a chopped eating server

A flutter stirred in Sunday's chest, so different from just a few minutes ago, where it evoked a fusion of mild dread and intense irritation. 

Or perhaps it could be because there were only two of them. 

Or maybe because Aventurine was staring a little too intensely into Sunday. 

Like, it was not the kind of stare where Sunday felt awfully undressed. But it was closer to the psychological experience of being a tiny specimen under a microscope, watched carefully by a mad scientist. 

Anyways.

"There are a few things that I would disclose with you right now," Sunday started. Simple, and direct. Nothing too suspicious. "I'm well-aware that this party means to celebrate and have some fun. And I truly hope that you will welcome my idea with open arms. Because I'm approaching you with a business intention."

"Oh, sucks," Aventurine murmured under his breath lightly, but loud enough for Sunday's ears to pick it up. "Here I thought I might get asked out tonight."

Well, if Sunday were to take an honest pill earlier - he would confirm his own agenda on the spot. But he was a man on a mission - an important mission. So some calculative scheming needed to be done.

"It was more about this writing project that I'm starting soon," Sunday lied. His eyes focused on the moon above them, an okayish attempt to hide any signs of a liar in a fake conversation. 

"What is it about? Is it about some dating game?" Aventurine guessed. "It is quite trendy nowadays."

Now. 

To prevent his light surprise from making itself apparent on his face, Sunday assumed that Aventurine's eagerness to know came from an instinct of an investor. After all, they needed to know the answer to everything for a better calculation. But Sunday was no client, but a stranger. 

Unless Aventurine successfully managed to piece Sunday's real intention together, which was impossible. Sunday liked to believe he hid it well.

Sunday paused, before continuing on with another lie: "It's a project in empowering interns, more specifically for interns interested in joining the IPC. It would be great to cover the working culture and standards."

Confusion squeezed Aventurine into slits. "We have interns?"

"Yes. IPC joined the government initiative in combating the rapid unemployment through internship and trainee programmes. They even funded it too. So I thought in relevance to that, it would be a marvelous idea if I were to write a guideline on that. It would be beneficial for all parties."

The lie wasn't that far off. This part of the lie was all over the news recently.

Aventurine shook his head, miming disbelief. "I'm going to be honest with you, angel. You didn't really seem like the humanitarian type."

"What in the world could that possibly imply?" The confidence that possessed Sunday earlier was now seized with the same irritation.

"Hey, hey," Aventurine raised both of his hands in defense. "Well. I thought that your interests would incline more towards stuff like education and literature. Your writing project was my second guess. The intern part, I mean."

In other words, a nerd. A label that Sunday was familiar when he was attending private school for nobles.

"In relevance to that," Sunday chose to dismiss whatever Aventurine had hinted at. "It would be lovely if you could give me names of people that you think would be a fit for the job."

Sunday actually felt like a genius. If he were to manage to get a list of candidates from Aventurine’s hands, he gets to select his own fake boyfriend. Not only does he get to minimize the risks, but he can now control the outcome.

The corners of Aventurine's lips lifted in a natural form of genuine happiness. "Today's your lucky day."

Yes! Sunday cheered silently. 

Perhaps this writing project would come smoother for him. Now the whole breakup after 10 days didn't sound too intimidating.

Sunday watched Aventurine fishing out his wallet from the inside of his sloppily worn blazer. He unfolded the wallet by opening the clasp, before pulling out a paper. In between his fingers, a business card was pressed in between.

Aventurine gestured Sunday to take it with a tilt of his head.

With both hands, Sunday gladly took it. Shortly after, he flipped it around and - 

The hell. Why was this guy giving Sunday his business card?

"That's very thoughtful of you." The best Sunday could do was express appreciation at the gesture. "Just to clear any misunderstanding here. Are you handing this card to me to contact you personally on the writing project?"

"Yes."

This guy wasn't as useless as Sunday assumed earlier. "Words cannot express how thankful I am for this. Now catching up with the deadline sounds like an easy task for me, thanks to you.”

Sunday inspected the details of the business card. It had Aventurine’s name on it, with his work email and phone number. Even if Sunday were to squint his eyes, the golden, IPC-shaped logo at the corner of the business card would still shine bright enough to fill in his vision.

“Actually, now we are on the subject. I also might need your help with deciding the candidates later for an interview,” Sunday continued, as he tucked the business card in the pocket of his jacket. "Would you prefer to be contacted through email or text?"

"Candidates?" Aventurine repeated. "Angel, I'm your candidate."

"My candidate?"

Aventurine raised both of his eyebrows in playful mockery. "My ears are telling me that the music from inside isn't that loud enough for you to not hear what I said."

Afraid of his own death that was prophesied on the angry glint in Sunday's eyes, Aventurine opened his arms. "Everyone said that I'm really good at interviews. I'm not going to disappoint you. But I can't promise that I won't annoy you, though."

Him? As the candidate?

What.

That just meant that Sunday had to date him for this writing project. 

No!

But this guy just offered himself up as the candidate. And Sunday had little-to-no romantic charisma. So if Sunday were to turn down this offer, then he would be bare-handed for the night. And for Aeons know how many weeks.

But if he were to accept this, then he can start on the project as soon as tomorrow. 

However, Sunday wasn't sure if he was mentally ready to fake a dating relationship with someone like Aventurine. 

Sunday's silence was slowly scaring the poor senior manager. To snap out of it, Aventurine asked, worry etched on his face: "Uh, Sunday? Did my business card spook the colours out of you? Or was it my offer?"

"No," came Sunday's answer automatically. "I'm just. Thinking. About it."

"You don't need that much thinking when you're around me."

"That's not what I mean," Sunday chimed in. "I just was hoping for... a list... of candidates."

Aventurine snorted, setting Sunday's heart in vengeful flames. "Me alone is a handful to handle. I'm sure that my personalities will be enough to fill any gap in the list that you have right now. I'm confident about it."

"But I need variations in answer."

Aventurine's eyes brightened. "Haha! And guess what? I'm good at lying."

Sunday looked around, ensuring that he wasn't being pulled into a prank episode by some show. 

This guy was stupidly resilient. Trying to push him away was almost similar to the act of pulling one's hair in a bag of flour. Just useless labour with no beneficial results.

And yes, Sunday can agree that Aventurine had a charming personality. If Sunday was actively looking for a spouse, he would fall straight for Aventurine. But Sunday was too stressed to have one. So all of his charms were having the opposite effects on Sunday. 

Oh. This part especially. Aventurine liked to take the stupidest risks. Sunday could have been a police officer in disguise of a helpless writer, with the mission of catching tax evaders and scammers-investors. And if the scenario was true, Aventurine was putting his own head on the chopping board. Voluntarily too.

Sunday went silent for a while. 

Well, Aventurine did meet all of his requirements in a fake boyfriend.

But Sunday just wasn't that sure if Aventurine were the type to keep a relationship for 10 days.

Oh, whatever. No senior-ranked members from the IPC had basic romantic empathy anyways, according to Dan Heng. So Sunday should just seize this whole opportunity. If Aventurine were to ditch him before the tenth day mark, Sunday could try to join Stelle’s weekly speed dating game.

"Now, let's stop the wheels in your head from grinding too much," Aventurine continued with a huff, and he slid his wallet back into his pocket. "How about this? You meet me again tomorrow.”

"You didn't even ask me if I was busy tomorrow."

Aventurine shrugged. "I will find a way. Now you're distracting me," he accused. Using his hands to list, he continued: "Weear a comfortable, light fit. Preferably sneakers, or a sports cap."

"Where are we going?" there was a layer of concern in Sunday's voice. "I hope not to see myself hiking tomorrow. I would never let you see me again."

"Nope. No hiking, but I can't tell you. No fun guessing now. The surprise's tomorrow," and there was no way that Sunday could muster out an answer from a resilient, mysterious man. "Come and follow me. I need to show you something."

With no questions asked, Sunday followed him. The gap in between them was closed, as they found themselves walking side by side. The pace was relaxed and slow, almost on the same rhythm as the wind blowing in their face. 

The coldness of the night penetrated through the layers of Sunday's clothes, causing him to shiver a bit in reflex.

From the corner of Sunday's eyes, he saw Aventurine shrugging off the blazer from his shoulder. 

Carefully, he placed it on Sunday. Even when Sunday denied it with a small shake of his hands, Aventurine continued adjusting the heavy, black blazer on Sunday.

"Where do you live?" Aventurine asked, his voice lower. 

Now, if Aventurine was a killer - Sunday would have been dead by now. Because Sunday easily gave away his home address to this blonde-haired man.

And Sunday had no clue why he even did that. Perhaps Sunday found himself captivated by the way the lights from the street lamp fell on the bones of Aventurine's face, thus presenting a more matured appearance that was lost in his annoying personality earlier. 

Or maybe Aventurine spiked a romantic magic in this blazer. Because for the second time that night, Sunday really found him handsome. 

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air. Sunday watched Aventurine's fingers glid across the screen of his phone easily. It was hard to see what was he typing, especially when his phone was tinted with privacy screen. 

The sound of leaves being crunched under car wheels caused Sunday to look up. A fancy, black car parked in front of them. The paint was shiny and well-maintained. Even when one wasn't up to date with car models, it was easy to guess that this costed millions. The driver rolled down the window. "Time to go home?"

Sunday looked around, wondering who could this person be talking to. 

But Aventurine flashed the driver a smile. It lacked a message, making it hard for Sunday to decipher it. But there was a sense of familarity in the shape of his smile, suggesting that the two were well-acquainted.

What Aventurine did next was opening the car door, hinting Sunday to enter. 

Sunday guessed that Aventurine's warm gesture in offering his blazer had melted Sunday’s icy viewpoint on Aventurine’s overall character, to the point that Sunday blindly entered without asking him why. Probably the first that night. 

While lowering himself down to fit Sunday's perspective through the window car, Aventurine reminded him again: "Tomorrow. Light and casual attire. And I want to see you outside your house by around one thirty."

So, it wasn't hiking. Sunday was slightly relieved. Nobody hiked when the sunlight could burn holes on your back. 

"Alright. Anything else I need to remember?"

Aventurine responded with an 'oh' before looking outside of the car. "Yeah. Before you get home, make sure to remember the plate license. Because you will be seeing this car again tomorrow."

"What does that even mean?"

And Sunday's question was answered with the car door being slammed. 

The driver looked at how Sunday's face paled in horror when the car door locked. Before Sunday could lunge forward to the driver seat, they calmly reassured: "Mr. Aventurine's orders."

Sunday scooted closer to the other side, getting his head out of the window to get a better contact with Aventurine. "You!"

"Oh, don't worry about it. If they take a different route, that's probably to avoid the traffic jam."

"Of course! You think of me as an idiot? I drove before!"

The car moved slowly. 

"Then, I don't know why you're mad at me."

Aventurine followed the pace of the slow car. 

If the gap in between them was closer, Sunday would have pulled him from the collar of his shirt to show him what outcomes one must pay for ticking him off.

Especially during a Friday night, where he could have been spending it by sleeping at his apartment until the evening tomorrow. But no, he had to attend this event for the sake of his writing project! Or else his dad would have called his job a waste of his remaining youth! And Aventurine just had to add the spoiled cherry on top by doing a kidnapping attempt on him!

"You are kidnapping me!" Sunday yelled. At this point, Sunday could not care less. 

Aventurine rolled his lips, whistling. "If that is how you pronounce 'sending a handsome man home' nowadays, then you know what? Sure. I'm open to it."

Both of them were having a yelling fit. If you weren't familiar with them, you would have assumed that this was another domestic dispute between a married couple. But the funny part was that they hardly knew each other.

Actually - judging by Sunday's boiling anger, they will know each other soon. The only uncertain part was whether they will recognize each other lovers or enemies.

"Good night, angel," said Aventurine, after blowing him a dramatic kiss. "Say it back!"

Sunday leaned into the seat, as he stared at the back of the driver's chair blankly. Whatever he was feeling, it was beyond disbelief.

Perhaps his gut feeling was right. Dan Heng was setting up a trap by suggesting this event, and Sunday fell right into it. And this trap? It had a six-number password that was impossible to crack. So it will stay attached to Sunday for a while. And that six-number trap was no other than Aventurine itself. 

Tired of this ongoing fight and how this car just won't budge, Sunday looked at the driver. Boredom brimmed in his eyes, he asked flatly: "Are you only sending me home if I say it?"

The driver casually responded with: "Yes. Because I need this full payment for my trip to Xianzhou Luofu next week."

To make sure that Sunday went home safely and this.. driver to get their full payment for their trip to Xianzhou Luofu next week - Sunday just decided to swallow his ego. Now returning back to Aventurine's viewpoint, Sunday said: "Goodnight."

And at the same time, the lorry passing by just had to let out the loudest honk. 

"What?"

Sunday mentally rolled his eyes. Curving his hand around his mouth, Sunday yelled: "I said goodnight!"

Almost as if Sunday was Cinderella casting a magical spell of speed on her pumpkin carriage, the car immediately sped forward.

The wind from the speeding slapped him on the face, urging the driver to close the window. 

Trying to get rid of the dust that entered his eyes, Sunday searched for his handkerchief. Only to realize that he was still wearing Aventurine's blazer. 

Sunday leaned slightly forward, while his hands were busy removing the blazer. "I'm sorry for bothering you once again tonight with all these demands. But do you mind handing over the blazer to Mr. Aventurine tomorrow?”

"Apologies, but that would not be within my jobscope, Mr. Sunday."

Seeing the slight confusion in the way Sunday raised his brows, the driver explained: "It's best to hand it over to him tomorrow. Personally."

That man. He really did find a way to clear Sunday's schedule no matter what.

You know what? Since he wanted to get under Sunday's skin so much, Sunday might as well made him his new test subject.

That would be Aventurine's punishment for ruffling his feathers for two hours straight. 

"What? That sounds crazy," Topaz started it off, her eyes widened at the bizarre statement that came out of Aventurine's mouth. 

Topaz popped the olive into her mouth, before continuing on: "You know. This whole charismatic guy thing. Ugh. If I had such powers, I would have gotten that promotion a long time ago. But I did such a poor job negotiating with Ms. Bronya that it completely ruined my chance of a promotion."

"Well, to start off. You're pretty," Aventurine said, twirling the champagne in the glass lightly. "But you need to just. Have this mentality that things are going to work out for you. And just like that, that promotion is yours."

But Topaz didn't take that well. It appeared that Aventurine's bloated sense of superiority was getting to Topaz.

She just faked a chorus of laughter, and then she went: "So funny. You need to shut up now before I blast your head off."

"What?" Aventurine was taken aback at the threat. "I'm a charismatic man, that's all."

Topaz wiggled her finger, signaling disagreement. "No, no. Not charismatic. But luck. You have good luck."

"Clearly not. I have my bad days and-"

"They are nowhere as bad as mine," Topaz denied Aventurine's statement almost immediately. A bit crazy if Topaz were to know Aventurine's real backstory with no sweetened version in between, but he believed it was best to save it for another more serious conversation.

Aventurine glanced up from his drink. There were more he would like to say, but the sentences fizzled out from his mind. 

"Sugilite is a charismatic guy. I don't see you being that angry at him."

Topaz chewed through her second olive, humming in between to keep the conversation silent-free. "He's charismatic. But he doesn't have the best of luck. Have you ever heard of his love life? Ugh, a nightmare. Perhaps it sounded like a good melody if you love drama and being splashed water in the face. But it doesn't sound nice when you are a normal person, you know?"

"Aww, so sweet of you Topaz. To think of me as a normal person," Aventurine cooed sarcastically. "Most people I know wouldn't agree with you. Most people we know wouldn't agree with what you're saying right now." 

"You would agree with me."

Aventurine let out a baffled laugh, urging Topaz to correct her sentence by secretly raising his eyebrows. So Topaz did what was asked. "You would agree with me on the luck thing."

"What are you trying to say here, Topaz?"

"7 days."

Before Aventurine could follow up with another question, Topaz cut it to the chase. "7 days. Make a guy fall in love with you in 7 days."

"For whatever reason there is?"

For the first time that night, Topaz smiled. "I read this article from Sparxie. She started off this writing blog to criticize the boring content coming out of Astral Express for 'ragebaiting' purposes. But then, they weren't her only popular works. She said that the IPC, especially anyone above the manager - couldn't keep a relationship for 7 days. And the whole Internet was loving this, really. And they did this whole research. And guess what, not many of us couldn't do that."

"Did Sugilite become the face of this whole controversy?"

Topaz paused for a while, then breathed out. "Well, no. It was better that way. You know how he acted with fame. It's gross. Or weird. It's hard to guess with him. Anyways. These olives are so good."

She turned around to one of the servers, tapping on the bowl and mouthed for a refill. So she continued, "But with a stroke of luck. Perhaps, the IPC senior-ranked members could prove the speculation wrong. What do you think? You're up for some challenge?"

There was this incomprehensible expression shaping Aventurine's face, which Topaz hoped could be a positive answer.

"You're so sick in the head, Topaz," Aventurine started off, as her heart squeezed in embarrassment. But Mr. Aventurine had more to say. "You know I love a good challenge."

Both of them harmonized in a roar of laughter that was a bit louder than expected because the people in front of them turned around to give this well-known, universal corporate, disapproving look. 

In a quieter voice, Aventurine continued: "You know what? I might just do it tonight."

A disbelief gasp came out of Topaz's mouth. "Tonight? You're a crazy man."

"Make it easy for me. You pick the man," Aventurine just won't back down.

And he didn't even know why he was so thrilled to beat this random person Sparxie's assumption. 

Mind you, Topaz could be lying to him right now about some troll account named Sparxie who had no fear of legal consequences and for that, she decided to write a piece where she criticized the IPC's incapability to keep a partner for more than a week. But as long as the relationship could last longer than whatever Topaz had, Aventurine knew he was winning instantly.

Topaz was excited. Obviously, she didn't want to pick the too loud-mouthed ones, or the naive-minded ones. That would really weigh Topaz's heart with guilt if she realized that she ruined an innocent person's perception of love.

So she thought: a man who was really out of Aventurine's league. Someone with the craziest allure straight from heaven, and with a more elegant and refined aura. And he had to have these ridiculously high standards, which was reflected from the way he talked to the way he dressed. She initially planned to pick someone from their office, but where's the fun in that?

Moreover, the Astral Express wouldn't really care if someone from the IPC asked one of their employees out. 

Silly her. She already knew who it would be!

"Sunday Oak," Topaz suggested. She pointed in the direction of the man with her glass. "That one, over there."

"Picking the most virgin-looking one makes me think that you might not be the nicest colleague-friend I have."

Topaz had her own agenda. And she didn't want to go against Aventurine's expectations about her. They really were good friends in the office, and it was hard to have that in this company. So Topaz immediately justified her reason:

"Sunday Oak is the most mysterious man from Astral Express. Rumors said that he started working with them around three months ago. But there was not really much to know about him. Like: for Stelle and Caelus, they were meme machines. While for Dan Heng, he was really good about self-care and meditation. Then March 7th with her fantastic travels all around the world. But Sunday? We don't know much about him."

"That sounds really stupid of Astral Express to keep a slacker," Aventurine criticized harshly.

Topaz patted on his shoulder, as if to punish him for cutting her off. "No. He did write a few. Didn't do good. Boring. But he was more well-respected for his PR and management skills. But again, wouldn't you say it's a mystery? The rule to enter the Astral Express is to have a unique story. And he has none."

"PR and management skill is a unique story and talent by itself."

"No. That's not the thing here. What I'm trying to say is, there must be something that Akivili sees in him that makes them go. Yes! This man has potential. Come and join our crazily exclusive family company. But none of us could figure out the reason. We only heard rumors that he came from this really rich family. But then he left them for one night."

"Truly a mystery. No rich kid would settle for such a boring job."

Another slap on the shoulder. "Shh! You're forgetting we are hosting a party to honor them."

"My bad," Aventurine nodded. "Well. I'm going to go straight for it. Wish me luck."

"No thanks, you got a lot of those already."

But Topaz's complaints fell to deaf ears, as Aventurine marched his way to the cute man standing alone with the champagne glass in his hand. 

A server lowered himself to Topaz, almost apologetically. "Sorry, ma'am. But we are already out of olives for now. Is there any other snack or appetizer that you would like me to serve for you?"

As always, the party was all glamour. And the luxury that they decorated each detail in the room was not the wealth that the majority of society have access to. 

Well, not much of a shocker - given that their salary alone could feed a town.

Honestly, Sunday loathed rich people. If he were not so much of a coward, he would have written an article criticizing the rich for hoarding all the money in the world, with minimal consequences for their actions like evading taxes. But yeah - Sunday was a bit of a coward, who didn't want to become the recipient of Pompom's anger. So he will just suck it up. And it was ironic too, since Sunday was born into wealth. 

Before Sunday knew it, Dan Heng had already left him behind. 

Not that Sunday could blame Dan Heng. Most of the people in the Astral Express assumed that Sunday was well-acquainted with the rich given his background, but in reality - when he was stripped of all the glitz and glamour of the Oak family, he wasn't really fond of talking to them. 

They were too self-absorbed and selfish, and can sometimes be insensitive to people from the lower hierarchy. Not Sunday's type. 

Well, whatever. Sunday could survive fine on his own. He picked up a champagne glass by the stem to keep his hand busy, before observing the scene before him.

If he had to choose a man to write about, he had to have a resilient and charming personality with a natural instinct of a risk taker. The kind who enjoyed the thrill of push-and-pull, but also wasn't that intrigued by longevity in something as simple as dating for the long-term.

For some reason, Sugilite came to mind. 

Sunday shivered.

Now, let us add more into the details.

Someone who wouldn't be that vengeful if Sunday was the person who initiated the breakup in case he wanted the hookup to last for more than 10 days. Sugilite didn't seem to be the type to be resentful if he found out that Sunday wasn't interested in a long-term relationship. But he did look like the type to hunt down Sunday if he ever found that he became a tool for Sunday's experiment. It sounded humiliating alone. 

Honestly, Sunday could have lied. But he hated lying. So that was why he was stuck in this painful dilemma that he cast upon himself.

As he was zoning out, completely melted in his thoughts - a sultry voice of a dangerous stranger pulled him out of the trance.

"And who might you be?"

Sunday whirled his head towards the source of the interesting noise, looking at the stranger over his shoulder. 

He was, what one could say, the perfect representation of the IPC: dangerously handsome, well-sculptured face and a lethal smile hanging from the corners of his lips almost naturally. His blonde hair was styled messily, but somewhat strategically. Perhaps some sort of a trend that Sunday didn't catch up on. Well, his eyes. His multi-coloured eyes were certainly very captivating, almost reminding him of a spark of light from a mirror. 

Could he be? 

Sunday didn't want to make any bad guesses.

Speechlessness numbed Sunday's tongue. But he had to say something. So he went ahead and continued with: "I wouldn't consider myself new."

"I haven't seen you before though. Haven't seen you enough," the man commented, lifting the glass close to his mouth. "Especially such a handsome man like you. Not easy to forget."

Alright, he was handsome and flirty. Not Sunday's type. Indulging in the drama and danger was the least of Sunday's favorites.

The mysterious man took advantage of Sunday's timid silence to introduce himself. He reached out for Sunday's hand, then pressed the gloved knuckles on his lips. Noticeably soft. It must be nice to kiss him. 

"The name's Aventurine. Senior manager from the strategic investment department," he said, too seductively. "And yours?"

"My name is Sunday Oak. It's a pleasure to meet you," Then there was a short huff after the introduction. "Mr. Aventurine."

"Drop all the formalities, angel. Aventurine works fine," he shrugged his shoulders with an amused chuckle. 

Sunday took note of the Aventurine's preference at first with the intention of respect. 

But then heat radiated from his own cheeks when he realized that this man casually just gave him a nickname. And the worst part is, Sunday couldn't even tell if the nickname came from a place of malice or not. 

Sunday continued, a small hesitance hanging on the edge of his voice: "I would prefer you to call me by my name, Sunday."

"Why not? Are you not the fun type?"

Sunday could hardly suppress his gasp at the sudden accusation of his character. "I’m a lot of fun."

"Really?" Aventurine raised both of his eyebrows in surprise. Perhaps Aventurine didn't guess that Sunday wouldn't bite back, since Sunday appeared so sheepish. 

Then Sunday picked up this small snicker coming out of Aventurine, almost as if curiosity tickled him to speak some more. 

"What?" Sunday asked him, there was a pinch of irritation that suppressed him from cursing the young man. "What's humorous about this?"

"Nothing funny," Aventurine answered, before a few more snorts coming out of him. "I just didn’t think that such a nickname could rile you up so easily."

While Sunday initially assumed that Aventurine was playing some sort of game, he planned on brushing this odd man off. 

But then it finally registered to him that Sunday was talking to one of the most high-ranked employees in the strategic investment department. He could have a major involvement in the overall business, especially given the professional relationship that both the IPC and Astral Express shared.

Oops. Did Sunday just make such a poor impression on this man?

Now Sunday felt just embarrassing. 

But perhaps he shouldn't be too himself around his company stakeholders. Too many risks. 

He decided to embrace himself a little more and let go of this serious character that he presented to.. Mr. Aventurine.

"I apologize for upsetting you, really," The sudden switch up Sunday's voice tone had caused a confusing frown to wrinkle the center in between Aventurine's brows. "I thought - honestly. I didn't know what I was thinking of speaking to you so disrespectfully. If you would be so kind, do you mind if we start all over again? I promise, I'm not this - moody person. Really."

"Well, the problem is. I like this moody character, so let's continue."

While Sunday was trying to ventilate his rising anger earlier from the awkward dispute they shared - Aventurine just decided to stir more flames to it. 

Aventurine leaned a bit forward to Sunday. "Why? What happened to the moody man I met earlier?"

"I don't find that humorous at all, really. I told you, I’m not a moody person. It’s not who I am," Sunday gave up on trying to save face.

Hints of amusement glazed over Aventurine's face. It appeared that Aventurine didn't seem to agree with Sunday on that part. 

When Sunday attempted to part ways with this physical embodiment of a nuisance, a shove had caused Sunday to trip forward.

Sunday's clumsy foot had caused him to fall dramatically into Aventurine's arms, who naturally spread them open for the man to fall in. 

Glasses of champagne fell across the floor, with splashes of the liquid preserving the reflection of the shock-faced of Sunday and Aventurine. 

Endless apologies were pronounced from the server's mouth, muffled by her nervous breath. Fear paled the woman's face, an expression that Sunday was too familiar with. Who wouldn't be? You accidentally dropped drinks on one of the most well-respected senior managers of the department from IPC. 

With a nod of his head, Aventurine reassured the woman that he was all good. 

Aventurine's hands were firmly pressed on Sunday's arm, keeping him stable on his feet. While Sunday was pressing his body against Aventurine - the close proximity made him realize that Aventurine's smaller frame might hide something much stronger. Well-toned. But not too jacked.

The blond-haired man's breath was fanning on the curve of Sunday's ears, making him feel all hot in the chest. 

All these not-so-discreet details of Aventurine's physical appearance, was slowly morphing Sunday's perception of the man. In a bad way, of course. 

And the cherry on top, Aventurine just had to say:

"All good, angel?" Aventurine looked down on Sunday through the gaps of his lashes, a small glimpse of concern flashed on his eyes. He was really handsome, just annoying. 

Sunday blinked a few times, almost as if he was trying to snap back into reality. The tip of his shoes searched for the solid floor, before he finally stood on his whole two feet. 

"There we go," Aventurine observed Sunday's physical state, ensuring that his clothes were clear from dirt and liquid. "Hopefully nothing splashed on you. I would shed tears just to scrub it off." 

The icy tension that descended down them was melted - or broken down by the champagne glasses earlier. Or perhaps melted down was the perfect word, since the heat from the sudden embrace helped to soothe the tension. 

"No. I'm all good. I'm just worried that the server might get into trouble, that's all," Sunday explained. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the woman mopped the floor nervously. "And you?"

"First of all, a beautiful angel with a moody temper just fell into my arms. What do you think?" 

Sunday's mouth thinned at the comment. This man just really wouldn't let go of this, huh?

An invincible light bulb popped up on top of Sunday's head. But it came with the cost of a flush crept up on his neck. 

"I have a question," Sunday started off. "But this question requires us to talk about it outside."

Before Aventurine could even add on more of his unsolicited opinions, Sunday was already walking to the direction of the door leading to the balcony.

That left Aventurine with the choice to tap on Topaz's shoulder. And when Topaz turned out to see Aventurine, she was greeted with a cheeky wink.

The black text from the bright screen of his computer looked back at him, almost mockingly.

'How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days.'

Well, if Sunday were to be equipped with a load of charisma and a touch of a romantic spirit - such a task wouldn't be so difficult for him. 

Some of Sunday's problems were:

Sunday really sucked at casual conversations with strangers. Professional? Sure. Not a problem. But casual? Ugh. He liked to think that most people would not entertain a chat, especially by a stranger. He could also risk talking to some crazed man who lost his final straw at a small conversation.

For once in a while, Sunday regretted never joining Stelle's romantic adventures. Perhaps he could try getting someone from her circle as his experiment. But again, he felt bad being the one initiating it. 

Sunday just hated the whole fake dating thing.

But hey, on a mildly good side of it:

Sunday was a very attractive man who could get anyone wrapped around his finger (source: March 7th and Stelle).

In what part of his job required him to fake a date?

Well, the story went: March 7th and Stelle believed that authenticity was one of the key ingredients in articles. You could make research on it, sure - but then it would have been an educational piece rather than a relatable content. So, Stelle suggested he fake a date to get the best experience.

Other than that, Sunday needed to prove to his dad that this was what he wanted.  And of course, to convince someone that this was truly what you wanted, you had to bring up some good points. Like - high salary, big fame. 

But so far during his three months under Astral Express, Sunday has not done anything remarkable. 

Honestly, Sunday also didn't really understand why he was stressed out about the situation.

He could just step away from the project and return back to his niche interests, which he was well-known for back then when writing was just a side income for him. 

The sudden change of plans in his own writing project wouldn't affect him in a way.  He would be happy, and sleep well knowing that he wouldn't have a crazy ex-boyfriend who was waiting for the perfect moment to strike in revenge for dating him in 10 days.

But then he would risk being called a sore loser for the rest of the year by Stelle. 

He really needed to break out of the writer's slump. 

The creative stagnation  was not only slowly killing his productivity, but it could potentially decay his own relevance. This job was the only job that he really liked - he wasn't that interested in exploring any other options out there.

Sunday's stress had gradually reached Dan Heng's nose. The man turned around in his seat, observed the screen and nodded - because he finally understood the primary source of Sunday's distress.

"Hey, are you free tonight?" Dan Heng asked Sunday, as the younger man flinched at the sudden comment. "Don't worry. I'm not volunteering to be the experiment to your writing project, if that's what you're wondering about."

"Uh," Sunday hesitated for a while, before his hand fished out for his phone in his bag. He started searching for the calendar app, scrolled down far enough to conclude that he had an answer for the question. "First off, that's reassuring to hear. And second, anything that requires my attention tonight?"

"Well," he started off the conversation. "I saw you were struggling really bad earlier. And I know you won't be dropping the project anytime soon because you know Stelle wouldn't live it down. So here, I have a suggestion."

Almost as if the angel descended from heaven itself, Dan Heng finally came to the rescue.

Sunday watched Dan Heng type down a few letters on his phone, before flipping them around to show the details to Sunday. "The IPC invited The Astral Express for a celebratory dinner. It was about the same collaborative project we completed a few weeks ago. The one disaster in Amphoreus."

"I was informed previously that we already hit the number of sales and engagement set by the IPC. Why the second celebration?"

Dan Heng sucked his breath through clenched teeth. "Yeah. Apparently, Lady Bonajade felt that the first celebration was underwhelming. So she thought that it would be nice to have another. But it was more of a personal choice rather than a corporate courtesy. So you get to wind down and have fun."

"I see," Sunday replied, voice tone sounding careful. But then it slowly dawned on him. "So, what are you implying here is that I should get an IPC member as my experiment pig for the writing project?"

"Yes. You got it right."

If this recommendation was from Stelle, then Sunday would have assumed that the woman was planning to set him up as the clown of the party.

But this was Dan Heng - and he wasn't that interested in such tomfoolery. But Dan Heng was their friend: his tolerance to their pranks was likely a hidden sign that he was somewhat supportive of their mischief.

Watching how Sunday fell silent, Dan Heng felt the compulsion to follow up the recommendation with a justification. "It's a part of their culture to only date people for like a week, then ditch them for someone new. They're busy people who travel a lot, work a lot, so the lack of commitment is almost expected. Moreover, they like a little bit of fame. Being featured in your article piece would be an honor to them. And their dating preferences make them a good fit."

"Honor?"

"Think about like," Dan Heng snapped his fingers to the same beat of the clock ticking behind them. Or the bomb in Sunday's chest. "Like, uh. A free shoutout. Looks good if you're a popular person."

"But the article is about how to lose him. Not keep him. It wouldn't look great on his behalf."

"That's the magic of being a writer," Dan Heng shrugged his shoulders, before turning his chair around to resume his work. "You need to find a way to make him look good and make it appealing enough for people to get hooked on."

Sunday believed that the right approach to such absurd ideas was to dismiss them. He experienced it frequently during his time working here. 

See, Dan Heng's idea wasn't so bad. In fact, he had a really good point. But what if Sunday accidentally messed around with a bloodthirsty one who would make sure that Sunday suffered the consequences of his actions? Sunday shivered at the thought of his reputation being put at risk just for a dumb project.

It was fine. Sometimes, Sunday didn't need to be a part of the process. He will just ask Stelle to become the narrator of his story. He can afford to buy her lunch for six months straight. And he could afford to skip a sweet treat after a good meal outside. 

He refused to put his own reputation on the chopping board for some project that he accepted.

Although the project would do crazy numbers, and would do an amazing push to his writing career - Sunday just refused to do it. He didn't have the guts! But he was a man born with great strategical intellect. He can find other solutions to the problem. 

As Sunday looked through scandalous stories online to spike inspiration, his ears picked up Dan Heng's fingers tapping on his table. A key was tossed, as the metal touched the tip of his pink nail.

"We are going to the party. You drive."

Before Sunday could even turn down Dan Heng's invitation, the man was already looming over him creepily. Staring at him intensely through the gaps of his long lashes. Almost as if Dan Heng would devour him alive if Sunday shied away from his harmless request. 

the argument dissolved into sloppy makeouts, then it transitioned into something much steamier, hotter — and what filled sunday's narrow vision that night was reca, the passion of his love merged with his demanding appetite for something rawer from sunday. 

  so here was sunday, completely stirred from sleep. his clothes were all on the ground, and his pale skin was ornamented with the evidence of yesterday. sunday's head turned to his side, observing the sleeping figure next to him. his back moved according to the rhythm of his breath: steady and deep. 

  sunday reached out to the bathroom and proceeded with his shower at a lagged pace. he washed off the residual sweat from his face, then the trickles of the water droplets dropped onto his skin, before completely drenching him in the shower. once he was done, he continued with a full-body care: from the highest point of his head to the bottom of his feet, his body was covered with different products to keep him feeling clean and fresh throughout the day. 

  once he was satisfied with his appearance, he clothed himself with fashion appropriate for the cold weather ahead. pats of his slippers on the floor had woken up reca, but the man remained on his bed with his eyes closed, as he tried to bask in the last moment of comfort before he could hear that teeny tiny prologue of an upcoming lecture: 

  "reca, shouldn't you be awake from now?"

  yeah. that was it. 

  what sunday received in response was a mutter muffled by the pillow.

  there was a slight dip near the spot reca was laying, caused by the weight of sunday sitting. reca immediately adjusted his position to lying on his back, in hopes to tempt the man into a small cuddling session. but he was pleasantly surprised to see his partner has already been dressed for the day, marching to aeons know where.

  "where are you going all dolled-up like this?" reca asked, his low voice thickened by sleepiness. he later raised both of his hands and with an eye closed, he created the image of a frame using his fingers. "stay still, angel. i need this preserved in my memory for my next movie."  

  sunday's relaxed face contorted into a small disgust, signalling that he didn't think reca's method was anything pleasant. well, it was mainly because: "i'm truly flattered. but not when robin is always in your movies. keep us both at a distinguishable distance, and i'm yours."

  "oh, the angel is quite feisty today, huh?" sunday's firm threats would always smote reca's heart with an incomprehensible emotion: the experience bore a close resemblance to a seductive whisper breathed into the ears of a man with tendencies unknowingly repressed. it kept reca hooked to sunday, like a drug almost. 

  a baffled gasp fluttered out of sunday's mouth. "it's not even close to a threat, reca. you're riling yourself over nothing."

  "then what would it be? an attempt to seduce a naked, hopeless man in bed? very cruel of you, sunday."

  before reca continued with his long lines of dramatics, sunday cut him short with the important details. "i'm going out to see robin. i won't be back until the evening, perhaps."

  "well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" reca's vague remark earned a raised eyebrow from sunday. so he continued with a more well-clarified reply after that. "a bonding time between two siblings."

  "hopefully it will be that until evening. i don't look too forward to being trampled on by the paparazzis," sunday prayed, now standing up from the bed to approach the coat rack near the bedroom door. 

  reca surveyed sunday with blank interest, with his closed mouth moving in a way that he was trying to find the right words.

  "well, you could be the next rising star. i could make you one. you know that, right?"

  sometimes, sunday believed that he didn't show enough appreciation for reca's excessive indulgence in drama and romance. because when he started flipping into this personality, it reminded sunday of their dissimilar dating expectations. 

  sunday's motion was frozen by uncertainty: influenced by the unseen attempts at balancing consequences. sunday wanted to remind reca that he never liked that phrase, but at the same time — he didn't want to start another stupid fight. it was too early to break his promise. 

  "perhaps now is not the right time for me to, think, of such decisions," was all sunday could muster in response. he turned around, looking up to reca through his gray lashes. the absurdly wrong approach in maintaining conversation flow surely freshened reca up, seeing he was standing near sunday now. 

  "yeah, i know," reca replied, almost like he knew what was running in sunday's mind. "a kiss? before you go out, maybe?"

  although reca would tick sunday's off with his stupid antics, sunday also found himself struggling against his sweet charisma. 

  with his palms pressed against reca's bare chest, sunday kissed his cold cheek. he watched the way reca's head slightly turned. the warmth coming from his body intensified when reca's arms encircled around sunday's shoulders, as his mouth searched for sunday's lips.

  but sunday was well-versed in his stupid tricks. his hand immediately blocked the space between their mouths. "alright. alright. i will go now."

  "awh. i didn't know the state of the kissing economy is much serious than i thought," reca joked wit an amused laugh. "it's stingier now!" 

  sunday's back turned against reca, now he was reaching for the doorknob. "you already had plenty yesterday. and i'm not out the whole day. you can have me in the evening after. so don't be greedy, reca."

  "such a bold description of me, angel," reca purred. "sure. i will wait for you. have fun with robin."

  and reca was out of his view when the door closed behind him.

  ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

when sunday looked at the clock again, it was near one. sunday had always made it a habit to come early, so he could at least brace himself for what he will be plunging himself into for the day. he disliked spontaneity — and he believed that his dislike was influenced by the lack of control he had over the situation.

  sounds of keys clinking against the glass table startled him, as a slim shadow fell on the surface of his menu. 

  "hi, hi!" through huffs, robin greeted his brother in a gleeful tone. sunday looked up, noticing that some strings of robin's hair were sticking to her sweaty forehead. that detail led to him assuming that she ran all the way here. likely to avoid a crazed fan, or stories similar to that.

  "hello," sunday replied. "you are sweating. did you run all the way here?"

  robin pulled out a handkerchief from the pockets of her skirt, as she dabbed the excess oil forming on his forehead and the bridge of her nose, before patting some more on her chin. each touch was careful to avoid lifting her foundation. 

  "yeah," robin finally admitted, as she folded the towel on her lap. "i was not being chased around, luckily. it was just that there was an emergency that needed my own physical inspection on the situation. so i rushed all the way from home to the site on foot. but it was resolved long time ago, so it's not something that i'm that intrigued to speak about."

  sunday would like to follow up with another few questions to feed the curious voice in his head, but decided to neglect its appetite for now. 

  "what are we ordering?" robin asked immediately, showcasing an evident sign of not wanting to proceed with the earlier subject. the feet of the chair screeched under her weight when she scooted closer to sunday, in hopes to get a glimpse of the details on the menu. 

  sunday shrugged his shoulders lightly. "i'm up for anything, really."

  after hearing his statement, she raised both of her eyebrows with her lips widened in an elated grin. "if so," robin lifted the menu from the top of its height. "let me take the initiative. i have seen too many reviews on my timeline about some of the food here, so we can go with that," then robin looked at sunday with a reassuring nod. "most of them are vegan, so we are both winning here! isn't that great?" 

  "well. of course." 

  when the waiter stopped at their table, robin greeted them happily before listing down some foods. good for sunday, that some of the foods ordered were in smaller portions, so sunday didn't have to suffer through the terrible nausea of being too full. 

  sunday quietly observed the waiter, there was a disguised elation behind the small creases of their small smile. almost as if they were holding back the urge to just giggle around robin. it was not a hard guess to assume that the waiter was also another fan of robin, but had chosen to not break out of their professionalism for robin's comfort. there are fans like that.

  after robin had finished her small conversation, she turned her conversation to sunday. "so, what's new with you?"

  a pleasant smile graced his cheeks. "shouldn't i be the one asking you that question? you were all over the news after your trailer dropped."

  "yeah, but you have heard of it all, no?" then she leaned slightly closer, with her whispering: "it almost feels intrusive sometimes too."

  the phrase 'intrusive' did came to mind whenever sunday read through some of the articles. in rarer times, sunday agreed with robin's fans on the fact that the questions were inappropriate, with no association with the movie. but sunday also understood these news media outlet's point of view: you don't get money from being respectful and ethical.

  "but let's not bore you with my job," robin declined. "we should talk about you. but i also know my dearest brother would never know where to begin. so let's start with reca? how are you with him?"

  sunday heaved out a small sigh of an unreadable emotion. "it's all good," then sunday took it back immediately, knowing that there was no way for him to wiggle out of this lie. "i mean. we had a few fights here and there. but it's a natural thing in relationships, no? to have contradicting opinions."

  "well, reca said that you were in such a sour mood lately. so i was wondering if it didn't have to do more with reca, but more about our father."

  an uneasiness stirred in sunday, but he beat the feelings aside. 

  yes, mostly it had to do with his father. but reca was also responsible for being the catalyst to the issue as well, by continually looming over him by asking him too many questions. or maybe sunday was having a difficult time to cope with the fact that his father should be held accountable too. or another possibility, sunday was just bad at managing his other feelings. unlike what he convinced himself last night. 

  sunday paused for awhile, as he tried to find the right words that could satisfy all parties. he had never perceived his feelings or opinions as the utmost importance, especially given that he can be too irrationally emotional. so in moments like this, he tried to see it from a more logical viewpoint. 

  "i was just, overwhelmed, with the upcoming engagement party. that's all."

  "which is like in five months," robin reminded him. 

  sunday continued, "that is true. but father really likes planning ahead. some of the discussions require my answers and approvals. "

  then he started looking around, as if he was trying to summon all the past arguments in his memory back to life. "well, there were some fights about me disliking any extravagance in our engagement party," sunday shrugged. "i dont know. i just, don't feel that it's necessary. although this whole relationship is all about benefits. that's a fact we both can agree on."

  "benefits," robin repeated him, with a baffling accent. "sure. arranged relationships for family benefits don't kiss each other freely. or happily live together."

  the first three dishes spread across the table. 

  robin continued, "but that's a good thing. that you're getting along with reca, though. i would hate to be wedded with someone that i can't even get along with."

  honestly, sunday wouldn't say that both of them got along that well. the primary factor that stabilized their relationship was sunday's more tolerant personality, who was more forgiving of some reca's poor habits.

  suddenly, a thought entered sunday's mind. "did reca really reach out to you?" 

  robin, who was inspecting the current condition of her manicure, looked up to sunday with widened eyes. "huh?" then, when the question finally registered to her fully she replied, "oh. well, sometimes. he would ask me for my opinions, on how to approach you after a couple's arguments and so on. most of my answers are not that helpful though, since i have never known that you have a habit of — err— fleeing, is that the term?" 

  sunday's mouth slightly hung open, then he closed it back up. he thought that he would have known how to tackle the situation much efficiently, but then he realized that he didn't have many points to defend himself either. 

  "i don't run away that often, though?" denial is always the best way to go. "perhaps a few times. but it hasn't reached two digits yet, so it doesn't count."

  robin laughed. "didn't know that you would be the type of person who would be counting that way," there was a slight pause in the conversation. "you know. i feel like i don't know a lot about you. it makes me feel guilty. especially when you have been helping me a lot with everything. from giving me a boost of fame to even settling with reca."

  although everyone knew sunday was reca's sweetheart, there was one painful truth that was never revealed (yet) to the public.

it was the fact that the marriage was mostly pursued for both parties' benefits.

  robin was the initial choice of partner for reca. but the subtle launch of their relationship had caused a rapid decline in her fame, followed with negative backlash. realizing how this could potentially ruin her career for life, sunday had stepped in and agreed to being reca's partner.

  for reca's part, he admitted that he didn't mind the switch. both siblings were equally attractive despite the different charms. 

  but the mastermind that orchestrated this was no other than their own father. he had always wanted to preserve the family legacy of birthing celebrities, so it was natural of him to want to have the same for robin, who was born with the charisma of an idol.

  though most thought that robin was mr. gopher wood's favourite, most of the family members in the oak lineage would disagree. it had always been sunday. 

  mr. gopher had pressured robin to remain in the relationship with reca, which she disagreed with. when she started showing signs of rebelling in an attempt to reclaim her independence in the situation, sunday stepped in. his sacrifice had expelled all the dreadful stress in his father's body, replacing it with a good sense of relief.  

sunday's self-sacrificial trait had always been his powerful tool that contributed to why he was his father's favourite. though robin secretly perceived it as the final killing blow to his own character. sometimes. 

  now sunday was set off to marry reca. 

  while reca didn't have much say in this. more like he didn't feel like his response wouldn't contribute much to the outcome. he too wanted fame. although he had the talent, he needed the connections. 

  perhaps sunday was so caught up in the fog of his own thoughts, that robin immediately changed the flow of their conversation.

  "i was about to share with you that," robin brought her attention to the steaming mushroom soup and soft garlic bread in front of her. as she wiped her hand down with a wet tissue of wipes, she continued, "remember lady bonajade? miss jade, maybe. for you. remember her?"

  with a fork pierced through the bread, with the knife slicing apart into two pieces, sunday replied: "yes. i do know her. lovely person. why?"

  "she had this promotion party, and she asked me to come," robin's fork hovered the slice that sunday had cut. "since lady bonajade has been asking about you so many times. i was thinking about bringing you too."

  "why the hesitation?" sunday asked curiously. he can't recall if he had ever been his poor behaviour around lady bonajade previously for robin to tip-toe around the subject with him.

  as soon as those words came out of sunday's mouth, robin wondered if she should have practiced more caution in how she phrased it. "remember kakavasha?"

  pause.

  "he will be attending the party too," robin's eyes immediately avoided sunday's frozen gaze, suddenly her interest was piqued in the parsley pieces scattered on the buttered toast. "but then there are also other people attending as well. like, mr. welt and ms. himeko. then there's march, and stelle. oh! — and danheng too, if he recovers from his fever fast enough. that was what he told me last time through text. they miss you too."

  "is that why you're bringing me?"

  robin sighed through clenched teeth. "yes. well, but then they mentioned about kakavasha coming over too, so. they brought him up during the discussion about potluck. i'm not sure how to tell you about that. it's fine if you don't want to come though, i completely understand. they too."

  the hand that cut through the bread placed the knife on the plate, now ripping the plastic layer of the butter. "is there any available slot for desserts?"

  "you're coming?"

  "if the majority of the guests enjoy muffins, sure. i don't see the harm of following along. if the dinner has a strict no-dessert rule, then i'm turning it down," sunday explained. "after all, it's rude of me to show up empty-handed."

  it appeared that dear sunday was avoiding any contact with the elephant in the room — or more precisely, the peacock. 

  there was an itch that robin needed to scratch. but she was worried that if she dared to even lay a finger on it, she would have run the risk of it bleeding out. so all she could do was remain silent and waited for sunday to finish spreading the butter on the warm sweet bread so she could have a piece. perhaps shifting the conversation to the quality of the food was a more ideal move.

  when robin was about to initiate the change, sunday cut in. "kakavasha and i did ended on bad terms back then. but quite recently, i discovered that the separation wasn't lethally bad enough, since we didn't kill each other when we met each other again on the train on my way back home. so, perhaps a small chit-chat is all you will be seeing from us."

  "really?" robin asked with her head cocked to the other side, a little too surprised. almost taken aback. then she cleared her throat, correcting her tone. "really? wow. that's good progress right?"

  "yes," the strawberry jam melted on the surface of the bread, merging with the yellow butter. 

  the cold, hard silence spared no space for robin to burrow in more questions. it was almost as if sunday was telling her silently to not ask for more.

  up to this day, robin really knew what happened to the two lovebirds. on a random day, her brother announced that he will no longer be seeing kakavasha.

  which was a huge shocker, since they were both attached to the hip. even if kakavasha was hardly religious, he will still follow sunday to the church for sermons. and even when sunday didn't like going out past his bedtime, you can still see a sleepy-faced sunday next to kakavasha in the main city of penacony. 

  but on a random day, they just broke up. there were no alarming signs of a separation, which made their breakup this one big mystery that robin couldn't crack until now. 

  some of their friends said that they had never discussed breaking up. both were happy with each other, too happy even. so nobody knew what really happened.

  the only piece of information that robin managed to get from sunday was the fact that her brother initiated it first. sunday justified that the breakup was needed. but the possible reason that led up to the decision was never revealed. 

  and fast-forward a few years later, sunday agreed to date reca. saying that he wasn't interested in searching for romantic relationships anymore, so he was more than happy to settle down and call it a day. 

  which was really strange to robin, since this was also the same man who had spent a quarter of his fortune on his ex-boyfriend before. and the same man who would stay up nights preparing anniversary presents, and throwing private parties for their ex-boyfriend alone. so, where did that romantic spirit fly off to?

  robin brought the cup near her lips. love can do weird changes to people.

  luckily, robin wasn't interested in that subject.

there wasn't much to explain really for this time around.

what really caused him to break out into a yelling fit was only because he was overwhelmed with the way that reca would loom over him, bombarding him with too many questions. 

there weren't really any other factors that influenced his sudden explosive reaction.

but then, sunday found it difficult to turn his feet around and walk himself home. he liked to think that it could have been the residual guilt, but sunday was good in handling with emotions relating to guilt and resentment.

and no matter how he tried to convince himself that he was good at managing his own emotions, his actions completely showcased a contradicting answer. he found himself walking further from home, with nothing but his own phone. and he didn't even bother to check if his phone was running out of battery, or that reca had been blowing up his phone in trying to contact him.

his mind was submerged in an incomprehensible emotion that pushed him to travel further. but the exhaustion finally bit his legs numb, so he had decided to rely on public transportation to give him a similar relief. so here he was: on the train that led to anywhere.

  funnily enough, this was the same train that he would always take during his university days. 

  yes, yes — sunday agreed that he was good at handling emotions relating to guilt and resentment. but not much on the yearning part. 

  one part of himself that he was too shameful to admit was his yearning. sunday was well-acquainted with both the term and experiences of yearning: for a rich guy, yearning shouldn't even be a familiar phrase. by the snap of his fingers, he could have anything in his palm almost immediately.

  but sunday yearned for a lot of things: some of the yearning was rather too 'controversial' for him to admit at the moment. but he could say it almost naturally around five years ago, when life was much better.

  the blinking lights above him snapped him out of the unknown trance. his head was turned towards both directions, as he observed his surroundings carefully. most of the working groups had left the station, while some that remained were chatting with good friends with shopping bags ornamented around their legs. 

  now, sunday believed that he was in a better emotional condition to respond to people without that passive-aggressive texting accent he had. so he immediately searched for any traces for reca.

  reca did called him a few times: some were in between a few minutes, and a few times in some hours. there was a gap that showed his frustration slowly ballooning into concern, which did cause sunday to feel somewhat guilty. 

  then there were a few text messages from robin asking if he was arguing with reca again. that would be the third time this week. 

  his fingers hovered over the bright screen, as his brain conjured up responses that sounded at the very least polite and considerate, rather than bitchy. 

  but each time he typed out a few sentences, he would wipe them out. both reca and robin were not online at the moment, so his hand didn't turn cold and clammy from the pressure of having to text almost immediately.

  the mark of his displeasure was presented in the face by how he would furrow his brows and pucker his lips by a slight: but none of these gestures could squeeze out an appropriate response.

  as ugly as this sounded, sunday sometimes wished that he didn't have to go home now.

  and guess what.

  "sunday, is that you?" his eyes slightly widened in response, with his lips sealed in a thin line. that familiar-sounding voice immediately tightened all of his insides, leading to the feeling of bile consuming his entire mouth. 

  the next station would be around ten minutes. it wouldn't be that long, right? that was the approximate time of him consuming his breakfast at his office table, because he didn't want his coffee to turn too cold. he could bear through this, easily.

  so he decided to use the classic move of ignoring the owner of the chirpy voice, in hopes that the stranger would gradually give up. 

  but then he saw that slim figure of a shadow looming over him. 

  there was nowhere for him to escape.

  "are you seriously ignoring me?" there was a note of light amusement in the stranger's voice, almost as if he was baffled by how sunday refused to even acknowledge him. "hey, hello. sunday oak, do you remember me?" the stranger began waving his hand a few times, as the sleeves of his black jacket rustled against the striped shirt. 

  but sunday knew this stranger was hardly acquainted with giving up: he would continually nudge sunday around until he got the response that he needed. 

  sunday slowly turned his head towards the stranger, locking eyes with the familiar person. he could now feel that his heart was pounding in his throat, which made him afraid that any sentence uttered would come out in a stutter. so all he could muster was a smile: it should be enough, no? 

  "yes, kakavasha?"

  "here i thought that you would have forgotten about me," then kakavasha's lips stretched across his teeth, curling into a thin sneer. with the way his eyes were eyeing sunday's appearance, his body chilled in insecurity. it completely slipped out of sunday's mind that he was dressed in lounge wear, with his feet tucked in brown loafers. a mismatched fashion. "bad day today, huh?"

  "not my luckiest night. but everything will return back to normal tomorrow, so there's nothing to fret about," sunday shrugged his shoulders casually, feigning nonchalance. 

  "a 'yes' could have been a much simpler answer, but mr. sunday has always enjoyed longer, fancier speech."

  disorientation overtook sunday, as his thoughts became a blur. he tried to snap back with a smarter response, but he could feel that his throat was closing up on him. so he could only respond to kakavasha with a silent answer. in a way that spoke: let's just end the conversation here, we both are bad for each other. 

  sunday's refusal to participate in the conversation initiated had dulled the small spark of excitement in kakavasha's multicoloured eyes. he looked down to sunday's feet with an unreadable expression, before kakavasha began patting his hand on the pocket of his own vest. a sturdy sound of cardstock paper crumpled under the light pats was heard, piquing sunday's interest. 

  kakavasha pulled out a paper, which sunday immediately recognized as a business card. aeons have mercy— is kakavasha implying that he's a hopeless case now? 

  "i landed a good job now in penacony. the pay's great, so are the benefits. you should visit me sometimes," he handed over the card to sunday. the gray-haired man cast his glance on the card, but did not inspect the details written on it. instead, his focus was on the rough etched lines on kakavasha's palm that he was familiar with. 

  kakavasha gave him an encouraging nod, almost as if he was persuading sunday to take it. as if compelled under a spell, sunday took the card.

  "it's probably nothing compared to what you have seen — or engaged with," the disdain was evident to sunday through the looks of kakavasha's raised brows. "but it's something that i'm proud of. you know me, i love being a show-off. i would appreciate it if you could give me that small boost of ego, just like back then."

  grief wrung, twisting sunday's heart open. "well, i can do that," sunday said, choosing to voice other thoughts. "congratulations on your new position as the senior manager in the strategic investment department, kakavasha. i hope the ipc treats you well. and pays you well, too."

  the faintest look of disappointment trembled in kakavasha's unreadable face, which was immediately concealed with his smile. "sure. that's lovely too."

  a frown creased in sunday's face, followed with a slight shake of his head. "sorry. my mind — it's scrambled," sunday brought his sweat-slicked hand close to his face, as if to hide away his slight embarrassment at the situation faced.

  ding. 

  a sudden rush of energy brought instant recovery to his fatigued legs. the 'ding' sound was an indicator that sunday had arrived at the next station. he immediately stood up, almost ready to leave. "i really have to go now. it's good seeing you though."

  kakavasha mimicked sunday's action, standing with a hand in his pocket while the other clung on the pole for balance. "you are really in a rush. where are you going?"

  "i'm just going home," sunday reassured with a wave of his hand, in hopes that could shoo kakavasha away. 

  a muscle worked in kakavasha's cheek, almost as if he was fighting a smile. "well, sure. i can take a good lie as an answer."

  "i am going home."

  "sure, no need to tell me twice. i believe in you, a hundred percent," the faintest sneer flickered across his lips, showing a playful expression.

  sunday fought the urge to bark back, but realized that such a response was alike to him biting into a bait. so he just dismissed the man, with hopes that they will never cross paths again. 

  but there was a small pinch of yearning that had him turning his back around again.

  he never really understood why he needed to see kakavasha's face for one last time, where he was very familiar with the physical characteristics and facial features of the so-called stranger. how could he forget? especially when it was the same face that he used to love.

  and kakavasha too, was possessed by a similar instinct. 

  when only merely a fraction of kakavasha's body was present for view, kakavasha called out: "sunday, i—"

  but the doors immediately slammed close, as that similar tune surrounded the station. 

  while sunday assumed that their interactions had reached an end, kakavasha approached one of the nearest windows to sunday. he pointed at the card in sunday's hand, and later mouthed: "call me."

  the train took him away, sparing him no time to flash his cheeky grin that sunday was too familiar by. 

  before sunday could fully register what had happened, a text message from reca entered his vision.

  the text message was followed with a call, as sunday picked it up immediately.

  "hello, baby," reca murmured, with a voice raspy yet held a small weight of caution. almost as if he was afraid that the conversation could spiral into the wrong direction if he chose to tick off sunday again. "look. i'm really, really sorry. that would be first. i know you have reminded me countless times about you needing space and so on. i really tried, sunday. only aeons know how much i have tried controlling myself. but could you really blame a worried man?"

  sunday pressed his phone closer to his ear. "why, is there something that you afraid of telling me, reca?"

  "baby, you're too sweet for me. even in the thickest part of tension between us, you could still make a dispute feel like a race of love," reca dramatically swooned. "but no. i didn't get my hands dirty in something naughty. i'm just at the same train station that you are at now."

  oh, yes. sunday forgot that the location safety app that—mind you—he suggested himself, also had some unfavourable outcomes. like having to do the walk of shame to your boyfriend's car after a massive fight that you started first. 

  "just, wait for me. it wouldn't take a minute."

  then sunday ended the call immediately. with his jacket being bunched up in his hands to maximize heat for his cold body, he went down the stairs carefully. the sound of his loafers slapping against the steel stairs made a loud noise, an effect from him walking fast. 

  when he finally reached downstairs, a loud honk helped him to immediately identify reca's car.

  shyly, he unlocked the car door and entered in. what hung in the air was the familiar scent of reca's woody cologne overwhelming his senses, narrowing down his focus only to reca and him alone. 

  "hey," reca greeted him, as he observed sunday fastening his seat belt immediately. "we are not going anywhere soon, so don't worry about it."

  "hey," sunday returned back, now turning towards reca fully. "i know. i just wear it for safety reasons. don't want to get you in more trouble in case i forget."

  reca's silhouette was a tense line, contradicting his rather elated expression. perhaps he too was plagued by guilt. to ease the last tension in his body, sunday's hand immediately reached out for his, as he intertwined their fingers together immediately. reca's hand cold from being exposed to the air conditioner during the drive, and also lacked moisture of sweat. it was just dry.  

  sympathy warmed sunday's eyes, and he hoped that it could soothe the spike of anxiety in reca too. "thank you. for picking me up—" and sunday paused for a while, before continuing: "and dealing with all of this. i'm not really sure what spurred me to do such a thing. but i will try not to flee from home again. next time, i will make sure to speak to you. properly. like adults. that would be a promise."

  sunday's last sentence had caused reca to let out an amused snort, which he immediately attempted to recover with a hand clasped over his mouth. "yes. like adults."

  sunday puckered his brows confusedly at his boyfriend's antics. "what?"

  "no, it's just that—" reca concluded his sentence with a short shrug, before leaning closer to press a light kiss on the corner of sunday's lips with a loud smooching. "you have such an awkward habit of describing some things. which is quite a shocker, given your fancy speech. it's cute though." 

  that was the second person to associate his speech with the term fancy.

  (or maybe, sunday was overthinking about it.)