about the movie. I had to physically restrain her, arms on her back and all." 

He half-laughed, half-grimaced. Ruffled the top of her head. "Yeah, sounds like her for sure." 

"He was so annoying," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "Besides, I only went at him because I knew you'd hold me back like you did a million times before." 

Their back and forth faded away as he let his thoughts wander. Her words couldn't help but spark a familiar pang in his chest. The man sitting in front of him was her close friend since middle school; the friend had been around in her life for much longer than he had, had known her really well before he'd even met her, and he knew perfectly well that there was nothing going on between the two of them, so he really shouldn't be jealous. Right? 

Wrong, apparently. He'd long identified the familiar pang in his chest as jealousy, one he'd been feeling since the early days of their relationship – since he first noticed that she mentioned this one friend a lot, and that was never going to change because they were just that close. Then he quickly learned that his jealousy was not about her being so close with a male friend; maybe at first it was, but as their relationship progressed, he realized that it was more about said friend knowing her way, way better than he did, even sharing the same preferences on movies, music, food – something he couldn't really say for himself. Of course it was only natural because the two of them had been friends for so long by now when he'd only known her for barely a year, but it still didn't make him feel any better. 

Another thing that didn't make him feel better was how said friend was already so close with her parents, who had known him well and trust him enough with their daughter's life. Said friend even went to sports games with her father a couple of times – alone, just the two men without her presence because apparently they "click so well they don't even need me to bridge them anymore", as she once told him in a good-natured complaint. For him, who was still building up the courage to meet her parents, it was borderline intimidating; he wasn't sure how was he supposed to compete with that kind of bond. 

"No, stay for coffee first!" was the next thing he heard her say. He saw that said friend was already on his feet as she tried to keep him from leaving. "I still have things I want to talk over about the movie." 

"We can do it later," her friend said hastily, throwing an apologetic smile his way. "I don't want to interrupt your date." 

But she waved him off. "Nah, we'll be going on another one tomorrow anyway, don't worry about that." She suddenly turned to him, hesitating. "Do you mind him third-wheeling us for the night, cherry?" 

He felt a swell of fondness, mainly because of two things: she still bothered to check whether he was willing to share her tonight, and she called him by her nickname for him – something that could never be trumped by her friend because she didn't use nicknames with him. Of course he couldn't say no after those things. 

It's not like he could ever say no to her anyway. "Of course not." 

She beamed, getting up to her feet. "Now sit back down. I'll order us coffees and some snacks." She left for the register, not bothering to ask what her friend wanted because she already knew. That was just how well they knew each other. 

He couldn't help but find the following silence a bit awkward. He'd met said friend a couple of times before, but they were never left alone, he realized. He genuinely thought said friend was a great guy, but because of the previous thoughts (he refused to use the word jealousy) that had been occupying his mind for the past few minutes, he found himself struggling to open a conversation. 

But said friend helped him out by throwing the first line. "Hey man, can I check something with you while we're alone?" 

It intrigued him. "Sure, go ahead." 

"You really don't mind me spending time with your girlfriend? Please be honest," he added in a more serious tone. "Because if you do mind, I completely understand. Just say the word and will absolutely back off." 

He would be lying if he said he was not tempted; he was just a man, after all. But he knew she would be beyond miserable if her friend "back off" her life for good. She would lose her horror movie buddy, her fandom partner, her chief compadre, and he couldn't possibly do that to her, nor could he fill in all of those roles all by himself. 

So he shook his head. "Nah, don't worry about that. I trust you guys." 

Said friend smiled, but still looked a little apprehensive. "You really sure?" 

"Yeah, of course." 

Only then said friend let out a relieved exhale and leaned back to his seat. "Thanks. Good to know." 

It was his turn to lean forward to the table, closer to him. "But I do have a favor to ask you." 

"Shoot, man." 

He gulped, suddenly feeling nervous. "Look, I know you guys have been friends for so long now and you know each other really really well, which is very understandable, but – I want to know her really really well too. I want to know what ticks and doesn't for her, I want to learn about the music groups you guys like, I want to learn how to make her laugh even after almost throwing punches to some random dude. I want to learn how to get her parents to like and trust me as they do you," he added in a small voice. "I'm trying to pick up some of those by myself, but would really appreciate if you could teach me a thing or two. Could you maybe give me some private lessons?" 

Said friend had a rather indecipherable look throughout his speech, but then his face split into a good-natured grin. "Of course. Though I'm not really sure how the syllabus of the private lessons will look like, I'll try my best to help you learn." 

"Good to know," he smiled. "Thanks." 

"For the record, I think it's a really good move for you to put in some serious effort to know her well," said friend said, somewhat absentmindedly. "It's how she deserves to be treated." 

At that time she arrived at their table and started distributing coffees and pastries and movie talks at the same time, so he only threw a knowing smile to her friend – who winked at him before starting to engage with her loud opinions about the movie. 

: He's a keeper, girl. Spotted more green flags tonight 

: I only left you two alone for a minute and suddenly you're singing high praises for my boyfriend?! how much did he give you?! 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: If I may

The last breath of one of her heels gave in as she entered the café. Frantically reaching for the door's handle to keep her from falling, she couldn't help but think there were worse times for her shoes to betray her – when she was walking alone from the restaurant where her date had ditched her, for example. 

Then again, she thought as she carried her shoes – both with intact and broken heel – and walked barefoot towards the counter, maybe "ditch" was a bit too harsh. He did apologize rather profusely when he left her due to an emergency call from the hospital, a risk she was well aware of now that she'd been going out with the doctor for almost a month now, and promised her another date next week. All in all he was a decent guy, definitely above the average of most of the guys she ever went out with, and she didn't want to ruin the image in her head. Not yet, anyway. 

"What can I get for you?" the girl behind the register asked her with a sympathetic smile. 

"A hot vanilla latte, please. And," she weighed two options for a second, then decided for, "one iced caramel macchiato." 

"Coming right up. You can go sit, I'll bring your drinks to your table." 

"Ah, no need, I can wait – " 

"After spending the evening in those heels, sister, I think your feet will appreciate sitting down as soon as possible." 

She was pleasantly surprised by the kind gesture. "Thanks, you're so sweet." Flashing her a grateful smile, she went to one of the empty tables by the wall. 

Not long after the sweet girl came with the drinks, the familiar figure of her bespectacled best friend came through the door, carrying a familiar Birkenstock on one hand. It took her aback; she did ask him to come meet her here, but she definitely didn't ask for a spare pair of sandals since she had no idea she would break her heels, so how in the hell did he come with one? 

"What?" he deadpanned at her incredulous stare when he arrived at the table. 

"How did you know?" she blurted. 

"Know what?" 

She lifted her heels from under the table. "My heels failed me." 

"Oh." He eyed the heels, looking surprised himself. "I didn't. I just know you would wear one of those high heels to your date and it's definitely killing your feet, so I figured I'll bring you one of my more comfortable footwear." 

"Oh," she echoed his earlier response. "That's so thoughtful." 

He rolled his eyes. "Always sound so surprised. Here." 

He dropped the sandals on the floor near her. She gladly slid her feet in, sighing in relief at the feel of the comfy, flat footbed. Her large feet and his smaller ones made them wear the same shoe size despite their height differences, making it easier for the two of them to swap shoes and sandals as they sometimes did. "Thanks. I got you caramel macchiato. Was torn between that and your other favorite of iced americano, but I figured you wouldn't want a caffeine boost on a weekend night, which – " she eyed his evening attire of sweatpants and a hoodie " – I think is the right decision." 

"You dragged me out of game night," he grumbled as he took the first sip of his drink. "Don't judge me for not wanting to change out of these clothes just to pick you up." 

She grimaced, genuinely feeling bad. "I'm sorry. How many rounds did I rob you of?" 

He shrugged, his features softening like the softie he actually was. "Eh, the boys will survive one night without me. So?" 

"So what?" 

"Aren't you going to tell me how bad was it? Your date?" 

She shrugged, again mimicking his earlier response. "Not so bad. He got called to the hospital, is all." 

He tilted his head, studying her. "But?" 

"But what?" 

"You said it wasn't so bad, yet you're still upset about it." 

"Who says anything about being upset?" 

He nodded to her almost-finished drink on the table. "You only drink hot vanilla latte when you're upset. What?" another deadpan at her incredulous look. "We've been friends for what, almost twenty years now? Do you really think I picked up nothing on your habits all those years?" 

"Fair," she muttered, finishing the remaining of her latte in one go as she let her thoughts wander. Was he really always this thoughtful? 

Yes, she realized. He had always been so thoughtful, had always cared so much about her. Yet it felt so natural it was so easy for her to take his attention for granted. 

"So?" he pressed again, pulling her out of her reverie. "Why the vanilla latte?" 

She pursed her lips and sighed, considering for a moment. "To be honest, I don't really know." 

He continued watching her as he took another sip of his macchiato, letting her try to put her words together. 

"It's just... I guess I feel a little sad about it, you know? Not so much about being left alone, rather about the night being cut short, especially because we rarely see each other as it is." 

He nodded, adjusting his glassess. "And your love language being quality time." 

"Exactly." Now that she'd started confided in him, the rest of the words came to mind with ease. She always found talking to him very easy, no matter how hard it seemed at first. "And what's even more upsetting is... he's decent. He's actually a good guy, but I don't know if I can keep up with all those things that come with dating him, you know. I don't know how long I can be okay with the short dates, with the concise phone calls on unexpected hours. And it just feels sad because it's not even his fault." 

"It's not your fault either," he argued. "You have preferences, one that happens to not align very well with his circumstances. It's nobody's fault." 

"I know," she sighed. "Feels even more awful, doesn't it? I fear we just... won't work." 

He chewed the inside of his cheeks, as he always did whenever he was having a hard think about something. "Do you still want you and him to work?" he finally asked after a few silent moments. 

She gritted her teeth and made a hissing sound. The question was harder than she thought, probably because she hadn't had the courage to ask it herself before. "I mean I should, right? He's sweet and decent, and seems genuinely interested in me. I haven't met one like him in a while now, I really should make it work with him." 

"There's no 'should' anything," he said quietly. "You're not obliged to do anything you think you 'should' do. Let's circle back to my original question: do you want you and him to work?" 

Deep in thought, she reached for her cup, only to realize that it was already empty. He got up, and even before hearing his muttered words she already knew he was going to get her another vanilla latte. He was indeed always so thoughtful with her, she thought absentmindedly. Did she treat him even remotely close to how well he treated her? 

When he came back with a fresh, full cup, she asked him just that. 

He regarded her with a confused look. "What does that mean?" 

She curled her fingers around the steaming cup, seeking warmth. "You're always so good to me – sacrificing game night, the sandals, getting me a refill, and God knows how many other things you did for me all these years. I can't help but wonder if I was ever any good to you." 

"Of course you are," he said, half-laughing. "I wouldn't keep up with your antics for almost twenty years if I don't think you're good for me." 

"But still, you don't have to bother with that much effort to baby me." 

His laugh dimmed into an unexpected serious look. "I never consider it as an effort to baby you, you know? It's not even an effort at all; it's more like... an instinct, by now." 

She gave him a long look. Even as she slowly sipped her second latte, she held his gaze. His words reminded her of something the doctor said to her once; about how getting on the dating game had always been an extra effort for him, because of his line of work. 

"Well?" he said when she put her cup back on the table. 

"Well what?" 

"Do you have your answer now? Whether you want you and the doctor to work or not?" 

She huffed. "Why are you being so persistent about this?" 

She was being annoying by avoiding to answer his question, and expected him to huff back an equally annoying retort. But instead he just cocked one of his thick eyebrows, waiting for her answer. 

So she just let out another huff. "I don't know yet, okay? He promised me another date next week, I'll try to figure it out then." 

Silence fell between them. He watched her took another sip of her latte, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, unconsciously worrying his lower lip – a tell that he was considering something. 

"Spit it out already," she finally said when the silence was getting heavy. 

"What?" 

"I know you have something on your mind, something you're not sure you should say to my face. Whatever it is, I can handle it." 

"Fine." The word came out softer than she thought it would be. "If I may?" 

The words sounded so strange, coming from him; being best friends for so long, she couldn't remember the last time he "if I may" anything to her. "Why are you suddenly acting like you haven't known me for twenty years? Quit the hesitation and shoot already." 

"Don't do it," he blurted, quick, as if he was afraid he would lose the courage if he didn't let the words out quickly enough. 

"Don't do what?" 

He paused for a second, contemplating. "Don't go on another date with him. Go on a date with me instead." 

Unlike his previous ones, this time he wasn't rushing his words; he spoke slowly, clearly, and carefully, all the while holding her gaze intently. She heard the words, but needed some time to properly understand them. Even after she did, all she could manage was just a dumbstruck, "What?" 

He flinched; she couldn't help but wonder how did her face look for him to react like that. "Here goes – no turning back now," he muttered, more to himself. When he continued, his voice was firm, despite the hesitation all over his face. "I don't like seeing you going out with guys who don't understand you, or don't suit your preferences. And I would like to think that I understand you, and am willing to try my best to suit your preferences. I also would really like to try this out with you. So, why not try?" 

They fell into another silence. She sat upright, nearly afraid to so much as to breathe, eyes glued to him. On the contrary, he was leaning to the back of his chair in an easy demeanor, as if he didn't just drop a confession bomb. He was holding her gaze, and his eyes betrayed the nervousness his other body parts managed to conceal perfectly. 

"Since when?" she finally managed to whisper. 

He grimaced. "Hell, I don't even know – weeks, months, maybe even years ago? All of a sudden, it just doesn't feel enough to be here to pick you up, literally and figuratively, after your bad dates; rather, I feel the need to make sure you don't have any more bad dates, ever. No, scratch that: I feel the need to go on dates with you myself, to – to show you how you deserve to be treated myself." The end of his sentence went up, making it sound a bit more like a question, but his voice was unwavering. "So, yeah." 

It was as if time slowed down for her. She couldn't think, but at the same time thoughts after thoughts ambushed her all at once, and every single one of them was of him. Of how he was always there for her and completely understood her beyond words, was always so good to her even after all those years being friends with her. How he was always there with her through thick and thin, still sticking around even after witnessing her in her silliest, stupidest era. 

How he might be just perfect for her. How the answer she'd been looking for might be just in front of her this whole time. 

"I know how much of a shock this must be," his voice cut through all the thoughts floating in her head. "Even for me. Believe me, I didn't plan to say any of this when I came to pick you up here – didn't even know if I'd ever tell you any of this. But now the cat's out of the bag, and I don't want you to feel like you have to say anything to that. So let's just go home, and we can talk about this later – or never, if you prefer to." He bent to retrieve her shoes from under the table, picked up her purse from the chair next to her, then paused to throw her a look filled with uncertainty. She didn't remember ever seeing him look so uncertain before. "Unless you don't want me to take you home anymore?" 

She stood up, noticing the pulse of relief on her feet caused by the comfortable footbed of the sandals. His sandals, which he brought out of concern because he knew perfectly well she could never survive high heels for so long – 

And just like that, she knew what she wanted. She caught him by his wrist. He stopped on his track just before the door, effectively blocking the only way in and out of the café but he didn't seem to care and neither did she. "I won't," she simply said. 

He blinked. "Pardon?" 

"You asked me not to go on another date with the doctor. Then I won't." 

Another blink, then two. "You sure? That's what you really want?" 

"Not completely sure yet," she admitted. "But I'm sure I want to try this out with you." 

A series of rapid blinks, before his face split into an impossibly wide smile. 

"But I might need some time," she added hastily. "I can't say I love you yet – I mean I always do, but currently it's still in a best friend kind of way. I need some time to... recalibrate. If that's okay with you." 

He was beaming. "It's more than I could ask for." 

: Hello, beautiful. Sorry again about tonight 

: We're still on for next week though, right? When are you available? 

: I'm sorry... 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Promises unbroken

The coda of Soon - go ver.

Even before she shouldered the glass door open, she already spotted her husband through the glass wall surrounding the little café. It was the same café where she saw him last time, which was three weeks ago before she had to go overseas to attend multiple back-to-back fashion week events. She suspected this had become one of his favorite place, because she noticed the familiar room as his background multiple times during their video calls session. 

He grinned when she confronted him about that. "This place is growing on me," he said, helping her park her suitcases. "It's pretty close from my office, with great ambiance and great lattes." He pulled her into a tight, long hug, to which she responded with equal enthusiasm. "Hi," he whispered to her hair. 

"Hello, darling." She buried her face on his chest and took a long, deep breath in effort to fill her lungs with the familiar scent of him. Tired and lightheaded from the giddiness of reuniting with her husband, she thought she could fall asleep right then and there. "I miss you." 

"Told you I'll see you soon. I never break my promises." 

She laughed, pulling away from him to pull on his arm so that he sat down next to her. "That you do. How was your day?" 

He told her about it, one arm moving animatedly while he let her clung to the other one. She was never this clingy under normal circumstances, but she always found herself wanting to be as close to him as possible, for as long as she could manage, whenever the two of them got back together after some time apart – which, with her line of work, happened quite often. She rested her head on his shoulder as she told him about her flight, feeling the laughter rumbling inside him as she told the funny conversation she had with the professor sitting next to her. 

"I feel bad for him, though," he said. "Imagine booking a window seat just to spend the entire flight grading papers." 

"It was dark anyway, it's not like he could enjoy any view." 

"Still sad, though. Reminds me of my own business trips." 

She gave the arm she was hugging a pat. "You should really stop hogging the window seat if you're going to stare at your screens the entire time." 

As if on cue, one of said screens – his phone on the table – lit up, followed by an identical chime from her own phone inside her jeans' pocket; both coming from the same calendar notification. She frowned at the reminder. "You still have meetings? I don't recall seeing anything past 9 on your calendar." 

He sighed wearily. "It's last-minute, an extended version of the previous one. Would you mind waiting? It's only half an hour, I promise. Then we'll go home." 

She kissed his jaw – the highest she could reach without too much effort – then retreated to her previous position of clinging to his arm. "As long as you can do it with one hand, because I'm not letting go of this one." 

He chuckled. "Fine, you can keep that one." 

She kept it indeed, using it as a pillow between her cheek and the table. She was still a little jet-lagged and tired from the long flight and time difference, so it was easy for his deep voice to lull her into sleep as he went through his meeting. She let her consciousness slip in and out, but never fully succumbing into slumber because she was a light sleeper and couldn't help but twitch awake whenever his tone sharpen – which happened quite often throughout the meeting. He sounded irritated, she registered, borderline frustrated even. And, beneath all that, tired. Now that she realized how tired he sounded, she wondered why she didn't notice the exhaustion earlier. 

He did keep his promise, though; at just a minute or two before his half an hour was up (which she was secretly counting), he wrapped things up, even though they're not finished yet. "That will be all for tonight," she heard him saying at the end of his summary. "I promised my wife to keep this meeting half an hour max, so we will revisit the rest tomorrow. Thank you." 

He disconnected from the meeting and closed his laptop with a force a little harder than required, not bothering to shut it down properly. He leaned to the back of his chair; she lifted her eyes to him, but his were closed as he let out a long, exhausted breath. "Did you just cut off your meeting for me?" 

He opened his eyes and smiled at her, his previously obvious exhaustion fading just a little. "I never break my promises, remember?" 

"Your team will think you're such a huge sap, you know." 

"Only for you," he grinned. He pulled the arm she was holding, pulling her with it. "Come here." 

She snuggled closer to him, leaning to his side as he circled his arm around her, pressing her close. She felt his chest inflating and deflating as he let out a content sigh once he held her against him. "You need some time off," she muttered. 

"Maybe," he hummed, voice a bit slurred. "Now I need sleep more. Sleep and you." 

"Sap," she chuckled. "Let's go home so you can have both, then." 

"Mm." He rested his head on top of hers, nestling until he found a comfortable position. "But I already have both right here, right now." 

"You want to sleep here?" 

"Fifteen minutes." From his voice, she knew he was slipping away already. "Need power nap. G'me fifteen, then home. Promise." 

Because she was also tired, she nodded and closed her eyes too. "Fifteen, then home." 

He never broke his promises, but just now for the first time ever he did, because they ended up sleeping for almost half an hour. Despite the rather uncomfortable sitting position, it was the best sleep she'd had in three weeks, because he was right there with her. 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Soon - go ver.

Different people, different circumstances, same word; read Soon - come ver.

He looked up when he heard the small windchime clinking, and closed his laptop when he saw her coming through the glass doors. She looked windswept, both hands occupied with one suitcase each she could only shake her head to keep her dark curls from flying all over her face, but still lit up nonetheless as she spotted him – nearly missed muttering an apology when one of her suitcases bumped into someone's chair. "Hi," she said breathlessly as she parked her suitcases between the chairs across him, then parked herself on the chair next to him. "Been here long?" 

"Yes, took a meeting here." He reached out a hand to push back her stray curls, doing the best he could to put them back in place. "Did you run here or something?" 

"The cab got stuck on traffic so I walked the last hundred meters," she huffed. Let out a long exhale as she leaned to the back of her chair, closed her eyes as she let him tame her unruly curls – or at least try to. "Don't want to miss any second with you." 

Knowing well she couldn't see him, he let a sad smile fall on his lips. "Sorry I couldn't go pick you up and take you to the airport." 

She tilted her head, leaning to his touch for a moment. "Darling, I have your calendar saved on my account. I know how many hundreds of meetings you have in a day – I could barely squeeze myself in for only half an hour." 

"Refreshing, isn't it? Usually I am the one squeezing myself in." 

"Hey!" She laughed, and it was her unfiltered one: head fully tipped back, eyes fully closed, mouth fully agape. One she never shared on her socials, since her socials were reserved for the chic pieces she designed, worn by celebs. She only had one post of her on her Instagram anyway, and it was her wedding pictures – their wedding pictures, he corrected himself. Took him some time to adjust because it still sounded unreal to him, that he was now her husband and she was now his wife. "Keep your dirty thoughts for the bedroom, please." 

"Our bedroom," he corrected her just because he could. "Which will be cold and empty for the next three weeks because you're not there. Here, let me – " He maneuvered her chair so its back was turned on him, allowing him free reign of her hair. 

She hummed as he combed his fingers between her curls and began taming them into his signature loose braid – the only braid he knew how to do, but one she seemed to like so much despite being amateur and messy. "Getting wilder by the day, isn't it? My hair?" 

"Yeah, but I'll miss it nonetheless." 

"Oh, darling." She let out an audible sigh, and he saw her shoulders slump a little. "Sorry I have to go so soon after our wedding." 

He tugged playfully at her hair. "In case you forgot, I also have your calendar saved on my account. I know how many things you need to attend during these fashion weeks." 

"Not even a week after the reception is too soon," she fussed. "I should've cancelled these weeks and run away on our honeymoon instead." 

"You know you're booked for these even before we decided on our wedding date." 

They fell into their comfortable silence. It still fascinated him, he thought, how easy and... comfortable these occasional silences were for them, despite the both of them being equally talkative and outspoken. But then again, being with her in general was always so easy and comfortable. He didn’t have to think about anything, his usually very busy mind slowing down to an almost static state whenever he was with her, and it was so nice to not have to think every once in a while.

"Do you think we can make it?" 

Her quiet question brought him out of his reverie and back to the café. "Make what?" 

Feeling him smoothed down her finished braid in one last pat, she turned her chair back to its original position so she could face him. "This," she gestured between them. He noticed her left thumb was unconsciously holding the wedding band on her ring finger. "Us. Our marriage." 

"Hey." He caught both of her hands, slipped his fingers between hers. "Where is this coming from?" 

She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Between your executive duties and my wild schedules, I have some concerns." 

"Concerns," he echoed, mind revving up back to racing. He didn't like the sound of it; he didn't like seeing her concerned. "What about second thoughts? Of me, of this?" His finger brushed her wedding band. 

"None," she said sharply, almost before he finished his question. "No, never. These past few days as your wife have been my happiest – hell, every moment with you has been my happiest. So no second thoughts about that, and there will never be." 

He smiled, slow, as the heavy tug in his heart started to unravel – he didn't realize he was that nervous waiting for her answer. "Then it's good enough for me. Whatever concerns you have, as long as you don't have any second thoughts about me, we can fight them. Together." 

At the time, both of their phones on the table lit up with the same two calendar notifications: one for his next meeting, and one for her blocked time to go to the airport. Both starting in ten minutes. 

She let out a long, shuddering breath. Closed her eyes and leaned her forehead to his. "Our half an hour is almost up. So soon." 

He pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. "I'll take the next meeting here. You, on the other hand, need to go soon to catch your flight." 

Yet neither of them seemed to be willing to break away first. A few days as husband and wife felt too short; half an hour before they had to part for another three weeks felt too soon. 

But they would manage, he thought. They always did. 

So he pulled away first, both to spare her from the dreadful task and because he believed in them. "Go. I'll see you soon," he promised.

Unlike the previous ones that sounded sad and full of longing, this "soon" was full of promises. Funny, how one word can have both sweet and bitter meaning. 

He expected her to pout and whine, telling him it was not soon enough. But instead she smiled – her dragged, sweet one, one reserved just for him and he loved so much. "Soon," she agreed.

: saw the Instagram post of your hair 

: Do you like it??? 

: of course, but I thought your socials are for showing off your work? 

: But I'd like to show off my husband's work too sometimes! 

[corrretan]

Trains are a keystone species and removing them from our cities has caused an incomprehensible cascading effect on them

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Cappuccino, hot

She was never much of a planner. She liked to plan things, to some extent, but she never felt the need to draw out every single thing down to the tiniest of details. She only needed the gist of a plan according to a particular objective, then she could happily improvise from there, as long as the objective of said day was well achieved. She liked the fact that she got the best out of the two traits; the anchorage from having a plan, the freedom of being impromptu. 

Her objective today was to get the air conditioner of her car fixed, and after a couple hours of hanging out at the service center she finally concluded the task. It was a rather warm and lovely Saturday evening, and going straight back to her flat sounded a lot like she was wasting the remaining hour of sunlight. It's not like she had things to do at home anyway – or someone waiting for her, she thought dryly, so she decided to wander by herself. 

As she slowed down her car for the upcoming traffic, she weighed her options. Her mind started to list the craziest things she was definitely not prepared for; swimming, running, bungee-jumping – 

Less extremes, she thought firmly, and started over. Go see a movie – that actually sounded nice. She picked her phone up from the empty front seat to check out the movies currently playing, when her eyes found the coffee shop just a couple hundred meters up front. Something from the exterior of the little cafe drew her in; while she was not much of a coffee drinker herself because she always preferred tea among the caffeinated beverages, sitting at one of the tables while enjoying the lasts of sunlight through the window did sound nice. Besides, they must serve other things other than coffee. So as the traffic inched forward, she happily improvised and pulled over to the café's parking lot. 

The sound of a small windchime hung above the door welcomed her in. As expected from a Saturday evening, the surprisingly spacious café was quite packed, but there were still a couple empty tables left, and aligned with her newly-found objective of enjoying the lasts of sunlight, there were still two empty tables by the window. Silently praying they stayed empty until she finished ordering, she crossed the room and glided to the register. 

"Good evening," the young man manning the register – his name tag read Albus – greeted her with a bright smile. 

She smiled back. "Good evening, Albus... Dumbledore? Like the headmaster?" 

He grinned. "Unfortunately, no, so just Albus please. To not ruin the fantasy." 

"Alright then, Just Albus." 

His grin evolved into a short laugh. "What can I get for you?" 

She started flipping the pages of the menu book in front of her. She liked this, having an actual, physical menu with actual, physical pages she could flip rather than having to scan a QR code to access some PDF. "Could you give me a moment?" 

"Sure, but if I may?" 

She looked up from the menu. Just Albus was looking at her, still with the same bright smile. "Sure, go ahead." 

He tilted his head a little, considering, smile unwavering. "Cappuccino, hot?" he deduced. 

She laughed, genuinely amused. "What makes you think I'm a cappuccino person?" 

"You look like a coffee lady, but maybe none too strong." 

Even though he was technically wrong because she wasn't even a coffee person to begin with, her impulsive side decided that she wouldn't mind a cappuccino this evening. "Alright. Hot cappuccino it is, then." 

He beamed, looking slightly proud of himself. "Coming right up." 

As he scurried to prepare her order, another voice came from her left. "For the record, you look like a tea lady for me." 

She turned and saw a man sitting on one of the bar stools lining the counter, close enough for him to hear the entire conversation of her with Just Albus rather easily. "Oh?" she offered, intrigued. "What gives?" 

He shrugged a shoulder – broad, she couldn't help but notice, even through the hoodie he was wearing. "Just a hunch. Black, no milk, with sugar but not too much?" 

She was both impressed and intrigued enough that when Just Albus was finished with her order, she decided to abandon the still-empty two tables by the window – despite her previous objective to enjoy the lasts of the rays – and go sit with the man by the counter because he somehow had guessed how she took her tea down to a T. 

One look at the man sitting next to her behind the steering wheel told her that he was excited for the rendezvous, too. And if it hadn't, his next words would've given him away. "I actually have been looking forward to meeting him the entire week." 

She was never much of a planner and preferred to be able to improvise when she could, but this time she didn't really have the room to improvise because she needed everything to be perfectly executed. The insanely detailed preparation was grueling and she was worn out by the time they were done with one particularly packed Saturday. The only good thing keeping her from passing out right then and there in the car was the rendezvous she had scheduled that evening with an old friend. 

She let out a chuckle. "Exciting, isn't it? We owe him a lot and he didn't even realize." 

"That's why we're meeting him now. He needs to know the consequences of his actions." 

Her chuckle evolved into a laugh, short but genuinely amused. "You call all of it consequences, now?" 

He shrugged a shoulder – broad, she couldn't help but faintly think, even now after she knew exactly how said shoulder looked and felt beneath the pristine shirt he was wearing. "Eh, one I'm extremely happy with." 

She thought she might feel just that, extremely happy, when she saw Just Albus, now a marketing associate in a prestigious company, walked through the door of the café once he worked at. She thought she might feel extremely happy when Just Albus still remembered her as the "cappuccino, hot lady" he once crossed paths with many years ago, despite never meeting her again after that fateful encounter. But then, as she pushed an invitation – a physical one that could actually be opened rather than some QR to scan – across the table to him, there was no doubt that she was. Extremely happy, that was. 

Just Albus widened his eyes in disbelief. "Is that what I think it is?" 

The man with the broad shoulders who was sitting next to her laughed. "Yes. We're getting married." 

"And it wouldn't have happened if it isn't for your cappuccino, hot guess," she added. 

Just Albus' eyes widened even more as she proceed to explain how his nonchalant guess of her beverage led to the man with the broad shoulders, now her soon to be husband, taking his own guess at her beverage preferences – which happened to be exactly right somehow. How that led to her sitting with him despite not knowing him at all, which led to a long, pleasant conversation while getting to know him, which led to her thinking she might have fallen in love with him by the time they got into their second beverages. 

Just Albus shook his head, astonished. "Not gonna lie, I was super confused when you reached out last week and have been wondering why, but I would've never guessed the reason to be this." 

Her soon to be husband chuckled. "Sounds crazy, right? We don't know how to thank you enough, man." 

Just Albus turned his gaze to her. "I do have one question, though." 

She smiled. "Sure, go ahead." 

"Was I even remotely correct with the hot cappuccino guess?" 

Her smile erupted into a laugh. "No, but I couldn't be more grateful for that." 

: I do still have one question for you, man 

: shoot 

: How does your bride to be actually take her coffee? 

: she doesn't. she's a tea person :D 

: Damn! 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Live in the now

As she pushed the door open and stepped into the sun-lit, spacious room of the café, she heard her husband taking a deep breath right behind her, inhaling the heavenly smell of coffee and bakery. "God, I missed this," he muttered. 

She took a second to look back and flash him a grin. "As if you don't drink fancy-ass coffee from the fancy-ass machine at your fancy-ass office every single day." 

"Nothing beats this," he gestured at his surroundings. "Stopping by an actual shop to actually enjoy the coffee, rather than just gulping the liquid down as a means to survive." 

"We can go for this kind of trip every once in a while on the weekends, so you don't become a depraved man. Hello," she smiled at the young lady at the register, who was smiling back at her equally brightly. "Could you whip us up two of your frappe specialties, please?" 

"But – " 

"No," she said rather firmly, cutting off her husband's whine. "You said you want to enjoy, so no black and bitter coffee today. That's just a means to survive, and you're not on survival mode today." 

She still let him pick the pastry, though. That was enough to at least stop him from sulking, and by the time they wandered off to a table by the window with their orders, he was already back to his bubbly self. 

He hummed in content as he took his first sip, leaning to the back of his chair. "That's not bad." 

She clacked her tongue, though not unkindly. "You have got to stop questioning my decisions, my darling. Especially when it comes to your happiness." 

That – her exceptional knowledge of his happiness – was also what made her force her husband to take an entire week off. He'd been drowning in his work for the past few months, and she'd noticed that he'd becoming increasingly unhappy and stressed. No drastic change in his behavior, just subtle hints here and there, but she knew him better than he knew himself, so the signs were all but screaming at her to do something about it. She considered a holiday trip for their little family, but being the ever perfectionist planner that he was, she knew a trip, while sounded nice and very well-deserved, would add more stress and to-dos to his list. So she decided that the best thing for him was actually to shut his brain off and focus on the mundane day-to-day things he usually never got to enjoy: making breakfast, dropping off and picking up their daughter from school, grocery shopping, dinner preparation, and of course an impromptu trip to the coffee shop. They were on day two of his leave, and so far he'd been following along with no complaints and lots of hum of content. 

"Alright, you're right," he lifted both of his hands in defeat. "I guess Mom really knows what's best for me." 

She threw him a cocky smirk. He never called her Mom when they're alone before – in front of their daughter, sure, but never when it was just the two of them, and she found that she actually quite liked it. "That I do." 

He took another long sip of his drink and looked out the window. His seat was graced by the morning sunlight, but he didn't seem to mind; rather, he closed his eyes and seemed to be basking happily in the warm rays. It was something he hardly got the chance to enjoy, she thought, the simple sunlight; he was always too busy battling through the rush hour to get to the office in the morning, and almost always came home only when there was no sunlight left. Once again she found herself being grateful for succeeding in strong-arming him to take this long overdue week off. 

"You're staring," he called her out without opening his eyes. 

"I am," she admitted, unabashed. 

His lips curled into a smile. "Enjoying the view, I hope?" 

"Of course. That smile barely paid a visit last week. And the week before." 

His eyes fluttered open, smile faltering off his pretty face. He straightened up on his chair and looked at her squarely. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to abandon you. Or the princess." 

She waved him off before he got the chance to feel even more guilty. "Don't worry about it. We understand. You're doing your best to bring warm food to the table." 

The corner of his mouth turned in a frown. "Sometimes I wonder if all of it is worth it." 

"What do you mean?" 

"The job. We know it pays handsomely, but at what cost? I don't get to see you and the princess as often as I want to. I barely have time for you, and when I do have the time, I don't have the energy to treat you properly. I feel like I'm doing a bad job at this, being a husband and a father, even though that is way more important than my job at the office." 

The word vomit surprised her. Knowing him, she knew he must had kept those things for a while now, and they'd been bothering him for a while too. "Hey." She took one of his hands, squeezed them between both of hers. "Don't do this to yourself. You’re a wonderful husband, and that is coming from me, your wife, who is the only person with the right to judge you as a husband, so it's legit. As for your performance as a father, we should ask our princess about that, but coming from her mother I think you're being a wonderful dad for her, too." 

"Now you're just flattering me." 

"I'm not. You know me, I don't do white lies. And I will definitely call you out if I think you're being a bad husband or father." 

That brought back the smile to his lips – a small one, but enough to replace the frown. "I'll hold on to that." He curled his hand against hers, intertwining their fingers. "Thank you for making me take the week off. It really helps bring me back to earth, to my family – the reason why I'm doing all the work in the first place." 

His smile was always infectious, and she found herself smiling in no time. In front of her, she saw the man who was her husband and the father of their daughter, but she also saw the nervous young man who had asked her father for permission to marry her, and the nervous boy who had asked her out on their first date. It fascinated her, how much he – no, both of them – had grown over the many years they navigated together. 

Her fluffy thoughts was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing. With a sigh, she rummaged through her purse to find the screaming device. Raised an eyebrow at the name of the caller. "It's your assistant." 

He groaned in frustration. "Leave him be. I've prepared him enough to survive without me for a week." 

"But what if it's important? I mean, should be important enough for him to call me after failing to reach you, no?" 

He closed his eyes, as if praying for patience. "Leave him for now. If he calls again, you can pick up. But if he doesn't, don't bother." 

She shrugged. "If you're sure." 

"I am. I'm not going to switch my work notification back on in the middle of my leave." 

They watched the phone rang until it stopped, then waited for a minute. She couldn't help but feel a little relieved when the second call never came. 

So did he, apparently, because he beamed at her. "Now you can shove the thing back to your bag and forget he ever called." 

She laughed and did as he said. Her fingers brushed something that felt a bit foreign in her purse. She pulled it out – and chuckled at the pale green envelope in her hand. "Hey, I was going to tell you about this but then I forgot. The princess showed this to me." 

"What is it?" He took the envelope she was holding out to him, took out the paper inside, and began to read. As he went farther to the bottom of the paper, his eyes became wider and wider. "What is this?" 

"It's from a project at school," she said, still chuckling. "They were asked to write a letter to one of their classmates, and apparently this cute little boy has the cutest crush for our princess." 

"Crush? Honey, he's confessing his undying love for our princess!" 

"Undying love?" she fell into a laughing fit. "Where did that come from?" 

"It literally says here – 'I love you with all my heart, until the day we have to part' – " 

He looked so horrified it made her laugh even more. "Darling, he's six! It doesn't mean anything – although, I have to admit, he has some seriously good rhyming game there. Wonder where he gets it from." 

He didn't seem to listen. "Who is this boy? Can we meet him later today when we pick up the princess? He needs to pass my vibe check first." 

She shook her head, still amused. "No one's taking away our princess, darling. Not yet, anyway. You can calm down for now." 

He huffed, but took a sip of his frappe to calm himself down anyway. "Man, this is hard. Just the thought of some boy loving our sweet princess... I don't think I'll be able to handle it when it's time for me to walk her down the aisle." 

"Hey, slow down, Romeo, no one's marrying anyone soon. You still have about twenty more years to baby her around." 

A slow, sad smile began forming on his lips. "Nah, I don't think so. Maybe not even ten years until she starts protesting and telling me to stop baby her. She'll grow up so fast I won't be able to catch up." 

She covered his hand on the table with hers. "That's a worry for later, alright? We live in the now, and you still have the chance to baby her on her piano lesson this afternoon, so don't freak out just yet." 

"That sounds nice," he muttered. "This is nice, actually. All of this. Fussing over the princess, fussing over cooking meals. Can I just never go back to work and live like this every day?" 

"Now, now," she hummed, "we do still need warm food on the table, so afraid that's not possible." 

: hello, is this Bryan's mom?  : Yes, who am I speaking with?  : this is Cassidy's father. one of Bryan's classmates  : may I talk to your son about a couple of things?  : Sorry, what's this about? Did Bryan do something to Cassidy?  : hi Bryan's mom, this is Cass's mother. I am so sorry about the texts my husband sent earlier  : it's nothing, don't you worry about it! 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Exclusive content

From the very first second she arrived at the table, he was narrowing his eyes at her. "What?" 

He offered no answer, his narrowed eyes following her every movement as she put down her iced latte on the table, her bag on the chair next to her, and then lowered herself to sit. She couldn't help but starting to feel nervous when he still didn't say a word even after she took a couple long sips of her beverage. "What?" 

Eyes still narrowed and never leaving her, he leaned back and reached for his briefcase. She watched as he carefully took out an item she couldn't quite decipher at first. He put it on the table, and only when he pushed it across the table towards her did she realize what exactly the exhibit was: a magazine, one she recognized instantly because it was the one featuring her as the cover. She blinked, still confused. "They gave me a copy already, you can keep that one." 

"Oh, I'm keeping it alright." 

His tone was still odd, but she couldn't really pinpoint what exactly was odd from it. "What is it? Do you not like it?" 

He jabbed his index finger on the cover. "You said it was a business photoshoot!" 

She flinched at his sudden accusation, more surprised than anything. "It was! It's a business magazine and a business interview." 

"Then how do you explain that?" 

"Explain what?" 

For the first time since she walked into the café, his composed front faltered, betrayed by a blush creeping up his neck all the way to his cheek. It was a faint one, but many years of training and studying him made it impossible for her to miss. "The sexy look," he rushed in a low voice. 

She gasped, scandalized. "I do not look sexy!" 

He lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. "My lady, why precisely do you think you were asked to wear a shirt a size smaller than your usual, and leave those buttons open?" 

"I do not – " She yanked the magazine out of his accusing finger, bringing it to her own eyes. When her assistant gave her the copy that was sent to her office, she didn't pay it much attention; one quick glance to check which picture did they end up using, then she just shoved it to the bottom of her table's drawer. It was just another PR, she thought, and PR was never on the top of her priorities. But now, as she took a long, proper, very thorough look at herself sitting with legs crossed on the glossy, expensive paper, she couldn't help but realize that her husband might have a point. "I didn't realize it was a size smaller than my usual size." 

He let out a good-natured scoff. "Even with the blazer, there's no way anyone with seeing eyes could mistake those curves. Also, three buttons open was just too much. And it doesn't have to be a freaking shiny silk shirt too – why not use just a regular shirt every normal people wear to normal job? Did they mistake your company as an escort business or something?" 

She swatted his arm that was still extended halfway across the table. "Words, man!" Putting down the magazine back to the table, cover facing downwards, she pushed it back to her husband. "Thanks a lot. Now I definitely cannot see those pictures without thinking that I'm running an escort business." 

It earned her a blurted laugh – the short, unplanned one she really loved. He took the magazine back from her hand and started scrutinizing it, his face features softening the longer his eyes linger. "For what it's worth, you're still stunning even with the escort business attire. It's like you're delivering a message." 

"About what, escort businesses?" 

"That the founder of a rising-star tech company doesn't always look like a nerd; they can be gorgeous too." 

This time it was her turn to laugh. "So you actually like it?" 

"It's fine," he admitted. "But I like the exclusive content way better." 

"Exclusive content?" 

"You know, the pictures of you that only I get to see, without having to share with the rest of the world." 

This time she could feel the blush creeping up her own neck. He really loved taking lots of pictures of her. She knew he had a special folder dedicated for her in his phone's gallery; one or two he sometimes posted on his socials when he felt like bragging, but most of them – and there were as many as thousands – were tucked away in the folder, safe from prying eyes. 

"Do you know what I like the most about this?" 

His voice pulled her out of her reverie. He was still looking at the magazine cover. "What?" 

He turned the cover to her and pointed at her left hand. It was resting oh-so-casually on her lap, just above her knee, but it also showcased both the wedding and the engagement band she wore on her ring finger. She specifically asked for it, she recalled, for her left hand to be up front for the very purpose of showing off her ring finger. "This. A testament that no matter how down bad the whole world is for you, no one can truly have you. No one but me." 

She rolled her eyes, though couldn't help the smile. "Possessive much?" 

"You would too if you have a spouse who's just that amazing." 

"Nah." She took his left hand and pressed a kiss to the wedding band on his ring finger, one that was the perfect match of her own. "Mine is better." 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Close proximity

He felt the rush of cold air washed over his legs as he shouldered open the door to the café, and regretted not changing back into his warm office attire. 

It was Friday night and he had a tennis session with his friends like he always did every other Friday night. He already traded the aforementioned office attire for a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, was stepping out of his office building when he saw his phone lighting up with a call from his wife, and instantly knew something was off the moment he heard her shaking voice over the phone. 

"Could you come?" 

Of course he would. He was speeding his way to the café his wife mentioned in no time, leaving only a voice message for one of his tennis friend to tell them he couldn't make it tonight. And now here he was, shivering from the chilly air blasting off the café's air conditioner – but then didn't even notice the cold anymore the moment he spotted his wife on the farthest table, hidden from almost every other inhabitant of the café, looking pale and troubled as he had suspected and feared from her voice earlier. 

She looked up as he approached the table. One quick once-over and her eyes widened in realization. "Shit – it's your tennis night, I forgot – " 

He waved her off quickly. "The guys can survive one night without me." He dropped himself onto the chair across her, knowing her seating preferences really well. "What is it? Are you okay?" 

Her fingers curled around the coffee cup she was holding with both hands, chasing its fading warmth. To peel her fingers off the cup and have them around his own instead was impossibly tempting, but he managed to hold himself back. He waited nervously as she tried to find her words, mentally preparing himself for the worst – because by the look of it, the look of her, it had to be really bad. 

"It's a bad day," she started. "Couldn't seem to get anything right at work. But then something even worse happened." 

He stilled as if his blood stopped running through his veins too. Various horrible scenarios started running through his mind. But he didn't push her and let her took another pause. 

"I don't think I can talk about it yet, not now. But – " Her eyes flickered into his, and he swore his insides fell at the broken look on those impossibly brown eyes. "I want to – if you don't mind, could you just... hold me? For now?" 

If he thought it was hard to not take her hands off the coffee cup and hold them himself earlier, now it was almost impossible to keep himself from pulling her into his arms right then and there, possibly to never let go again. But then he heard a voice, one sounded suspiciously similar to her therapist, coming from the back of his head: Baby steps. "Of course." 

Physical touch was something they're still working on because of one fateful night. He could still remember it clear as day, as if it just happened yesterday instead of many years ago, mostly because it had been a recurring subject of his own nightmares ever since. They were fresh out of college, getting into year two of dating and the second month of living together, when on that one fateful, horrible night she came home shaking uncontrollably and bleeding between her legs. His first instinct was to come to her and pull her into his arms, but she'd pushed him away with a force too strong for her current state, looking at him with raw terror and agony. 

It's getting better over time. It was not a quick progress, and was definitely not an easy one, but they'd been practicing and she'd been getting significantly better. They could go as far as holding hands in public every once in a while now, although he knew she still tensed up when his hand accidentally brush her when they were alone at home. Which was probably why she asked to meet here, in public, instead of going home; being surrounded by many other people always made it easier for her. 

He took a deep breath, going over every tips her therapist had given him as he moved slowly to the seat next to her, careful not to be too close to her. Baby steps, and nothing too sudden. Always let her know what you're doing. "I'm going to start with taking your hand. Is that okay?" At her nod of approval, he began reaching out, before pausing again midway. "Tell me when it gets too uncomfortable, alright? Say the word anytime and I'll stop." 

"Alright," she whispered. 

"Alright. Taking your hand now." His hands hovered just above hers for a few seconds before closing in, very slowly peeling her fingers off the cup one by one. Despite the cup still being warm from the coffee, her fingers were ice cold. "I'll put my fingers between yours and close them, alright?" 

"Alright." 

Careful, slow. Waited a few more moments before going to the next. "Can I come closer to you?" 

"Go ahead." 

He scooted his chair closer to hers, cautiously started leaning in. He could smell the faint trace of her perfume as he got even closer. "Is this okay?" 

He felt rather than heard her took a shuddering breath. "Yeah, it's fine." 

They're only inches away now, the closest they'd been since their last practice last month. He tilted his head to meet her eyes. "I'll let go of your hands and put my arms around you now. Is that alright?" 

She pursed her lips together, but didn't tear her eyes away from his. A good sign, he reminded himself, because she would never maintain eye contact if she felt uncomfortable. "Yes. Just – go slow." 

"I will." He went exactly that, releasing his hold on her hands finger by finger, arms inching forward ever so slowly. As he did, he couldn't help but think of how she used to love hugs before. She loved hugging the people she loved, but hugging him – and a hug from him – were always her favorite. It pained him to see how much she struggled for a simple hug now, but it was a pain he had to keep for himself because he didn't want her to feel bad as she often did. 

After a while he had both of his arms around her shoulders, but still without touching her. "Are you alright?" 

"Alright." They were so close now, her voice only inches away from his ears. 

"Can I hold you now?" 

Her answer came quicker than he'd expected. "Yes, please." 

He took his time, moving very carefully, and couldn't help a relieved sigh when he finally had her wrapped within his arms. He felt her sigh too – a shaky one, but sounded more tired than uncomfortable. Very slowly, he felt her leaning herself to him, burying her face on his shoulder, and it was the closest they'd been in years. 

When he felt her began crying on his shoulder, he got greedy. "Can I kiss your hair?" he whispered, decided he wouldn't push further if she hadn't heard, but was surprised when he felt her nod. He feared he might end up crying too; it's been too long, and he would be lying if he said he didn't miss holding her tight to him, didn't miss peppering her with kisses. 

Just one for now, he reminded himself, and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. He felt her stiffen in his arms and internally panicked; did he push too far? Did he ruin this? He loosened his already-relaxed hold, letting her know that she could pull away anytime – 

But still felt the pain when she did break away from his arms. He felt his whole being crumbled as he watched her retreating back to her chair – but not pushing it farther away, to his relief – and started sobbing quietly to her hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." 

It was the most helpless he'd ever felt, watching her cry without being able to do anything. He curled his hands into fists to prevent them from betraying him as he murmured as close to her ears as he could without touching her. "You're doing great. It's okay, it's going to be okay, you can let it all out. I'm right here, you don't have to worry about anything." 

But soon enough he could no longer stand not doing anything, so he decided to call one of her best friends to come and comfort her since she was way more comfortable with female touch. As said friend come hurriedly, he stepped away to give her the seat next to her. Once she noticed her friend's presence, she melted into her arms with much more ease than before, and continued crying her eyes out in the comfort of her friend's arms. He watched the two figures from across the table, a million thoughts running around his head but none he wanted to focus on, the only thing in his mind being how he wished he could wrap his wife inside a bubble and keep her safe there for eternity. For now, he had to settle for being in close proximity without being too close to her. 

Eventually her sobs receded, but only because she'd fallen asleep in her friend's arms. Despite everything, she looked rather peaceful in her sleep, not minding the arms holding her at all. "Could you – " He cleared his throat as he realized the tremble in his voice. It didn't help that her friend turned to him with a sad look in her eyes. "Do you mind if she stays with you tonight? She could use some comfort, and I can't exactly provide that for her." 

"Of course, I'll take her home with me." She called out his name as he made to leave, looking like she was on the verge of tears as well. "Please be strong." 

He smiled. "I will." 

: Thank you, for everything... I honestly could never thank you enough 

: And I'm sorry too, for everything. 

: you did absolutely nothing wrong 

: take as much time as you need, yeah? I'll come pick you up when you're ready. anytime, just call 

: I'm always here for you 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Maybe in another life

He spotted the two figures occupying the table by the window right away. As he made his way forward, he saw that his roommate was slumped half-leaning on his fiancée – whose focus was entirely on her laptop, nose adorably scrunched in concentration. 

She looked up and smiled when he arrived at their table, making his heart jump in its usual gymnastics whenever she smiled at him. She shut her laptop closed. "Hello. Long drive here?" 

"Not at all, came from a meeting that was conveniently close," he said as he sat down right across her, only because the other chair that was across his roommate was occupied with their belongings. He nodded at the man deep in slumber, still dressed in his scrub. "Is he okay?" 

"Out cold in an instant." She grimaced apologetically. "My bad, though. Strong-armed him into watching a movie here, which of course bored the hell out of him." 

"That's okay. He needs the sleep." 

With a sigh, her hand reach out to her fiancee's hair, absentmindedly giving it an affectionate ruffle. "Yeah. Between the residency and the wedding preparations, he really does." She turned to him, and he couldn't help but realize that she had makeup on – not that she usually didn't, only this time it seemed more... excessive and professional. She must had caught his odd stare because she said, "Pardon the face, had an appointment with the makeup artist earlier." 

"Looks good on you," he said genuinely. He meant it with his whole heart. 

Her smile cracked slow and – careful? "Thanks. The man mentioned something about returning your portable charger?" 

He suddenly remembered why he came here crashing the lovebirds' hard-earned quality time in the first place. "Yes, he said to come get it here." 

"Should be in his bag right there," she nodded to the chair next to him. "Help yourself out." 

He did, spending a few minutes rummaging through his roommate's backpack to find said charger. Among his resident essentials, he found one curious bottle of inhaler. He was just about to ask the fiancée about it because throughout tens of years of their friendship he didn't have any memory of his roommate ever needing an inhaler, before the answer struck him all of a sudden in the form of a flash memory. 

"It's about time you tell me if you're at risk of having an asthma attack, you know." 

"Huh? What do you mean?" 

He held out the inhaler he found in the kitchen counter towards his roommate. "What's this?" 

His roommate let out a chuckle. "That's not mine, it's the girlfriend's. She has asthma, so I'd like to be prepared in case something bad happened when she comes over." 

So his roommate kept one in his bag too, he idly thought. How thoughtful. 

He would probably do the same himself. 

"Did you find it?" 

He nearly jumped at her question, quickly shoving back the inhaler to its designated compartment on the inside of the bag. "Yeah, it's here. Thanks." 

She smiled at him, though it had the same odd, faint sense of carefulness from earlier. "Where are you going after this?" 

"Home, I think. It's been a day." 

"Do you mind if we talk for a bit before you leave? I want to ask you something." 

His interest picked, he leaned to the back of his chair, settling in. "Sure. Go ahead." 

She tried to shift before seemingly remembered that she was supporting nearly the entire weight of her sleeping fiancee, so she forced herself to stay still and worried her lower lip instead. A clear sign of nervousness, which was something he never saw on her before because she always seemed so laid back and confident. 

"Take your time," he encouraged as she seemed to be struggling to get her words out. 

"Alright. I'm just gonna be blunt here, so I apologize in advance." 

He bit back a smile. "Sounds super serious." 

A short pause, before she let out a rushed: "Do-you-by-any-chance-perhaps-ever-have-some-sort-of-feelings-for-me?" 

Took some effort but he managed to get the entire sentence, and it wiped the amusement entirely off his face. He felt rather than saw himself whiten in shock. After what felt like an eternity, he finally croaked, "Where did that come from?" 

She threw a quick glance at her fiancee. "Him, actually. He noticed that you're becoming a little awkward around me, and suspected that you might... feel something?" The sentence went up towards the end, making it sound more like a question rather than a statement. She grimaced. "Sorry, that didn't sound right at all." 

"No," he said quickly. He pondered his options for a second, but knew he wouldn't have opted for anything but the truth because truthfully, despite everything, he really wanted to get it off his chest. "I mean no, you're not far off." 

That took her aback, her eyes widening until he could see the whites around her irises. "Holy – hold up, let's circle back. You're saying – you're saying you do have feelings for me?" 

No turning back now. "Yeah, I guess. Sort of. Just realized it not that long ago." 

He still remembered it clearly; they were alone in the apartment he shared with his roommate, she was waiting for her fiancée to come home, and he decided to make dinner for her because she said she hadn't eaten anything since morning. As he finished setting up the table, he found her beaming at him, and that was the exact moment he realized. That this odd warm feeling he had whenever he saw her, the gymnastic flip his heart made whenever she smiled at him, they were not normal behavior towards his best friend's fiancée. It drove him out of his mind to the extent that got him physically sick later that night because he just could not possibly catch any sort of feelings for his best friend's fiancée, but he did anyway. 

"And I thought he was crazy for suspecting such thing," she muttered to herself, looking more stunned than anything. "I won't even realize anything if he didn't point them out to me." 

He chuckled. "Of course he picks up the signs. We've been friends for so long now, he knows me inside out." 

She threw him a look, long and considering. Strangely enough, the scrutiny didn't make him nervous; if anything, now that the cat was out of the bag, he was eager to answer all the questions he could almost hear running around inside her head. "Were you ever going to tell him?" she finally asked. 

"I was torn," he admitted. "I want to tell him for so many reasons. One of the biggest is that we've been friends for so long, even the thought of hiding something this huge from him makes me uneasy. Also, I feel like I've wronged him horribly and just want to beg for his forgiveness. But then there's this little voice telling me that he might end up not forgiving me and won't want to be friends with me anymore, and I chickened out. I can't risk that, can't risk losing tens of years of great friendship over something that I could just shove to the farthest, darkest corner of my head, so I did just that." He laughed, a little bitterly. "Didn't consider him finding out on his own, though. Should've known better." 

She listened to his explanation very carefully, eyes never leaving him the entire time. Waited a few seconds after he stopped before asking, "Were you ever going to tell me?" 

He blinked, genuinely perplexed by the question. "Of course not. Never plan to do anything about it. I would never do that to him." 

She nodded, taking her fiancée's hand that was lying on the table and started playing with his fingers. He didn't stir one bit – he really was out cold. "He asked me if I want to, you know, do something about it. If I want to call things off with him and see if it can work out with you." 

Oh, how much he hated himself for the tiniest bit of hope creeping up his chest. He shoved it down the drain violently. "I would never ask you to," he said. 

"I know, but he insisted – said he doesn't want to be in the way if I feel the same for you, wedding preparations be damned. So I thought about it, like really thought about it. Figured it was for the best because I can't keep being in a relationship with him without being extra sure about my feelings, it's not fair for him." 

It was his turn to nod. "And? Did you come to conclusion?" 

Her eyes darted away from his, the first time since she started this topic, and it was an answer enough for him. "I'm really sorry," she whispered. "But I love him." 

He nodded again, solemnly this time. "Don't be sorry. I'm actually glad to hear that. He's really in it for life with you," he added absentmindedly, suddenly remembering the inhalers. "I would never ruin that for him." 

"Still, I'm sorry about the circumstances." She cleared her throat as her voice was threatening to break. "If there's anything – anything I can do to make it less shitty for you? I can come over less, or stop seeing you altogether." 

"No, don't." The reason came a little late after the quick answer. "I will always see you from time to time as long as I'm friends with him, which I intend to keep that way, so it's just impossible. And – " he hesitated for a second " – he's my best friend, but you've become my friend too, and I don't want to lose that either. So just... don't change anything." 

Her free hand was quick and swift, but he didn't miss the movement of wiping a tear away from her cheek. "Won't you feel miserable though?" 

Various memories of having to witness the exchange of loving gazes and affectionate gestures between his best friend and his fiancée ambushed him all of a sudden. It was unpleasant, painful even at first, but then he realized that the desire of wanting to see the two people happy was way, way stronger than the pain it caused. "I'll manage," he finally said. 

Both of her hands came over the table to grab one of his and squeeze hard. It lasted for just two seconds before she retreated and settled by gripping the edge of the table. She threw him a sweet, trembling smile. "In another life, maybe," she breathed. 

The thought of an alternate universe where they would work was pleasant enough for him to cling to. "Yeah, maybe." 

: Hey, sorry I was out cold when you came 

: Heard she talked it out with you? 

: yeah. sorry I didn't have the nerve to come clean sooner 

: No worries, man. Didn't want to confront you myself either 

: We're good, yeah? 

: I am, and going forward I will tell you if I feel otherwise 

: Good. Same goes to you 

: Maybe it's time for you to go scout some SINGLE ladies for yourself 

: rude. 

: Too soon? 

: a little 

: Sorry. I'll bring some peace offerings home 

[corrretan]

Glasses people love to make you try their glasses on to see how fucked up their eyes are. It's a sign of respect in their culture.

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Soon - come ver.

As the familiar honeyed voice filled in both of her ears trough the earbuds she was wearing, she felt more than half of the tension on her shoulders fading away already. "Hello." 

"Hello yourself." She beamed back at his smiling figure on the screen of her phone, the device propped up against her water bottle on the table. She made a quick calculation in her head, one that had come so naturally to her now because of the countless times she'd been doing it for the past year, and deduced that it was almost midnight where he was. Yet the background behind him was not the familiar one of the bed and the cabinet of his room; instead he looked like he was in his school's library. "Why are you still out and about at this hour? At a library, of all places?" 

He grinned sheepishly. "One ecstatic roommate of mine decided to hold a pre-graduation party at the flat. It was already turning into a jungle when I left to seek asylum here, and will undoubtedly be even a wilder one by now." 

"Poor thing." Her thumb moved to her phone, hovering over the part of the screen that was showing his unruly hair – though it was not even remotely close to actually ruffling his hair in person, actually feeling the soft strands glide between her fingers, but she made do like she always did. "I hope you're not still working on anything at this hour, though." 

"Nah, not anymore. Finished a little paperwork for the office an hour ago, now I'm just hanging around Twitter and YouTube." He squinted through her screen, undoubtedly doing his share of background-examination. "Why are you at a coffee shop instead of a restaurant for a proper lunch?" 

"It's right next to the hospital, so it's convenient. Also, they serve good sandwiches and salads." 

He frowned. "But didn't you have salad for breakfast? I will not have you only eat leaf like a cow for the rest of your life." 

She chuckled. "Funnily enough, your father made a very similar comment just now before I went here. He promised to take me out for a carnivorous gourmet later this evening." 

"I guess great minds do think alike." Something shifted on his face, washing away the playfulness on it and smoothing it down to a more serious expression. "How is he, by the way? Dad?" 

She knew perfectly well that the truth was the only way to go between the two of them; they would both rather swallow the pill directly no matter how hard, no sugar-coat. So she opted for just that, dropping her tone into a softer one to lessen the sting. "Better than yesterday, all things considered, but still getting no sleep and hardly eating – that's why I'm actually glad of his gourmet proposal because he'll get to eat properly. I plan to strong-arm him into going home after that to get some rest while I take tonight's shift." 

He pursed his lips, chewing them together as he often did when he was irritated by something. "And Mom? How's she doing?" 

"Again, better than yesterday. Stays awake for most of the time today, even though she still can't talk too much 'cause it'll hurt the wound from the surgery. But she's smiling a lot, and everyone is just glad that we're starting to get her normal self back." 

His pursed lips unraveled into a small smile as he let out a relieved exhale. "Thank goodness. What did the doctors say?" 

She filled him in on the medical and technical part for a while, glad she remembered most of the foreign terms rather easily. He listened carefully, chin resting atop intertwined fingers, both elbow on the table. "Bottom line, we're confident that she can go home next week. We think she may be home already by the time you get here." 

"Good, that's good." He closed his eyes, now leaning his forehead onto his hands. "I honestly don't know how to thank you enough." 

"For what?" 

"Everything. Taking care of my family throughout this whole process. When you're really supposed to be here for your little holiday." 

She huffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just glad I haven't left when it happened so I can be here." 

"Not a good way to use your hard-earned leave days, though." 

"Nonsense. Under these circumstances, I wouldn't want to do anything else." Her thumb unconsciously wandered to her ring finger, tracing the metal band resting there – one he'd put there just a little over a year ago, just before he left for his study a thousand miles away. "It's my family too, you know. Soon, anyway." 

She saw his chest rise and fall in a deep, heavy breath. Raked both of his hands through his hair – a gesture of frustration. But when he spoke, his voice was as soft as ever. "Soon." 

"Sorry I don't get to be there for your graduation, though," she said quietly. 

He lifted his face and smiled. He looked tired, she realized, and a little sad, but the fond smile warmed her insides nonetheless. "I'll survive. I do wish I was there with you, though. Now more than ever." 

"What are you talking about? You're here with me," she made a vague gesture around. "Through my screen, yes, but still here anyway." 

"It doesn't allow me to have you in my arms, so it doesn't count." 

For most of the time, the thirteen months of being so far apart was manageable for her – it was hard, sure, but she managed. But there were times, times like this, when she could almost physically feel the desperation hanging heavy between the two of them, and at times like this she found herself wishing with all her might that she could just dematerialize right then and there, only to reappear next to him. "You'll get to do that soon," she said, a little hoarse from all the feelings jumping up to her throat. 

"Soon," he agreed. 

It's starting to become a thing between them, exchanging "soon"s in between frustrated longing and hushed promises. Funny how it always sounded so close yet it never seemed to come – not soon enough. Even now, when the "soon" had deflated by a lot to only one more week, it was still not soon enough. But they'd make do, she thought, as they always did. 

She cleared her throat to lighten the mood. "I should probably go. Your brother asked me to pick him up from school straight to the hospital." 

"Tell him to find his own ride," he grumbled. "That ungrateful little thing." 

"Hey, he asked really nicely, I couldn't possibly say no. Besides, he's been very helpful this whole time, especially with the paperwork and the documents." 

He huffed. "He's always much nicer to you. Everyone in my family is much nicer to you." 

She smiled. "Again, they're my family too. I'll see you soon?" 

Even though it never seemed to come, they still clung to their "soon"s with their lives because it's all they had. It's what kept them going. For now, anyway. 

Even though he looked at her with pained eyes that were telling her a million and one things words couldn't cover, she knew he'd make do because they always did. 

"Soon," he promised. 

: [picture attached] 

: the carnivorous gourmet was great! we should go together some time 

: It does look so good... 

: We'll go there. Soon! 

: soon :) 

[corrretan]

Daily dose of life: Headache

It was an uncharacteristically long day at the campus for him. 

He usually didn't have many long days that required him to stay at the campus post-sunset, as he rarely had tasks that he couldn't finish in the comfort of his room. But today he had to stay back to participate in a mandatory meeting held by the student organization, and it took up the remaining of his social battery, leaving him drained. It also didn't help that the more the day inched forward, the more he felt the headache that had been lurking on the back of his scalp starting to take over his entire head. By the time they finally wrapped up the meeting, his head was throbbing and he wanted nothing more than to go home as quickly as humanly possible. 

But right before he pulled up the app to order his ride, feeling grateful that he decided against driving himself today, he saw her name flashed across the screen of his phone in an incoming call. Suffering as he was, he could never ignore a call from her, so he thumbed the green button. "'Sup?" 

"Question. Are you by any chance still out lurking somewhere and not yet confined within the solitary walls of your room?" 

He couldn't help but roll his eyes and smile. Even though he knew exactly where this was going, he always found her dramatic antics endearing. "Lucky you, I was just about to go home." 

"Second question. Are you perhaps willing to do one fair lady a favor?" 

"What kind of favor?" 

"Keeping me company," she half-whined, half-grumbled. "I don't want to go home before finishing this one task for a class tomorrow, but I still need an hour or two more, and I don't really feel like doing it in solitary confinement. I've been alone for the past three hours and I think I might be going insane." 

While he was mostly introverted with limited social battery, she was the exact opposite; she thrived off interactions with other people, the type to easily survive on incredibly long social events without needing to recharge at all. Surviving three hours alone was indeed much harder for her than it would be for him. And even though he was physically and socially drained at the moment, he could never deny her a favor that was within his capability – it was just not in his dictionary. Besides, being with her was always so easy for him; she was one of the very, very few people who didn't take up his social battery, and was just very nice for him to be around. "Fine. Where you at?" 

She let out a satisfied sound and mentioned her favorite café, one he'd visited with her at least a million times since their middle school days. Satisfied enough by the thought of ordering his favorite croissant, he continued his activity of ordering his ride once she hung up, changing the destination to said café instead of home. 

He found her perched on her favorite booth by the farthest wall, the one with the long, comfortable sofa. Both legs folded between the table and her chest, her chin resting on her knees as she frowned at the screen of her laptop. She looked up and lit up with a smile as he arrived at the table. "Hello! Thank you for – " She stopped abruptly, now giving him the exact same frown she'd given her laptop previously. "Are you okay?" 

He plopped down unceremoniously on the chair across her. "Sure. Why'd you ask?" 

Realization washed over her face and she grimaced. "You're having a headache, is it? Your left eye is hardly open." 

Having been the bestest of friends since middle school, he knew she practically had all of his tells documented in a dictionary somewhere inside her head, because he knew her each and every tell, too. "Yeah, but it's fine. Should be gone any moment now." 

She reached for her backpack to, he knew, the small inside pocket where she kept her emergency medicine. "You took meds yet? Think I still have some – " 

"No need, I had one just before getting here. Only need to wait for the effects to kick in." 

She let out a long sigh. "You should've just told me, you know. I won't ask you to come here if I knew." 

He waved her off. "No, don't worry about it. Can't let you go insane in your solitary confinement, now, can I?" 

"You should nap for a while, it'll help with the headache. I'll wake you up when..." She looked around at her table, which was crowded by her many books and notes scattered around her big-ass gaming laptop. Ended up patting the empty space next to her on the long sofa. "Come and just nap here. I'll be as still as I can." 

He chuckled, even though he felt yet another painful throb. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just continue with your thing." 

But she was nothing but persistent, so he ended up relenting to her suggestion and moved to her side. A nap did sound nice after all. 

She pulled his head to her lap as he lied down on the space next to her. Her hand lingered as her fingers rubbed slow, soothing circles on his temple, an effort she knew always helped him ease the pain even though not by much. The comforting gesture, the familiar presence of her, lulled him to sleep even before his eyes were completely closed. 

He found himself swimming in and out of slumber, sometimes due to the throbbing on his head, sometimes because of her movements. He knew how much of a fidgeter she was, so he was actually impressed by how much of an effort she put in to stay still. Her occasional grunts and sighs also woke him up a few times, but he couldn't really complain because he somehow found them all comforting. Every now and then when she was not typing furiously on her laptop, she would go back to massaging his scalp, and if he happened to be awake it would instantly send him back to sleep. 

Eventually he heard her whispering his name just above his ear. "Sweets, you need to wake up. They're closing soon." 

Groggy and disoriented, he quickly pushed himself to sit – and regretted it immediately, blinded by the violent throbbing bullying his head. He felt her hand on his shoulders steadying him immediately. "Easy, now. Slowly, slowly." 

Took him a few moments to completely drag himself out of slumber. As he sobered up, he noticed that the previously crowded table was already clean and her bag was already packed. He turned to her. "How long have you finished your task?" 

She bit her lip sheepishly. "A while. Didn't have the heart to wake you up." She was observing him, jet-black eyes behind thick glasses looking for tells of pain. "Are you feeling better? Did the meds kick in yet?" 

"Getting there." He shook his head, partly to rid himself off the remains of sleep, but mostly to shake the familiar, comforting, intoxicating feeling of her presence off his system. "You ended up in the solitary confinement after all. Sorry about that." 

She reached out to ruffle his hair – another familiar, comforting, intoxicating gesture. "Nah, I actually quite like it. I think I might be an introvert now." 

He laughed, absentmindedly thinking that she just might be the only person with the ability to make him laugh after the longest day and a headache. "Sure thing. Do you drive here?" 

As if on cue, her phone on the table lit up, announcing a call from none other than her boyfriend. He felt the small, becoming-familiar pang in his chest at the name, at the small smile that was creeping up her face involuntarily. She muttered a "sorry, give me one sec" before picking up the call. Apparently her boyfriend was on his way to pick her up as she didn't drive today, and she told him to take his time and not rush. 

He couldn't help but notice that despite being one of the most independent person he'd ever known, she'd been driving on her own less now that she had someone who always offered to drive her around all the time. And he was happy for her. He truly was; he knew very well how much she tend to get riled up behind the steering wheel, so he thought less driving time was actually good for her state of mind. But furthermore, he was happy that she finally found someone she could rely on and – more importantly – someone who could make her happy, because she truly deserved to be happy. And she did seem to be happier this past few months, after making it official with her boyfriend. He was happy for her, even though at the expense of his own feelings – which he only realized a little too late. 

"Sweets? Are you driving?" 

He blinked and found her staring at him, having finished the call with her boyfriend. "No. I'll Uber home." 

"Why don't you come with us? We can give you a lift." 

He grimaced accidentally at the "we" and the "us" – which she misunderstood as of pain, judging from the worry taking over her face. "No, no need," he said hastily before she could express any of her concerns. "I'm an adult, you know. You don't have to dote on me so much." 

"Ah, but to me you'll always be the sweet boy who loves sweets too much," she teased. "Speaking of which – " She gestured at the paper bag next to her backpack on the table. "I packed you your favorite croissant. And some bread for breakfast tomorrow. And no," she added firmly, definitely noticing his tells of protest. "This isn't me doting on you, I'm just taking care of you. We take care of each other as we always do." 

In a perfect world, he would not be such an idiot and would have realized his feelings sooner than later, and also would have the courage to confront said feelings and talk to her about it. In that perfect world, maybe the both of them taking care of each other would feel like the most natural, the most right thing rather than leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. But of course, this wasn't a perfect world. So there was nothing else he could do but roll his eyes and smile. "Fine." 

In this not-so-perfect world, that had to be enough for him. Just like spending time with her and being her bestest friend had to be enough for him. 

: Text me when you got home! Gotta make sure the vicious-looking Uber driver didn't kidnap you  : just got home, safe and sound  : she was actually quite nice, you know. small talks and everything  : She could have small talks and everything and still has the intention to kidnap you, you know  : Or maybe she just wants to get in your pants :p  : so funny  : thank you, by the way. for the sweets, and for letting me crash on your lap  : As if you wouldn't do all that AND MORE for me if it was the other way around  : Now go sleep off that headache!