Chapter 2

She sat under the warmth of the Kotatsu table, placed the Laptop on top of it, and lifted her fingers to write, but did not realize when she began biting her nails.

The clear screen before her blurred, and her spine stiffed on the place, her mind racing. 'What if I really messed things up this time? What if he's finally had enough?' Meanwhile, the biggest hand of the clock shifted from six to seven, unrecognized by her.

Her throat tightened, and her legs grew stiff. Her fingers trembled and her eyes tore up from the screen. Her mind ran a mile at the speed of lightning, talking, 'Can I fix this?'

Silence. Her mind spoke no answer.

Then she suddenly clutched her fist and exhaled, blinking restlessly, and stood up from the trance. The warmth of Kotatsu which she assumed comforting proved unhelpful at that very moment. 

She swallowed thickly down her dry throat and hurried for a glass of water from the kitchen. But somehow ended up in her dark bedroom and began searching for her phone. On the table beside the large mirror, on the mattress, or on the small cabinet under the large TV screen.

She did not find it, only causing her heart to race faster.

Failure froze her beside the bed when her eyes fell on the curtains. She instantly drew them and then looked for her phone, finally finding it on the table beside her bed.

She sat up on the edge of the bed, turned on the lamp, and dialed the first number in the history of call logs, her foot squirming on the floor, while the phone rang, glued to her ear.

The phone's insistent ringing grated on her nerves. She bit her lip, her foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the floor. She couldn't seem to sit still, a restless energy building inside her.

But before she could stand up, Rahul answered.

One of her closest friends. A young lad of the same age.

He was her companion beside Amara from their childhood, a protector and caregiver, well aware of her distant personality, a total opposite of them. He had always stood up beside her in times of need like the time of her most cruel heartbreak when she needed an ear or a shoulder. 

He greeted her with warmth, but when received no response for a few seconds, he excused himself from her girlfriend and sat himself in the silence of his bedroom.

"What happened?" He questioned with serenity. She explained, hurried with each word, and looked outside the window, staring at the moon.

He understood nothing for how frantically she spoke and suggested that she speak not a word for a minute, his tone instant yet comforting. 

"Breath." He calmed her down, then once again asked what had happened.

She explained everything she witnessed last night, gazing at the blinking lamp, and added. "I've never seen him cry like that."

She further accused herself of being the culprit behind her lover's tears, adding the fact that there was no one else who could hurt him for how loved he was by everyone. "It has to be because of me!" 

Rahul's words disappeared in his throat for a second. He was just staring at the floor thinking about the situation thoroughly before he said anything.

Then, he questioned, "Why do you think you're the culprit?"

His question drained the well of her words.

Upon receiving no response, he further questioned. "Do you not love him anymore?"

"I love him!" She claimed, her gaze fixed on the lamp, her expression unreadable. "A bit — too much, I guess." Her tone subtled.

"Then how come you think you've hurt him?" Rahul demanded, his eyes blankly staring at the handcuffs on his night table.

Speechless. Her eyes wandered everywhere, from the moon behind the glass door to the warm and fuzzy orange slippers beside her cold feet. Still, nothing came out of her lips until she recalled the times she had denied his passion for cooking for her— his company or even his skin. 

"So, you've been distancing yourself from him?" She instantly denied his accusation, adding, "I would not call it that. I don't know how to - fear. I have this feeling - I feel scared. Every time I see him smile at me, I feel-- terrified."

"Terrified? What for?" He questioned, revisiting the portrayal of affection showcased by Riku.

"I do not know! It's just - I think what if one day he decides that he does not love me anymore?" Her voice trembled through the phone, her heart skipping a beat which Rahul quickly caught. Yet, he said nothing.

He just breathed strongly through the phone, realizing she needed to unfold her fear at her own pace.

"Are you behaving ---differently -- with him?" Rahul's question left her spiraling, shoving her back into the boxes of memories where she wanted to say how much he meant to her, but she did not. Or when she wanted to shower him with compliments, take him out on dates, or even when she wanted to tire him throughout many nights. 

Because of the fear hanging high upon her sight. In his face. "I should have done those things. I should have --- I wouldn't have to see him cry if I did."

That night when drunk Riku returned home she listened and watched him slur about the oranges he saw at the market, with still eyes, pouring him a glass of water while he sat on the chair beside the kitchen counter.

He suggested they were fresher than the ones he had bought earlier and that he'd buy them first thing in the morning.

She'd love them, he claimed, smiling at her. He looked satisfied with his brilliant discovery, his persuasion for her affection very evident at that moment.

Realizing what his search for better oranges meant she just stared at him until he was asleep in her arms, cooing about the scent of the oranges he had gathered with him throughout the whole evening.

That night, her realization denied her an adequate amount of sleep.

While he slept like an adorable puppy, his body unmoved, until the morning came with her hesitant request to give her anything sweet for breakfast.

Her sudden request hurried his hands, thrilled and brought a bright smile upon his cheeks while he prepared orange marmalade and a toast, completely forgetting about buying the fresh oranges. 

He just did not imagine his morning to bring out the surprise of her request, which he had been waiting for. 

Even when he was placing the plate on the dining table, he could not hide his smile. He had been waiting for her to request him to cook for her. 

He sat in front of her and with beaming eyes watched her spread the marmalade on the toast and take the first bite of it. 

 She softly moaned to the tangy and sweet taste upon the first bite and caressed his cheek, smiling brightly after such a long time at him. 

Her gentle touch left a glistening effect on his body and senses, he smiled brightly and waited for more affection when she offered him a bite of the toast. "It tastes good. Doesn't it?

He nodded, his head struggling to do so, his eyes fluttering when suddenly she cleaned his lips with her thumb and licked it, prompting his face irresponsive.

"You said you wanted to buy -- oranges?" She questioned, and his eyes fluttered and back straightened to senses, instantly reminiscing the act he had performed last night.

"I'm sorry." He quickly apologized and clenched his eyes shut, his heart beating faster than it already was. "I must have troubled you." His tone hastened.

"With what?" Eating the last bite of the toast, she demanded, her tone as subtle as her eyes. "I was way too drunk. I must have -- frustrated you?" He laughed awkwardly with his head craning down, summoning silence.

Her fingers intertwined on the table as she looked at his nervous features, bit her lip, and looked away, shutting her eyes tightly. "You must have been very lonely." She whispered.

His eyes dropped upon her rigid face, his eyebrows furrowed, and he questioned what she meant.

She did not respond to the question and stood up. "Why don't you go buy those oranges?" She smiled at his confused eyes, then looked away, hiding her face.

She must have smiled brightly before his eyes, but her heart was aching with the pain of knowing that she had hurt him.

That day when he left to buy the oranges, thinking about what she meant by her surprising claim, all she could think about was the loneliness he must have faced.

She could not sit straight, work, think straight, or even speak straight, only sighed and stared at the laptop screen, sitting on the warm sitting on the floor, thinking of ways to salvage her trouble.

END OF THE CHAPTER 2.

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