Hélène

Erwin Smith has always been the person to give where credit is due—sometimes excessively—despite your gaps in age, profession, and the lack of interaction when out of work premises. He can be meticulous with outputs, brutally honest even, but considerate to his research assistant nonetheless. All with constant assurances of "It's okay, you'll get the hang of it soon," and when you respond, "What if I don't?" he smiles as if to say he's been there too, "Then I failed as your mentor," he cocks his head to the side in a light tease, "and I'm not the type who fails unless I say so, am I?"

The camaraderie, the neverending reminders of how crucial collective work is, among many others—got you drawn, utterly motivated, and so you clung to him to learn more.

One evening, when Erwin says he must stay overnight at the office to finish an output, you excuse yourself. He thought you were going home until you entered again, this time with two cups of coffee.

Although seated in his office chair, how his thick blanket wraps him up seems like he’s ready to bed. He got his bed hair too—tousled, the usual gel removed because he had already washed his face. The dim lights aren’t helping in toning down his delicate features either. In fact, his reading glasses accentuated it further. And oh, the small, warm smile he gives you is even more apparent than any daylight.

“What are you doing here?

You nudge a look at your workstation, own backpack occupying the whole chair. "I hadn’t grabbed my stuff yet."

"Well,  I assumed you were gonna send me a message full of keyboard smashes and a favor to book a courier taxi for your bag."

Soft chuckles ensue as you sit on the chair before him, "I will never put you into such inconvenience, Sir, but I believe we can submit this draft if we work on it together tonight."

Erwin holds back his gratitude, not so convinced to let a youngster like you stay. Although your help is very much needed, he can't just take that for granted. You have a life outside this office. Your salary as his research assistant isn’t even that high. "Thank you for the coffee. I was just about to get out for one. But really, don't bother with this and go home."

"I insist, Sir."

"And I respectfully refuse."

Of course, you know that much. Not even a coffee bribe could convince him. That’s why you hand him a folder instead: "I saw your to-do list for tonight and remembered that I had already done the basic outline. Would you mind checking it to see if it could help?"

Easy, Erwin thought to himself. He just has to point out the mistakes, thank you for your effort, and then book a cab because it's getting really late now. However, when he opens the document, needless to say, Erwin is perplexed.

You did well; you really did. You took his brutal feedback to heart. Now he's left with no other remarks than pride. This is no basic outline at all, but rather half of the work he had to do for tonight.

It also doesn’t take his astuteness to see that you have lied. All of these were done today. Erwin is sure you sneaked into his table earlier to see his to-do list. He knows you too much to know that you had spent the rest of your shift rushing to finish it in his stead. However, Erwin also knows how flustered you’d be once he points that out, so he just opts not to. 

"Well, seems like I'll be able to sleep tonight after all," he put down the folder and smiled. "Thank you very much. This is by far the most excellent output I've got from you."

Your eyes lit up. The high praise overpowered any semblance of fluster, "Really? Is it that good?"

"It is. I just have to continue the rest. You may now go home."

"No, I told you I'm staying in for tonight."

"What else would you do?"

"Uh… help you with the rest of the output?"

"I can do that alone."

"But easier with my help!" When you sense that his insistence is, in fact, non-negotiable, you just sigh and pull out a lie. "Okay, it's because I have a favor."

"Oh?" The needed cue, perhaps. He cannot accept an offer that wouldn’t benefit both parties. If you have an agenda for this stay, then, "What could that be?"

You don't want this favor to be something he has to pay for, "Well, if my output is okay and you have no other comments, then maybe you could consider me joining the fact-finding mission next month?"

"The place isn’t finalized yet; it can be really far from here."

"I know and I still want to join either way," Besides, it gives you more chances of helping him.

"Okay, go on then, but you don't have to stay overnight for that,” Erwin chuckles. “You could've just asked me during office hours."

"I want to prove that I'm capable first."

Erwin, although tried to hide it in consideration for your feelings, got quite amused at the remark. He didn't see the possibility of you getting this insecure over your skills. "You've always been capable. You're not the longest research assistant I've had for nothing.”

"Really? Did you fire the previous ones?"

"No. I treat my RAs the way I do so with my students. You’re not my employees. It’s just that some if not most, couldn't take the demand work-wise. You're one of the few who withstood revising your output five times."

"Then all the more reason to let me stay here tonight, don't you think? With the upcoming fact-finding, I'll need this one now."

Erwin removed his glasses with a sigh, ready to bargain again. "You don't need to go this far, is what I'm telling you. You're still young; don't tie yourself over—"

"I want to learn more and stay longer in this field. I already take pride in being your longest RA, and I can do more than that! I'll get even more capable. We'll get this research internationally. If you’re talking about my youth, I have a worthwhile agenda!"

Erwin, as rare as it could be, was speechless. it’s as if he’s looking at himself, too—a younger, much more enthusiastic version of him with an unwavering thirst for knowledge. He had also realized that there’s no use stopping you. You're not the kind of person to be stopped; you're no brittle glass; you're one aching to be filled with more water.

With that, he defeatedly wears his glasses again, "Suit yourself. Don't hesitate to ask me questions while you're at it."

You beam in delight. It is surely contagious that Erwin almost smiled. "However," he sternly emphasized, "You'll sleep. I'll set the alarm. If that rings, set yourself on the couch and sleep, understood?"

It was quickly replaced with a frown, "I'll sleep after I finish."

"You're inside my office outside office hours. Your welfare is in my hands."

You turn your back in forlorn, your work plan ruined because your boss is too kind for his own good.

"Answer me."

"Yes, Sir."

Above your insincere compliance, however, Erwin feels warmth trembling inside him. It’s a sheer appreciation, an urge even, to ensure you'll have what you aspire to have.

He really assured you’d be asleep by three in the morning. When Erwin checks you on the couch, your eyebrows are curled, disappointment evident even in your subconscious state. He laughs, grabs a thicker blanket, and covers you in it—all believing that the warmth trembling inside him is just a resolve to help you achieve your goals.

What Erwin had felt since that day was something akin to a guardian. You seem to desire to reach a place exactly where he is. Although unsure of your reasons why, Erwin feels capable of doing that much.

But you know the reason quite well, and it's rather disappointing than noble. You like Erwin, and so you want to stand on equal ground. In your defense, you had a long period of denial. This could be nothing but a silly infatuation, mistaking admiration for affection, and—god, out of all reasons to use as a resolve, why a silly little crush over your boss?

The dilemma is to build up a resolve stronger than infatuation. However, infatuation doesn't last for years. It doesn't get to the point of getting included in your long-term plans in life.

So, in time, alongside Erwin getting more comfortable and closer to you, your resolve to be his equal slipped beyond the professional scheme. It transcended to your habits, to your preference, to your physical appearance—your playlist is set a generation behind, being called young irks you, you dress like your older workmates, you're eager to conceal the emotions lacking composure, the sudden surge when excited, among many other things that fit the standard of maturity.

You want to stand beside him, to be regarded as his equal, because by then, maybe… maybe he'd consider having you longer in his life.

Erwin construed your methods differently, though. He pitied you just as though the institution was depriving you of your youth. That's why when you enter your masters degree, he refers you to joining study groups of people your age. He sticks his ear out regarding college nightouts to tap you to join them. He even considered hiring another young assistant in the department so that you could have someone to jive with.

"No, I'd rather be the one to stay here. I like the way our office works right now.”

"Why? Are they out of your league? Way too old to mingle with them, perhaps?

You shrug, "Maybe. I'm not getting younger after all. Isn’t it obvious?”

"It’s not,” Erwin quips. “Let yourself be young."

"Sir, I am not young anymore."

"You are. Remember the last fact-finding? A local thought you were someone's child—"

"I will never forgive them for that!" you hissed at the memory. "I might’ve been the youngest one that time, but to say I'm an employee's child is overreacting!"

"Well, you were indeed the youngest out of everyone. It's not a surprising comment."

You don’t answer, obviously trying to keep your annoyance to yourself. It begged Erwin to ask, "Do you hate being young?"

You do! Oh hell, you do. Being younger means farther from where he is—being incapable of reaching him, holding his hand, his hair, and all the things you want to grasp with adoration. Being young means maintaining a table-away distance, which must be safeguarded so normalcy remains in peace. Being younger imposes a lot of things that render you in swirling emotions of disdain, sadness—grief, even. 

He calls your name, genuinely confused, "What's bad with being so young? You're the first person I've ever seen rushing away from it."

And, for the first time ever, Erwin is taken aback by the look you give him. It is sad, utterly sad. There’s a tinge of tremble in your lids, eyebrows curled, and if he squints his eye further, he’ll see how close you are to crying. 

However, before your eyes could speak more of what you wanted to say, you avert the gaze away and continue your job as if nothing had happened.

Erwin is quite taken aback to address the sudden peculiarity, and you couldn’t even gather the guts to clarify due to the trembling. At that moment, only one thing had registered with the older man: the talk of being young is a grave matter to you. It concerned him further.

"Hey," Hange, your workmate, places a cold can of coffee on your cheek, "Penny for your thoughts? You're quite down lately."

"I almost cried in front of Mr. Smith last week."

"Oh? Maybe that's why Erwin told me to look over you more often. What brought you that, though? You seem to be immune to his brutal standards by now."

"It's quite more childish than that."

"You're not even old. Let yourself be childish."

You frowned badly, "That's what he told me."

Hange takes a while to grasp the context, but when they finally do, "You're getting on my nerves now, huh! Youthfulness is not something to shed a tear for!"

"Being young exposes me to a lot of belittling!"

"Seriously? Just because of that?"

"People look at me as though I'm lacking many things!"

"Even people as old as Erwin can be as lacking as you are!"

"But they can still stand beside him as equal either way! Despite lacking many things in life, all of you can reach him in a way I never could because of my age! Because I'm automatically seen as someone inferior due to youthfulness! I know it's not something to frown upon, but I'm getting quite sick of it, too, you know?"

However, the sharp Hange went past the said concern. It says a lot with the way they call your name with wide eyes, "Don't tell me you…you like him?" The last word is a whisper, just as if someone from behind has been listening all along.

That realization drenches you in cold water.

You turn sidewards slowly, hoping in all your might that it isn't what you think it is.

Oh, how you hate to be right.

Erwin didn't make his presence known while you and Hange were talking—no apparent emotion present, and yet it didn't take you much to know that he heard it nonetheless. There's something only you could notice, too. For the past few days, Erwin's face has been full of questions about finding something—something very apparent but still out of reach.

The hint of bother is gone now. He had reached his answer.

He now knows you like him.

You almost feel yourself throwing up. 

"Okay," Hange said from behind, "well… if you really don't like to be deemed as young, then I respect that. It's not like your reasons are irrational." 

By that time, you couldn’t hear Hange’s rationalizations anymore. In fear that Erwin would refer you to another person needing RA as a better choice to expand your horizons, you never gave anyone a chance to talk about it again—not Hange, not Erwin, and even more so, your own mind.

You didn't know how Erwin processed that information, but there's one thing you noticed: Erwin's attempts to jive you along your age group had stopped, and he never called you young again.

Only if you knew the reason why.

Only if you knew that, in hindsight, it'd just be very understandable, very human of him to rather die than act upon the feelings he has for you, not only because of the probable ruin it’d bring to his reputation, but also because he’s scared for you, for your future, for the endless opportunities you could have if not tied by your affection towards him.

And thus, he'd rely on the subtleties of loving you silently. He is glad you never brought up the unintentional confession again. He believes that due to that, you two went back to normal as quickly as possible. Senior to junior relationship. The researcher and his assistant. The mentor and his mentee. The normalcy. Every semblance of normalcy you two could hang on, as if your relationship, even after all those years, is none but a brittle glass. There has to be a certain amount, a certain pressure, just so it would not break apart.

Erwin loves subtleties. He doesn’t mind the arrangement at all. You're short on money? He'll lend you one—only because you'd never let yourself not pay him back. You look tired? He'll offer cups of coffee to everyone in the office so it doesn’t get obvious that the gesture is only for you. You need someone to talk to and listen to your funny stories, perhaps? Heck, that would be his utmost favorite profession.

He'll keep doing just that until the subtleties in question start to pile up, and up and up. Until Erwin realizes, “No, I am not okay with this arrangement at all.” He can only fool himself for a certain period of time. After all, mere droplets of water can still make a glass full. 

As his most capable and astute—perhaps even too sharp for your own good—you'll start picking up clues from his quiet verges. The ticking time bomb flashed before you upon overhearing Erwin and Levi talking alone.

“You’re decided now? Really? After all we had gone through to keep this institution alive?”

"It's only a matter of time until I lose myself. Losing myself means running whatever she has for herself."

"You manage not to lose yourself all this time. What difference would this make? As long as you keep your hands in place like every other day, then everything will remain in its rightful place. Everyone needs you here, Erwin."

For a moment, you sure saw a cynical look on Erwin. “People like me are always meant to be replaced eventually, Levi. I know you can do it.”

“I could if I deem the reason valid,” Levi scorns. “You’ve never been like this. All you had worked so hard for only to be sapped by your underling.” 

He chuckles, albeit sadly. "I underestimated the things she could do without her knowing."

Indeed, he might've done just that. Slowly but surely, you tried to convince him to stay in your own subtle ways. You reiterated Levi’s remarks about how the institution needs him, and eventually, when his resolve didn't waver, you broke down. You broke down, begging that you need him.

"If this concerns your teetering control over your affection, I'll try my best not to disturb you!"

 If Erwin weren't so level-headed, Erwin would surely break his composure.

"You knew?"

"If you're so scared to shatter this peaceful and normal setup, then I'll set my mind to not ruining it, too! Just please, please don't go.”

You knew. You knew. You knew.

As if things couldn't get any worse, you huffed a sob when Erwin’s silence persisted. Eventually, he smiled. It's no use underestimating you further, after all. He deems you sharp and smart for a reason. In that measly smile, you knew he’d never change his mind anymore. Oh, there's no use underestimating each other.

"This is something I really want to do for myself," Erwin called your name; empathy laced his voice, "I hope you understand."

You sob harder. And for the first and last time, Erwin lets himself give in to his vices. He walks towards you and wraps your sullen figure in his embrace. He doesn’t hug too hard, but rather just enough to deem it a friendly farewell—not in any way related to his unwavering but forbidden affection.

Years after Erwin had gone overseas, it came to you that he had married someone. The marriage didn't last long. Most people in the office believed that his declining health after that—according to his colleagues there—was due to the divorce.

Voiding yourself of any lament that his affection might be something he left in this office, you set your mind to following him. Somehow, there's this silly, silly thought inside your head, and the only way to satiate it is to prove yourself wrong.

"Erwin heard you're planning to follow him there."

"Really? What did he say?"

"He didn't take the news well. Asked me to change your mind instead."

"Levi, you're not making me change my mind by outing him."

"We both know no one can convince you anymore once you set your mind to it. Erwin knows it, too. He’s just desperate, hence the favor,” he tiredly muses. "Just… just don't make this harder as it is."

"Why? Why would I make it harder? What relevance do I even have?"

"You know the reason why he left."

"And? He moved on!” You almost feel your blood boil; the remark left a bitter taste in your mouth. “He had a wife not long after!"

"And if I tell you that the reason he got divorced is the same reason why he left us here, what then?" Levi raises his eyebrows as if taunting, and because you were too shocked to retort, he just nods sarcastically. “You couldn’t take it, yeah? Too unbearable? That’s what I thought.”

You're not even there yet, and you've already proved your silly thoughts right.

Minutes pass until you open your mouth again, "I'm not the one to rely on groundless rumors."

"Rumor is the last thing that will come out of my mouth."

"I already booked a flight."

Levi rolls his eyes, defeated, upon realizing you’re about to cry. He leaves the room without a word, leaving you and the tears teetering at the lid of your eyes.

Upon arrival at the country he’s in, you sought him first and foremost. He gave a small smile, full of endearing familiarity, but in the corner of his eyes, there was this lurking forlorn.

"You look like you've seen better days, Sir."

He tiredly laughs, "And you're not making this easier for me."

"I know… but I stand by my word. I decided not to ruin this peaceful and normal setup you've so bravely built for us."

You made sure the sarcasm would be too apparent to miss. Surely, it rendered Erwin in a tormenting silence. A squint of your eyes and you’d see how—in a couple of seconds—close he was from shattering. His fingertips shook, perhaps from the urge to act upon his feelings, an urge he expertly ignored until he couldn’t anymore. You saw his eyes turn even more poignant, only to blink so they would display a relatively more appropriate emotion. He opened his mouth only to close it again, open and close, until he gulped down. In the end, Erwin still bravely decided not to shatter the professionalism between you.

Erwin nods and calls your name, thankful, "Indeed, we had worked so hard to do that much. I trust you to keep that attitude up."

However, to your surprise, Erwin asked you to dinner three weeks after you settled. Now, as you sit by each other with drinks in your hands, there comes lurking questions of "what if?" inside your heads.

You silently ponder about what if you didn't let Erwin be bothered by your concerns about age in the first place. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't get a country far away from you, not to the point of taking someone as his wife so that he could throw away his affection. 

But then, thinking about it just makes you annoyed right now.

Unlike before, you’re trying your best this time. You’re trying even better in toning yourself down. You ensure day by day that you'll never cross into each other. You never try to see him unless he asks. Knowing that he's nearby keeps you at ease already. That's what you're on all this time—not to be too far from where he is. 

So why did he ask you out tonight?

Erwin speaks of his “what if” when the silence got too tormenting for him. "Maybe if I referred you to another division as soon as I heard that, then—" he doesn’t finish the remark, though; everything was enough with his defeated sigh. Despite the lack of eye contact, you can observe that he's already drunk, too.

You took that to your benefit.

"What would change?"

"A lot of things, I'm sure."

"Such as…?"

"The need to undergo this kind of torment."

You could almost feel yourself crumbling. This was supposedly a catching-up night out. It was going well so far.

"Is liking me really that distasteful for you back then?" you joke—oh, you hope you could tone it as a joke. Erwin chuckles. The chuckle gave you a sigh of relief.

"Levi had told you even that one, I see."

The conversation is starting to leave a bitter taste in your mouth. You start to fidget around the hem of your blouse, unsure if the sensation is due to the drink or the conversation. "I think I've drunk enough. I have errands to do early in the morning. I guess we'll—"

"Liking you was never a distasteful matter for me."

You stop. The churn in your stomach gets even larger. If he says it this softly, how could you stop the urge to run to him, hold him close in comfort, and say that it was never his fault that he liked you—that both of you are not at fault for liking each other?

"Liking you was never a distasteful matter; acting upon that likeness is," he added.

"You never acted upon it."

"I did," Erwin dismissed the notion quickly despite his mind slowed down by the drink, "I acted upon it because I didn't transfer you to another professor as soon as I realized why you don't want to be young anymore."

"Because no one brought it up again. I made sure no one would—"

"I acted upon it because I took advantage of your preference never to bring that up. I hid along the subtleties and even enjoyed doing so."

Erwin then places his glass of wine on the table. It's empty. You want to fill it up yourself; if only the taste of wine in your mouth didn't get too bitter to handle.

When you feel the bitterness tipping tears in your eyes, you reply, "I decided not to ruin this peaceful and normal setup you built for us. We're not—" The bitterness didn't subside; it says a lot with tears cutting you off midway, "—fuck."

"Why did you follow me here?"

"I didn't. I saw this as an opportunity for the betterment of my goals."

"What goals, exactly?"

Of reaching you where you are—both of you know that would be your primary, unchanging answer. "Goal to find myself somewhere somehow. I can’t do that there.”

He smiled at the lie, "Are you sure you'll be able to find yourself here?"

"I always find myself wherever you are."

His smile falters in a bit of surprise. He never thought it'd be a truth on your end.

"I said we're not supposed to talk about this; why would you—" You finally give in to the grief. You cover your face and sob, "I've set my mind on it. I already ensured I would—"

"Do you still like me?"

His question freezes you, your cries, the motion and sound of the place surrounding you, even.

"It's an irrelevant question, sir. There's no point in hearing my answer."

"How about my answer?" Erwin prompts. "Are you okay without hearing it?"

Huh?

You look up at him, breath getting heavier. "What do you mean…?"

Instead, he looks at you straight in the eye. He might be a bit drunk, but he decided this with a clear mind. This is why he asked you tonight, "Don't you want to hear my answer?"

"I want to."

He nods as expected, "Then answer it first."

"I still like you," you looked away in a fluster. "It never wavered despite your attempts to go away from me."

"I was away from you for five years," Erwin says. Despite the gentleness, you could feel how he emphasized the time out of frustration. “Do you have any idea how long five years is?”

"Yes, and still. Your efforts were futile. I told you so. It would help no one. Going far away from me would help no one.

The statement renders him in silence yet again. You’re about to give the question back at him until you notice the fragile expression he has on his face. He’s looking down at the glass, now half full, but with sullen eyes and defeated composure.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

"I asked for it," Erwin clarifies.

"I know."

"And I'm yet to give my answer."

"Please do."

"Are you sure you want to hear it?"

Honestly, you fear he'd say no—that he doesn't like you anymore. Worse, that he liked his then-wife more than you. However, any answer that warrants his complete honesty is something you need to be able to move forward from tonight.

Your ponders are cut off when he cups your cheek. It tilted your face slightly, but just enough to look him in the eye again. This is the first time you see his eyes up close. Your heart would jump in delight if not for his sad face. Erwin’s thumb then moves circular motions on your cheeks as if savoring the first time it's ever been granted the privilege of touching you intimately.

"It never wavered for me, too, but I guess this answer isn't surprising on your end, is it?"

"I… never got the chance to confirm it, so…"

"That's why," his hold on your cheek gets quite tighter, and voice turned into a whisper—into a tiny, desperate plea. “Please don't make this harder for us and go back there. Can you do that for me?"

"Why would it be harder if we both like each other?"

Was the question too naive? That's the first thing you thought, and Erwin answered yes, it is, by wrapping his palm on your other cheek. 

"In a hopeful and kinder world, we wouldn't budge an eye with what others say. It won't bother you a bit if your loved ones scorn you. You'd take the institution's disdain with a grain of salt. You'd look past beyond the side eyes of your friends and colleagues because it's not a big deal." he paused as he shot a look all over your face, finding a hint of understanding. "You see, we're not in a hopeful and kinder world I'm speaking of."

"But I can do what you said despite that."

"And the thing is, I can't," Erwin admits. "I couldn't live at the thought of subjecting both of us to that position."

You feel your cheeks numbing, every fluid inside you emptying as if something cracked underneath. 

"Do you understand? It's not just the things we can do, but also the things we can't at all."

"Are you not willing to try?"

"Dying would be way easier for me."

Oh.

Oh no.

When you’re not able to answer, his hands gently withdraw away from your cheeks—the simple touch, perhaps, was able to satiate the years-long yearning for him.

And most of all, he was able to register his point.

"Days after your arrival, I realized that our normalcy is now nothing but a foolish facade. It's been ruined since the day you came here,” he chugs the last bits of his drink before readying himself to go, "All I'm asking for is a favor. I don't want to spend the rest of our lives like this."

You had never thought how requited love could inflict greater pain than love unreturned. It’s not mere droplets that made the glass full this time, but rather a huge downpour that cracked it into pieces.

You could neither nod to agree nor glare in disdain. All you could do is grab your things and walk away from the scene even before he could witness the crying mess that you're about to be due to his words.

As Erwin watches you storm out, he clasps the hands that just touched your cheeks. Erwin hoped that alone—as your cheeks, scent, and your very presence were the most pleasant thing he had laid upon for years—he hoped that would suffice for him. After all, despite the shattering confrontation, he could confirm that the warmth he felt upon touching your cheeks just now was the same as the night he saw you sleeping on the office couch.