Why?

(Rorim's POV)

It was late that Sunday afternoon when I received a message from Sam.

'Sos Ro! Please come to this cafe. Please! Pretty you, please!'

Under her text was the web map of the location. For some reason, her message felt off.

Should I go?

"Your turn, Rorim." Zen uttered, his scrabble tiles already laid down on the board.

A-S-S-I-S-T

So much for a sign.

I set my phone to the side and focused on my tiles. Not that I had much that was helpful, though.

"I have questions."

"Ask away." I placed down my tiles one by one and leaned back.

"If you like someone and you don't know if they like you back, will you pursue them?"

"I won't."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"I'll let the universe do its thing. If we're meant to be together, we will. If not, then I'm also okay with just loving them from afar."

"That's so boring. It's like you're waiting for the cake to feed you itself. There's a literal fork before you and all you have to do is take a forkful." Forkful?

"We're objectifying them now?"

He bit his lip and threw me a tile. "Don't change the topic."

"I'm just.. It's tiring to chase people who're not meant for you."

"You're speaking as if you've lived so long and broken your heart more than you've changed your phone." I really have though.

I could only smirk. My eyes went to the phone again.

"Not going to reply to that? You've been stealing glances at it for a while now." I didn't notice that I did, nor that he noticed.

"My friend just texted me, asking me to meet up saying she needs my help."

He threw tiles at me again. "Then what are you slacking there for?"

I threw more back. "Like you didn't leave your friend without notice! The nerve you got to call me off…"

He pursed his lips and leaned back. "Seriously though, they might be waiting. You're better than I am so you should be up on your arse, changing to leave."

I tilted my head. "I just feel off."

"Is that a guy?"

"I just said 'she', were you even listening?" I threw my tiles this time.

Flipping the board, the tiles scattered on the floor, he stood up and reached out his arms to me. "I'll come with you then."

My discomfort that used to intensify even if he just sat in the same room was replaced with surprise by his casual touch and approaches. That change felt better. At least now I wouldn't look like a stunned, puffed-neck frilled lizard (that I picture myself) whenever he's within six feet radius.

"You just decide like that now huh? We're at that level now huh?" I mimicked the way he said it earlier this morning.

He rolled his eyes while fighting a smile and pulled me up. "Yes. I'm doing you a favor. Now get up and lead the way. We can't keep your friend waiting."

......…

We closed the taxi door and stepped toward the sidewalk. Earlier, I texted Sam that we were close and she replied, 'Yay! See you!' with heart emoji. Still off.

"Nice cafe." Zen whistled as we stood before it. "Starting to wonder what kind of help your friend needs."

"My thoughts exactly." I opened the door and we went in.

The moment I walked in, I browsed each person's face. My eyes wandered the room, scanning for Sam. If she said 'see you' then she must have arrived already.

"She doesn't seem to be here." I thought aloud. I opened my phone and dialed on Sam's number.

riiiiiiiiing riiiiiiiiiing

"Not picking up?" He stared at my hand and I shook my head.

"Maybe she just went to the toilet. We should sit down first." He led us to the nearest table and we both sat.

"While waiting, let's talk about something." He leaned forward and rested his chin on his wrist.

"Of course..." I straightened and met his eyes.

"So, did you know that our birthmarks are not coincidental? They appear where we were hit or killed in our past lives."

I peered my eyes, curious. "I didn't deem you as superstitious."

"It's not superstition. It's real. People just refused to believe them." So there are people like him.

"What brought you to the topic?"

He pointed to my neck. "Birthmark on your neck."

I smirked. It was not because he believed it that amused me, but that it was the truth that people blindly deny. Truths were already between their noses and they still chose to believe it was otherwise.

"Guess how I died then." As if he would even know.

"That's the weird thing. You're a daughter of a well-off, comfortable, loving family and yet you have a mark as if you were lacerated brutally. It's impossible that your family would have a dangerous enemy."

"Or maybe I just had it from an accident, a sharp thing straight to my neck and bleeding me out dry when I tried to pull it out."

"You're spoiled, not dumb." He smirked. "Maybe you committed suicide, slicing your neck. But why?"

"Who knows." This is starting to get annoying.

"Still curious." He murmured, eyeing my neck and slowly diverted to my eyes.

Just in time when I needed distraction, my phone vibrated. I opened it and read Sam's reply.

'So so sorry Ro! My sister came home and I needed to go back. I still need help but I asked Norman to pass it to you! I'll super make it up to you next time! Please don't hate me!! I didn't know who else to trust them to!'

As if on cue, Norman appeared before me holding a pet carrier. We exchanged silent gaze and from my seat, I felt smaller than I already was.

"Hi." He uttered, almost a whisper.

I was first to look away, averting from him to Zen who had his thin lips curling.

"Did the 'she' shape-shifted in the toilet?" He glanced at Norman and studied him from head to toe.

"Please wait here." Zen nodded and I stood up.

My eyes reached Norman's again and I held my gaze as I waved my hand to him. He walked ahead and I followed until we exited the store.

I was steps behind him and I preferred that because I didn't like the idea of feeling his gaze on my back. I did that instead, darting my eyes on his broad shoulders, watching his footsteps as one foot trod carefully after the other. I thought about how it would be if he had been in different people's shoes, instead of me.

'Give every man the same pair of clothes and shoes in the world, how they walk will tell their story.', an old friend from the precinct once told me.

While some people walked intentionally, carrying their whole identity with their two feet, some with one and some none, I stopped caring about mine. Rather, no one would ever know my story no matter how I walked, because I walked like everyone else.

I was too deep in thought when I almost bumped on Norman. He stopped near the outdoor benches and faced me, his face expressed a faint surprise to see me close behind him.

"Shall we sit?" He nodded at the benches and set the pet carrier down on the seats.

I shook my head. "I assume that Sam's letting me keep her cats?" Caramel and Apple Sauce sat quietly in the carrier, looking up at us with their glowing eyes.

"Before that, can we talk for a while?" We already are, aren't we?

Sliding my hands to my pocket, I raised my head, meeting his eyes, anticipating.

"Have you written anything for the paper?"

I scoffed, as loud as my annoyance can sound. "I've written plenty, thank you for asking."

His eyes peered, his hands to his waist. "You seem to have a problem with me."

"Keen eye."

"Was it because I took a picture of you?" His gaze was now on the floor.

"Has anyone told you that snapping pictures, let alone without permission, is rude?"

He nodded a few times, his eyes on everything but my eyes. "I apologize. I won't do it again."

"That's all I needed to hear." Of course that was not enough. Eyes on the carrier, I went to the bench and carried it. "I'll get going. Good luck on your papers."

"Wait.."

I paused, not turning back.

"Why—"

I closed my eyes, my patience growing thin.

Just get on with it already.

"Why do I care?"

What?

I turned to my blatant confusion. "What did you just ask me?"

He raised his head and met my eyes. "Do you hate me?" Our exchanged gazes burned my stomach.

I swallowed, wishing that it would cool down this glaring emotions within me. "I do." More than you know. More than the reasons you thought caused. I hate you.

His change of expression, almost undefined, was oxygen to my flickering embers. And he choked, "I know but.."

Why…

I shook my head and left, praying that every dragging step teleported me farther away from there. That I was less curious and caring about everything he said, and that I was more hating than I already was.

————————————-

Seven days. Or nights. Seven more and I will finally see them hatch.

Norman and I laid on the blanketed floor, both faced to the ceiling.

"Are you excited?"

"Such a silly question."

He chuckled and I joined.

I stayed most of the time in the storage room, the only thing left to do there was bathe, sleep at night and eat. Norman too. He barely left the room after what happened in the kitchen three days ago. As for Gale, she happened to be more occupied with 'teenage' things, as Norman called it. While I missed having her around, she needed to be there more than here with us.

"What do you think teenagers do?" I sat up.

Norman tilted his head right and left, thinking. "I have older brothers who were teenagers. Nick was sixteen, then Nolan who was fourteen and Nelson who was thirteen. They did some boring things, reading, writing, painting, playing piano, violin and lyre, attending class and going to boring parties."

This was the first time that Norman talked about his family. His life, before he got here. I always wanted to ask, but I always kept my tongue tied whenever I thought about it, fearing that I would lose a friend in him.

"That's like most of us do then, except for the playing instruments and going to parties. What do parties look like anyway?"

He took a piece of paper and drew on it with a pencil. I leaned forward, close to his head, and watched.

"You always have nice drawings." He knew how to draw basically everything I have seen and everything he knew that I did not. And his drawings were not like those that other people would have to guess. One look and you can tell what they are, and they looked pretty.

"Not as good as my brothers."

"I don't know them and I don't care if they do. I like yours and as your friend, you only have to listen to me." His words became mine and he smiled in recognition.

He held out the paper and there revealed foods that I only saw in books and pictures, figures of dressed people and fancy decorations. "Parties have those. Boring stuff. I bet they would be fun if you were there."

"Perhaps." I looked at his drawing once more and slid them under the box, along the other papers we scribbled at.

Norman lied down again. "Growing up is boring."

"Gale must be so bored out there."

"Definitely." He nodded.

"I wish we don't grow up." If growing up was that boring, I didn't want it.

Later in the afternoon, two couples appeared at the door. Ms. Hipher, as always, welcomed them and took them to her office. Norman and I exchanged curious looks when we didn't spot a child. Were they the adults that will adopt us?

"Maybe they're here to check on us kids." Norman spoke from behind me.

I never imagined being with other people. Even though I have seen other adults take some kids from the shelter, I never thought about being taken by them. Some approached me when I was younger, asking me questions and telling me how quiet I was but they later got bored and so did everyone else.

"We should hide." He took my hand and led us to the storage room.

"Why are we hiding?" I asked when we got inside.

"Just because."

"Okay." Whenever he said something, he either knew more or he didn't mean anything deep. Either way, I trusted him. He was always right anyway.

"Raven?" I raised my head from the box to Norman. "Can you promise me one thing?"

"Among other things?" I joked.

He was still stern. "Can you?"

I mirrored him and straightened up. "What is it?"

"Can you promise me that you will never forget me?"

"Why would I forget you?" Why was he asking this?

"Because you're my only friend and I don't want you to forget me." He pouted, the kind he would do when he was sad, and hiding.

I didn't know why but I felt my stomach flutter. Not the usual comfortable warmth but the nervous flutter. This only happened whenever we had check-ups and whenever I did something that upset Ms. Hipher, two of which only happens rarely.

"I promise. I don't think I'll forget you anyway but I promise still."

He held out his pinky finger, a gesture I only saw for the first time. "Hold yours out too."

And I did. His finger curled on the base of my and I copied. Then he plucked out his thumb and I copied as well.

"Pinky promise."

"Where did you learn this?" I was amazed at the form of our hands, the way they looked like an upturned heart.

"Nick taught me. Now say pinky promise."

I obeyed not before I pinched his cheek.

When we released, he rubbed his cheek and I went to my usual seat. I watched him look more relaxed, the crease on his forehead disappear, and kept my curiosity to myself.