old. His phone on her hand, she peered at it, to the lines, to the dots, to the labels on the map, u

theast monsoon was already around the corner, almost vanishing. The summer heat already brewing

s weary face against the artific

uisitive. "Of course," he said,

able, then started absent-mindlessly removing buttons of his uniform before her, and thereafter while walking slowly heading inside the store

o carry them but afraid it might hurt them, so she just caressed their fur, slowly, so soft like their owner's warm heart between her fingers. She envied them. They were so lucky, unlike her. She had questions on her mind she'd accumulated just from their brief encounte

as if he was absorbing all the lights passed through him and nothing escaped, like a blackhole. It was too much and too difficult for her to reciprocate, his gallant and unashamed display of affection, so she hoped visible nod would do the compensation. Somehow it looked like it did,

dn't care. Realizing something, they looked away from each other, ashamed of themselves, of what they were thi

ets. Lampposts now in idle to recharge. Occasional cars gradually increasing in numbers. Hurrying strangers in jackets sometimes, sipping just-boiled coffee. The raw wind of dawn rested on the branches, cold on the moistened leaves. Ya

place as he went out. He was only in white shirt now, undeniably muscular, visually stimulating. His pants and tucked-in shirt were secured firmly by his leather belt around

e was saddened and angered by the fact that they weren't selling any footwear he

not a point of actually hiding his very feeling anymore. Or he was just really unaware of his own flesh's autonomy. Since his face was so nonchalant right now (his face still unsatisfied with the result of his undertaking which was not getting what he wante

oking at the food inside it (it was a puffy siopao so white like cotton and a water bottle), he vanished from her sight and fell into his knees, a hand asking for her busted ankle, no words spoken.

stroking it with his thumb, assessing the epicenter of the ache. "What about here?" He touch

e was trying to minimize the guilt. Althou

hing's inner-working. He took a gray handkerchief out of one of his pant's pocket, then a handful of ice cubes on the plastic bag, putting them inside it, then wrapped the corner to make a diy ice pack. The first intact made her flinched a little, but his other palm charged with an electrifying warmth, supporting the back of her leg, was easing the ache, but not something else that was more than in need to assuag

he worked it out. And he was glad

art. She couldn't swallow what she was eating and just chewing it in micro pieces. She felt nauseous. Instead, she offered it to him. He looked at it a moment long and shifted unexpectedly, biting on the the very area she had eaten it. Clenching jaw, puffy cheeks. His huge bite revealed the meaty insides,

ir whole selves merely for his sustenance, like an animal on a lake finally out of danger away from wilderness, reflecting itself. In the whole duration of drinking his ferocious eyes were at her eyes alone, as if enjoying the burning field crackling behind them, smoke rising to unheard-of heights like a plea to heaven. Clearly it was from his own doing, and undoubtedly he loved it very much. It was the first time he smirked from their whole moment togeth

eing his face when going inside the convenience store, just so to fully soak themselves to his simple gorgeousness, his dominating physique. But unlike them, the subject of their affection and admiration didn't seem equally as interested to them, this handsome boy who never