#for maxine

This is how you spend most afternoons, walking the streets until stars formed in the sky.

The emptiness and hollowness that filled you made you feel numb, matching the numbness on the outside because of the cold.

Out of nowhere, there's a loud crash. You look around to find the source, but you spot nothing. You hear it again, and it slightly echoes.

Rounding the corner, a man is kicking a trash can angrily. His hair falls over his face, and he has scruff on his jaw and chin and above his top lip. You couldn't distinguish much, except for his eyes, which were a breathtaking blue.

He nudges it hard again with his foot.

"Are you okay?" you ask, and he jumps, looking at you grumpily, but his eyes soften.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Sorry."

"You sure about that?" you breathe, concerned. You weren't an expert at reading people, but you could see it easily: that sadness that filled his eyes, making him look tired.

"I'm just..." He shrugs. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," you observe. "I don't mean to butt in, but if you need to talk, I'm here."

He blinks. He shifts to his other foot, and, with his head tilted, he asks, "Do you want to get a coffee, then, maybe?"

You smile sweetly, nodding.

After finding a late-night diner and ordering a hot chocolate for yourself, and a coffee for him, you slide into the seat across from him, handing him his coffee.

"Thanks," he mutters, his fingers closing around the cup.

"So what's wrong?"

Taking a small sip, he sighs. "I told you it was nothing. That's just it. There's nothing." He pauses. "I'm...I guess I'm tired of people always telling me I've changed. I'm the same damn person I've always been, yet the second they see something wrong and I don't want to tell them, they're all up on me, claiming I'm different. And then they expect me to be happy all the time, because I was always the cheerful kind of guy. I can't always be happy. I have my bad days, and they get mad at me for being a grump. It's just...I don't know who I am anymore. Or in this case, who I'm supposed to be."

Your eyebrows crease, your heart aching for him, feeling his pain.

"It's not fair," he continues. "Why aren't the happy ones allowed to be sad once in awhile? Not my fault I'm lonely."

He looks up at you suddenly, as if realizing the severeness of the words he's just admitted.

"It's okay," you tell him. "I know how you feel. You start off one person, and eventually you're worn out, all used up."

"Exactly," he breathes, his eyes widening. He looks almost relieved that you understand. "I'm not going to put on a fake smile just to please them. They don't like it, tough."

"That's how I see it," you agree, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you raise your cup to your lips. He takes a sip of his own drink, and you giggle when you see the trace of his coffee on the caterpillar on his lip.

"What?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

You raise a finger and hold it under your nose.

He quickly wipes his mustache, and he smirks. "Something funny?"

You press your lips together, shaking your head.

He grins, revealing high, round cheekbones and an adorable smile.

"What's your name?" he asks unexpectedly.

"Maxine," you answer.

"Hey, Maxine, I'm Garrett."

You smile sweetly. "Hi, Garrett. It's nice to meet you."

He nods, giving a cute, lopsided smile.

"Thanks for coming up to me earlier," he murmurs, looking down at his hands. "This has made my night ten times better."

You blush. "I-I'm glad."

"Doing anything tomorrow night?"

"Probably roaming the streets again," you say shrugging. "Why?"

"Mind if I walk with you?"

You bite your lip. "You mean tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he mutters, smiling. "If that's alright."

Your heart flutters for some reason.

"Okay," you mumble.

As you both finish your drinks, he pays for his drunk, and even though he insists on paying yours as well, you refuse.

Walking outside, you rub your hands together. It had definitely gotten colder, and you hadn't thought of bringing a jacket.

"Here," he mutters, shrugging off his leather jacket and placing it on your shoulders.

"Oh, what? You don't have to-"

"I want to,: he cuts in, smiling sweetly.

"Well...thank you." You look down, shy.

"See you here tomorrow?"

"Um...yeah."

He nods and walks away, waving.

You return home almost floating, on cloud nine, and you had no idea why.

Then you realized: for a few minutes, that emptiness, that feeling of having to fake yourself to live up to someone's expectations, faded away. You were able to be yourself. You felt comfortable with him. You felt understood.

For a few minutes...you were happy. Whole.