likae

2.) Why Try by Ariana Grande

3.) Does Your Mother Know by Christine Baranski

4.) Everyone, Nobody by Grace Yurchuk

5.) Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall

The commotions grew louder, reminding her of the upcoming festival the locals had been so keen about. Her eyes landed on her bedside table, clinging to a far-off place of comfort, but it had remained void with no decoration to fill it. Void like the heart that lived inside her.

Regret washed over her like an inevitable tide, and the cold sheets clung to her skin, as if to whisper, “Don’t leave.” And she felt it creep—conniving voices that led to a helpless cycle of drowning in a quiet sorrow. And while the excited screaming outside her house helped ground her, the empty yet raging emotions she felt worked twice as hard to keep her on a tight rein.

She knew she had to get up. She was a part of the volunteer work no matter how much she saw no point in it. Trying, she opened her heavy eyes, and just then did she see the lit candle she kept in the corner of her room say hello to her. It swayed in an unwavering dance while the wax beneath it melted. Observing the point where darkness and light met, she watched it fervently. The subtle gradient connecting the blinding glow and the bounding shadows resonated with her. And maybe, just maybe, she will find strength to move from the shadows to the dancing candlelight.

Lilia found herself walking side-by-side an overzealous event coordinator. She merely pressed her lips to a thin line, tuning out from the narrations of this annual event’s meaningful history. Instead, her eyes wandered to the trimmed shrubs, flashy decor, and hurrying passersby. It was tradition for everyone to contribute to the event, however little, as she had been told. And she knew what that implied.

Lilia wasn’t unaware of the murmurs in the street. She wasn’t unaware of the pitying looks. She wasn’t unaware of how they saw her—a lonely, old broad. Now, “old,” she didn’t mind. She deemed herself as ancient as antiques and took great pride in it. There was great pleasure hidden in wisdom old. “Lonely,” however, left her biting the cold sting that swallowed her whole.

Old and lonely. The way it’s said with such callousness is enough to drive anyone up a wall, especially when it served as a reminder to someone she wished to forget. Even now, she wasn’t unaware of the pathetic looks the event coordinator gave her. Lilia gave a tight smile as she contemplated finding a different place to settle down. Nothing stopped her the last time.

Somewhere between history talk and keen info dumping, they had reached the asphalt in which the bakery stood loud and proud, juxtaposed with such humble decor—a “Bakery” sign simply stood there. No design. No decor. No embellishment. Lilia took note to offer some door beads, at the very least

The smell a mix of baked goods and raw ingredients pervaded through the warm air and hit Lilia’s nostrils invitingly. She loosened her tight hold on her cardigan—the warmth getting to her.

“Hello!” A buzzing, gruff voice spoke the minute the door chime rang.

“Hi!” The overzealous event coordinator spoke in turn, motioning at Lilia. “This is Lilia! She’ll be volunteering to decorate the cakes today!”

Now the word “volunteering” did not apply to Lilia. She was told it was "mandatory." And Lilia struggled not to let out a scoff.

“Ah! Lilia! The new person in town, right?” She said thoughtfully, finger on her chin.

Lilia gave a half-smile, busy thinking how she could grant herself an out on this one. The closer she got to the task at hand, the harder she wished she had chosen somewhere else to stay instead.

“People call me Mrs. Cornett, but you are more than welcome to call me Ella.” She grinned, waving goodbye to the event coordinator.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

It wasn’t long after that Mrs. Cornett showed Lilia the ropes. While she’d only ever be decorating baked goods, in Mrs. Cornett’s words, it never hurts to know more than you need to. Lilia didn’t quite agree with that statement, finding the art of being oblivious more favorable than being aware. Even when that obliviousness was nothing more than a facade. It was safer. Predictable. A learned dance.

An array of confectionaries furnished the counters of the pastry kitchen, waiting to be dressed up prettily. Mrs. Cornett explained that she’d be running to the grocery to get more ingredients. In her absence, however, another volunteer could show up, so she requested Lilia show them around. Nodding, Lilia bid her goodbye, her tense shoulders relaxing. And signaled by the resounding door chime, she was alone like she wanted—no, needed.

Eyeing the delicacies that stood before her, she took one of the ready piping bags sitting on the counter and started to bring some color to an otherwise blonde cake. But the moment the icing touched the cake, it sent Lilia back to a scene she wished she could forget. A place that brought up such passionate feelings. A time when colors so vibrant were her normal.

“Lils!” A voice so clear rang in the back of her mind.

 And just like habit, she fell deeper into her landmine of questions, a lump growing in her throat. Questions always arose. Questions she herself should know the answer to. Questions like why she left. Why she was so scared. And though a part of her knew why, she feigned ignorance. And when she’d let these burning questions pull her under just long enough, she’d disregard them and repeat this process like a broken record player.

But her thoughts never stopped at just questions.

When she recalled the scene in her bedroom—her being tucked comfortably in her bed, you gazing at her adoringly—she felt the weight of words when you had confessed quite softly. It came in the form of Valentine's. And although eight letters haven't been said, she could feel it emanating from you. She could always feel it emanating from you.

While her heart skipped a beat in delight, a sickening old friend tapped her by the shoulder—fear—as if “I love you” was a humiliating, malignant phrase, stripping her soul bare. So she ran.

But it caught up to her.

She knew that.

How she spent every waking hour recalling your face.

How she hadn't changed the habit of leaving the door unlocked.

How she hopelessly searched in the sea of laughs, hoping she would find you.

Maybe if she wasn’t so terrified, the outcome would’ve been different.

Fleeing wasn't a new concept to her. She had done it before, so she should be able to do it again with practiced ease. She figured she just needed more time. She could spare a few years; it would simply pass by in the blink of an eye. Her life span was longer than that of humans, after all.

But with that thought in mind, a deep sense of longing enveloped her in a weighted hug. How she wished she could see you. How she wished she could hug you. How she wished you were here. What she would give to love you again.

When she snapped out of her trance, she realized the icing had dripped down to the counter and the floor. It irked her as she wrinkled her brow in irritation.

"What a mess," she grumbled.

The door softly squeaked behind her, and that added on to her growing frustration, not bothering to greet who she assumed was another volunteer. She stood there, observing the awful mess while holding the piping bag in her hand.

"Lils..." The person behind her said breathlessly. But it was said with so much familiarity. So much care. So much love. And the way it had been said sent a mix of butterflies and ache her way.

Lilia's eyes lit up as she swiftly turned around, almost as if to catch something that could disappear in a moment.

"It couldn't be."

And there, she was greeted by the one she longed for.

You stood there with tears welling up in your eyes. And she herself couldn't believe it.

“Lils,” you laughed, almost as if to find humor, “the icing goes on top.”

< previous chapter

One.

Two.

Three.

You held your breath, half-expecting languid footsteps to shift behind the front door.

No sound came.

You sighed. It was within your foresight that this could happen.

"Lilia..." you trailed, testing the name you haven't said in weeks. "Um, it's me, Y/N."

You strained your ear to give the dense air a listen.

Nothing.

"Look, I know that it's awkward right now, and..." Your breath caught. "I don't blame you. But can we talk? Please?"

Listening harder to catch a hint of her presence, you pressed your body closer to the door, and it flew open, taking you with it. You tried to regain your footing by instinctively reaching for a wall, but by then, your loss of balance was the least of your concerns. The warmth of lit candles didn’t creep into your skin, nor did the aroma of baked goods hit your nose. Your heart fell first before your mind could catch up. Lifting your head to look around Lilia’s place, you found yourself to be greeted by darkness.

Cold, unnerving darkness.

Quickly flipping the light switch on with great familiarity, your eyes roamed to the living room in search of Lilia—frantically. Portraits she had hung up were stripped bare from the walls. Candles were a sea of snaste. Trinkets she had displayed were missing.

And for a moment, you wished you hadn't gone inside.

Your legs moved before your mind could object. You caught sight of the various changes in her house. What was once so lively and colorful was reduced to remnants of her touch: the kitchen no longer had her favorite teas shelved alphabetically. The dining room table was no longer dressed in a florid tablecloth. And the closer you approached her bedroom door, the more a sinking feeling gnawed at you. As if by instinct, you already knew what you would see. Even if you didn’t realize it.

You hesitantly pushed open the door, scanning the room. The mattress was exposed. The closet doors were fully opened to reveal few clothes inside it. The vanity had perfume bottles flipped to its side, almost to signify a hurried rifling.

A slow, heavyweight emotion tugged at your heart before it translated to the pit in your stomach. Then, your eyes landed on the picture frame on her bedside table. A picture where you both had your noses crinkled in laughter with frosting on both of your noses. The presence of it should have been comforting, but it wasn't. For it meant only one thing: she had left it behind.

Among the sea of treasures she loved oh-so-much, she had left it behind.

“What are you doing?” a groggy voice spoke from behind you.

You whipped your head in her direction, having just taken out a baked cake from the oven. Your eyes widened, immediately checking the clock hanging on the wall, which read 4:51 AM.

“Lilia!” you said, sounding upset, “You’re supposed to be sound asleep!”

She let out a small laugh, finding amusement in your blatant frustration. She started coming closer, lazily dragging her feet across the tiled floor before you held your hand up in defiance. She raised an eyebrow, and you furrowed yours.

“It’s your birthday! You shan’t pass,” you said, taking on a faux-authoritative tone.

Wearing a dopey smile, the kind that never failed to make your heart flutter, she stepped closer—an act of defiance. You pulled the baking pan to the far edge of the counter to tell Lilia you weren’t interested in her help—a gesture she didn’t miss.

“Oh, darling, must I remind you that you’re in my house using my kitchen?” Her tone was patronizing, and you squinted your eyes to come up with a comeback but failed to think of any, leaving your mouth hanging open. You huffed out in frustration, and she laughed in amusement.

“Stop laughing!”

The last of her laughter died down, and a smile replaced it. Though her hair was still untamed, having just woken up, you couldn’t help but admire just how… pretty she looked. For a moment, you stood there simply admiring her while she gazed at the freshly baked cake.

“Well, now the silence is a bit much,” you said awkwardly.

“It’s sweet.”

“What’s sweet?”

“This.”

Her eyes took in the sight of her kitchen. What was once an organized haven was reduced to a chaotic mess. Cupboards and cabinets were flung wide open, dishes were piled up in the sink with signs of multiple failed batches of batter, and your apron—her apron, rather—was covered in streaks of icing. Her eyes trailed to the bowl of vibrant yellow icing standing between the two of you.

“Hey, hey, stop looking at the mess,” you warned, knowing how uptight she becomes with disorganization.

"Mmm..." she hummed, taking in the scene in front of her. You could make out the slight twitch of her eyebrows, as if estimating the amount of work needed to clean up the mess, but at the same time, a hint of fondness sparked underneath her pressing gaze.

The thumping of your ever-so-active heart added to your growing nervousness. You tried to still it, afraid she could hear the relentless beats amid the silence.

And so you spoke.

"You should go back to sleep. The birthday girl has to reap the benefits of a surprise, okay?" you joked, comically puffing your chest with pride.

She couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm afraid to tell you that it isn't much of a surprise anymore, baby," she teased.

"Pretend for the bit."

"What bit?" she asked, confused.

"This bit!" You quickly dipped your finger in the yellow frosting and smeared some on her nose, catching her off guard. You had to stifle your giggles; the sight of Lilia having a yellow-dotted nose with her mouth hanging wide open too amusing for you to handle. She stood there shocked for a second before regaining her composure.

"Oh, you...!"

You immediately dashed to the other side of the counter as Lilia dipped her finger into the frosting, a look of vengeance crossing her face.

"Lilia, don't!" you warned, though you were laughing.

"Oh, I will."

"Don't!" She circles over to your side of the counter as you dash to where you both were standing before. "Lilia, I'm telling you, don't!"

"Oh, c'mon, baby."

Both of you were at a standstill for a moment, as if waiting for the other to move. Suddenly, a light bulb goes on in her head—an innocent smile crossing her face. Too innocent that it could be deemed wicked. And suddenly, you felt a soft and subtle hold on your foot. You whipped your head to check what it was, but you could only make out a faint glow—color yellow.

You immediately looked at Lilia, who was making her way towards you, taking her sweet ol' time making that turn around the kitchen counter.

"Lilia, you crazy, crazy woman," you muttered. "This is unfair!" You tried to peel your foot off the floor, trying your best to defy the force of magic, but to no avail.

And she, finally, stood before you. With her icing-covered finger.

"Most things in life are unfair, baby." Slight pause, leaning forward just a tiny bit. In this angle, you can clearly see her icing-covered nose, and your initial faux annoyance was replaced by stifled giggles. "But I know when it comes to me, you love it."

Your heartbeat quickened.

"I love many things. Like, say, oatmeal, cake, chocolate. Sugar, mostly,” you said, pointing at your fingers to sell the funny act.

"Then I'm sure you'll love this."

Smudge.

Well, you've been icing'd.

The magic restraint on your foot dissipated, and you both just stood there silently staring into each other's eyes—looks of admiration meeting each other.

“Well, it’s time to actually put icing on the cake, don’t you think?” Lilia teased.

You bit back a laugh, which translated to a scoff, knowing your nose now has icing on it. “Yeah, yeah, sure, Lils. Whatever makes the birthday girl happy.”

And for the rest of the day, you both tried to cover the cake in icing. Though it wasn’t done without a share of clumsiness, you both managed. And when you were finally done, with noses crinkled in laughter, you snapped a photo to preserve the memory at Lilia’s insistence.

You had thought it could only ever be better from there.

How wrong you were.

A few months had passed after Lilia’s birthday, and you both delicately balanced between the shifts of platonic affections to that of something more. It was a dance you both didn’t quite understand. But it felt right—to an extent.

Though no one mentioned a word and though no one seemed to notice, everyone felt the difference. The touches lingering for far too long, the sweetened chuckles of inside jokes, and the constant handholding. And though you both felt it was right, one of you made the mistake of directly pursuing the other. To pursue love.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” a gentle voice spoke from the other side.

You gently opened the door, and you were immediately greeted by the deep aroma of florals emanating from the lit candles. Lilia was lazily flipping through pages of a book while being comfortably seated on her bed. Smiling, you approached her bedside, catching sight of the framed birthday photo.

“What brings you here, baby?” she asked, yawning midway.

“Just wanted to see you.” You smiled.

“Oh, isn’t that right?” she cheekily replied, glancing up at you.

“Affirmative.” You winked, laughing.

Silence fell between the both of you. The occasional page-flipping of hers filled the air while you traced the edges of her bedside table. And during this comfortable silence, you tried to find the courage to ask.

“Say, Lilia?”

“Hm?” she replied, still reading the book.

“Do you want to go out on Valentine’s Day together?”

Lilia’s fingers stiffened, pausing in the beat. Her face froze and her eyes widened. You bit your lip in nervousness. Your heart kept beating and beating and beating, and you wished nothing more than for it to calm down. She suddenly let out a laugh to ease the tension, but you sensed nervousness beneath it. And you couldn’t quite tell whether it be a good or bad thing.

“Careful, baby.” Again with that teasing tone of hers. “It sure sounds a lot like you’re asking me out.”

“What if I am?”

This time, her whole body tensed. Color left her face, and you knew you had said something wrong. You wanted to reach out to her, but you didn’t quite know if that felt right.

Heavy, immediate silence followed. But this time, it didn’t feel comfortable. It felt like the opposite. And you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

Lilia took a deep breath then spoke firmly. “Please leave.”

“Huh?” you said rather clumsily.

“Leave.”

“What?” Your body grew cold. “Surely you don’t—“

“Don’t speak for me, Y/N.” She glared your way, her fingers digging into her book. “Leave.”

Your hands reached out but only midway, afraid any sort of contact would anger Lilia. “I’m sorry, Lilia, I really am. I just—“

“Must I repeat myself?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes.

And that made your heart fall. Because underneath her tense and avoidant behavior, you noticed fear written on her face. When she noticed hurt coloring your face, her hand instinctively reached out but stopped midway and looked to her side, biting her lip.

Your mind blanked out.

You shouldn't have said anything.

But how else to reach the human heart if not through words?

With color drained from your face, you found yourself walking out, going wherever your feet decided to take you. Time passed, and you figured you should wait until Lilia reaches out first. But a few days had turned to weeks.

And you found yourself seated atop what was once her bed.

You let out a hic. Only then did you realize that you had been crying. Streams of tears slid down your cheeks, and your shoulders moved upward involuntarily when you gasped for air. The shadow of Lilia echoed in this house. Memories resurfaced wherever you looked. Countless nights spent in this very place, exchanging jokes and laughs, and finding solace in each other. You let out a dry laugh, recalling once warm memories.

You reached for the framed photo, delicately tracing the corners. You looked at the happy photo once more—yellow icing on both noses, noses crinkled in laughter, and a cake that had seen better days. She had once treasured it so. But she left it. Just like that. And maybe it was just as easy to leave you behind. Because for Lilia, the crime of falling in love was a far graver crime than it was to simply flee from it. So maybe, for now, you’ll sit here waiting—waiting for when the grip of love completely drowns you out cold.

next chapter >

“I’m having fun watching the moon with you, Lils.” Your breath fanned her neck, and she found comfort in it. The close proximity between you both spoke in a language you both understood—it didn’t need translating. Just as you clung to her for warmth, she wrapped her arms around you for security.

Lilia gazed at the moon, lovingly so. She always seemed to look at it with great admiration. You picked your head up from off her shoulder to look at the moon again; its many craters scrutinized under your curious gaze. Lilia’s arm moved from your shoulder to your hip, and you found her hand to connect your fingers together. She responded in kind by affirming your touch. You turned to look at her. And how beautiful she looked.

You brought the back of her hand to your lips—gently placing a kiss on it. She seemed to be somewhat surprised but not quite—as if she should’ve expected it to begin with. You met her eyes and planted another kiss, this time on her wrist, as you brought her hand to cup your cheek. Her eyes swirled with affection and adoration.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you more,” she replied, idly drawing strokes on your cheek.

You smiled at her touch, basking yourself in her love. You softly pulled away from her touch and nestled your face in her neck again. The gentleness of the moment set in between you both, and your heart fuzzed with endearment. Without much thought, you planted a kiss on the side of her neck. Lilia’s breath stiffened, and you could feel the slight beat of her quickened pulse. Her temperature became warmer, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. She didn’t comment, watching the moon more intently. You felt the need to pull her leg a bit more, planting a kiss on her cheek.

She turned to look at you as if to say, “Stop it,” but there was no mistaking the pink that tinted her cheeks. The pale moonlight above only ever made her look more ethereal than before—something that never failed to steal your breath. Lilia Calderu never failed to steal your breath.

To break you away from your thoughts, Lilia cupped your cheek once more—this time planting a kiss atop your nose. You jump from your skin a little. A little embarrassed, you bury your face in her neck to avoid her loving eyes; the rise in her temperature made her warmer than before.

“I love you,” she whispered in undying love.

“I love you more.”