hey it's Giuls

"Oh, yes please!"

You pull it over your legs while Drake settles in. As always, on the opposite end of the couch.

Today's big lizard episode is about the Komodo dragon. Helmeppo's recommendation. After an introduction to its habitat and the presentation of a young male the narrator calls Steve, the documentary moves on to its most important segment. Reproduction.

"Steve has been putting in the work to court the female he's drawn to," the narrator says, "and strategically corners her in what he hopes will be their nest."

You take a chip, watching the female inspect said nest, give her approval, and settle in.

"She looks comfortable, and Steve will do whatever it takes to win her over. Here we see him bringing her food..."

Steve trots over with enthusiastic offerings, which she happily devours.

"He also sees to the upkeep of the nest (he brings more leaves) and makes sure his girl doesn't get cold."

You watch them curled up together on screen. Drake would normally throw in a comment or two. But right now he is silent as a corpse

"And now, the most delicate part. Steve licks her back, as we can see, making his intentions to mate quite clear."

The coach cushion moves as Drake shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Given his persistence, we can deduce it has been some time since he last mated with a female."

Drake takes off his glasses and pretends to clean them.

"A success. The female consents to copulation, which will last approximately ten minutes and which we will be presenting to you in full, without cuts, starting now"

You refuse to look at Drake, who seems to be holding the bridge of his nose together with two fingers, but from your corner of the couch you can feel the heat radiating from his increasingly blazing face.

Helmeppo. You are a dead man.

And exactly thirty days went by.

The documentary was one of those highly anticipated releases among science enthusiasts everywhere. Steven Spielberg, no less, directing it, with the world's top scientists advising every frame, all in pursuit of the hidden forces that sent that fateful meteorite crashing into Earth and taking the dinosaurs down with it. Streaming in one month from the moment you'd spoken.

Thirty days during which Drake got ready as if the documentary's worldwide success rested entirely on his shoulders.

At first, he didn't think much of it. He marked the day in his digital calendar, sure, but nothing more, convincing himself it wouldn't be all that different from when Helmeppo and the others came over for a gaming session. But as the days went by - days during which, as it happened, he never once ran into you by the coffee machine - stealthy little thoughts began creeping in: whether the color of his living room walls was warm enough; whether his sofa was comfortable and wide enough for two. He thought about the decor too. Too many paintings? Too few?

He eventually landed on putting out a little of everything, and reading the room when you arrived: sushi if the vibe called for it, a premium quality steak if not, or burgers with a vegan option just in case. And so, his fridge filled up with just-in-cases as the date drew closer.

And dinner…the documentary dropped at nine. Would you have eaten already? Probably not. It was on him, as the host, to sort out drinks and food . But what? Something that wouldn't make it look like you were having… a date? The mere thought made him flush. No. He didn't do dates. This was not a date by any stretch of the imagination. Beers, like when the others came over? But what if you didn't like beer? Popcorn? No, no, no... too date-y. Burgers, then. But what if you were vegetarian?

A couple of throw pillows he thought you might like started decorating the sofa three days out. A flower appeared on the coffee table, only to be removed five minutes later on the grounds of being inappropriate. And Drake checked, every day - sometimes every hour- that the HDMI cables running through his bass-heavy sound system were working, and that his streaming subscription was paid up, current, and ready to go.

Everything was in order, yes, he told himself as he rehearsed opening the door and stepping aside to let you in first. Again and again.

It was just a documentary. Of course it was just a documentary. One for which he had, admittedly, done considerable research, just in case he found the courage to casually drop some knowledge on you, given that he was, naturally, something of an expert on the subject.

So why all the fuss?

And then, as it turned out, the documentary was cancelled one day before its release. Regular subscribers barely noticed. Meteorite and dinosaur enthusiasts accepted their fate with resignation. Drake, however, was devastated.

And it wasn't until he was sitting on his sofa, new cushions and all, TV roaring to life through those freshly calibrated speakers, scrolling desperately through whatever was left to watch, and realizing that shows he would have laughed off on any other day suddenly seemed like a perfectly good idea if you were there with him, that it hit him.

He was in love with you.

Sadness filled that cream-walled living room that still smelled of fresh paint. His plan, cancelled. The chance to spend time alone with you, wiped clean off the map. And on top f that, it had been whole month without seeing you.

His insecurity crept in and whispered that maybe you'd never been interested in the documentary at all. That you'd only said yes to be polite. That deep down you probably thought he was a boring nerd. And who would want to be with a boring nerd? Koby and the others, sure, but girls.... romantically?

Drake let his broad back fall against the sofa cushions, cracking open one of the five different sodas he'd lined up for the occasion, when his phone rang with an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi."

Your voice, he realized, heart stupidly jumping.

"Hi," he croaked.

"Sorry for calling out of the blue. I-I asked the guys for your number. I hope that's okay. I kept meaning to catch you at work but every time I tried you looked really busy."

"Yes", was the only thing the dumbfounded man could manage.

"I, um... I don't know if you remember, hahahaa, but we had plans today to watch the Steven Spielberg documentary... "

"Huh?" Drake said, still unable to process the fact that you were calling him. Him.

"You don't remember?"

"No, I-I.." he rushed to correct himself. "Yes. Of course I remember."

"Well... I don't know if you've seen it, but it's been cancelled."

Your voice sounded like a melody from the other end of the line, and he furrowed his brow, trying to keep his grip on reality.

"I know, yeah, I saw."

"Well... I hope this isn't too bold of me, but I'm here right now, just outside that old video rental place on the corner, you know the one? The one that's closing in a few months, and I noticed they had Mysteries of the Solar System available to rent. I don't know if you've already seen it..."

Of course he'd seen it. Five or six times per episode, the last one seven times for being the most interesting.

"It's a pre-2006 series. The hypotheses are outdated. It still refers to Pluto as a planet," he flatly stated.

"Oh..." You sounded deflated. "Right, okay, sorry. It was a silly idea. Forgive me-"

"No, no, wait, I didn't mean-" He clapped a sweaty hand over the speaker, cursing himself and his monumental stupidity. "I'd love to watch it again."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well then... I'm a couple of streets away from your place. Is ten minutes enough time to get ready?"

Drake glanced around his immaculate living room and swallowed hard before answering.

"Yes. Ten minutes is plenty."

<3

And exactly thirty days went by.

The documentary was one of those highly anticipated releases among science enthusiasts everywhere. Steven Spielberg, no less, directing it, with the world's top scientists advising every frame, all in pursuit of the hidden forces that sent that fateful meteorite crashing into Earth and taking the dinosaurs down with it. Streaming in one month from the moment you'd spoken.

Thirty days during which Drake got ready as if the documentary's worldwide success rested entirely on his shoulders.

At first, he didn't think much of it. He marked the day in his digital calendar, sure, but nothing more, convincing himself it wouldn't be all that different from when Helmeppo and the others came over for a gaming session. But as the days went by - days during which, as it happened, he never once ran into you by the coffee machine - stealthy little thoughts began creeping in: whether the color of his living room walls was warm enough; whether his sofa was comfortable and wide enough for two. He thought about the decor too. Too many paintings? Too few?

He eventually landed on putting out a little of everything, and reading the room when you arrived: sushi if the vibe called for it, a premium quality steak if not, or burgers with a vegan option just in case. And so, his fridge filled up with just-in-cases as the date drew closer.

And dinner…the documentary dropped at nine. Would you have eaten already? Probably not. It was on him, as the host, to sort out drinks and food . But what? Something that wouldn't make it look like you were having… a date? The mere thought made him flush. No. He didn't do dates. This was not a date by any stretch of the imagination. Beers, like when the others came over? But what if you didn't like beer? Popcorn? No, no, no... too date-y. Burgers, then. But what if you were vegetarian?

A couple of throw pillows he thought you might like started decorating the sofa three days out. A flower appeared on the coffee table, only to be removed five minutes later on the grounds of being inappropriate. And Drake checked, every day - sometimes every hour- that the HDMI cables running through his bass-heavy sound system were working, and that his streaming subscription was paid up, current, and ready to go.

Everything was in order, yes, he told himself as he rehearsed opening the door and stepping aside to let you in first. Again and again.

It was just a documentary. Of course it was just a documentary. One for which he had, admittedly, done considerable research, just in case he found the courage to casually drop some knowledge on you, given that he was, naturally, something of an expert on the subject.

So why all the fuss?

And then, as it turned out, the documentary was cancelled one day before its release. Regular subscribers barely noticed. Meteorite and dinosaur enthusiasts accepted their fate with resignation. Drake, however, was devastated.

And it wasn't until he was sitting on his sofa, new cushions and all, TV roaring to life through those freshly calibrated speakers, scrolling desperately through whatever was left to watch, and realizing that shows he would have laughed off on any other day suddenly seemed like a perfectly good idea if you were there with him, that it hit him.

He was in love with you.

Sadness filled that cream-walled living room that still smelled of fresh paint. His plan, cancelled. The chance to spend time alone with you, wiped clean off the map. And on top f that, it had been whole month without seeing you.

His insecurity crept in and whispered that maybe you'd never been interested in the documentary at all. That you'd only said yes to be polite. That deep down you probably thought he was a boring nerd. And who would want to be with a boring nerd? Koby and the others, sure, but girls.... romantically?

Drake let his broad back fall against the sofa cushions, cracking open one of the five different sodas he'd lined up for the occasion, when his phone rang with an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi."

Your voice, he realized, heart stupidly jumping.

"Hi," he croaked.

"Sorry for calling out of the blue. I-I asked the guys for your number. I hope that's okay. I kept meaning to catch you at work but every time I tried you looked really busy."

"Yes", was the only thing the dumbfounded man could manage.

"I, um... I don't know if you remember, hahahaa, but we had plans today to watch the Steven Spielberg documentary... "

"Huh?" Drake said, still unable to process the fact that you were calling him. Him.

"You don't remember?"

"No, I-I.." he rushed to correct himself. "Yes. Of course I remember."

"Well... I don't know if you've seen it, but it's been cancelled."

Your voice sounded like a melody from the other end of the line, and he furrowed his brow, trying to keep his grip on reality.

"I know, yeah, I saw."

"Well... I hope this isn't too bold of me, but I'm here right now, just outside that old video rental place on the corner, you know the one? The one that's closing in a few months, and I noticed they had Mysteries of the Solar System available to rent. I don't know if you've already seen it..."

Of course he'd seen it. Five or six times per episode, the last one seven times for being the most interesting.

"It's a pre-2006 series. The hypotheses are outdated. It still refers to Pluto as a planet," he flatly stated.

"Oh..." You sounded deflated. "Right, okay, sorry. It was a silly idea. Forgive me-"

"No, no, wait, I didn't mean-" He clapped a sweaty hand over the speaker, cursing himself and his monumental stupidity. "I'd love to watch it again."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well then... I'm a couple of streets away from your place. Is ten minutes enough time to get ready?"

Drake glanced around his immaculate living room and swallowed hard before answering.

"Yes. Ten minutes is plenty."

<3