#wmhlx

It was intentional, when the video was posted on Facebook.

It was Helix’s own fault. Had Watermelon been around to hear him admit to that, the redhead would have snorted his ‘of-course-it-is-your-fault’ snort in Helix's general direction.

But as implied, WM was not here.

And his absence was, as mentioned, Helix’s fault.

It started with a rumour circulating around their campus regarding a certain out-of-town science convention. The Camp, it was called, was founded on the idea that if you lock up enough number of mad scientists in a confined space, they would either come up with the next milestone of scientific discovery, or gemma-radiate themselves into a group of superheroes. Either way, somebody thought that the idea was brilliant and that somebody was rich enough to fund it.

And so it was funded.

Helix has been excited for the event for weeks, bouncing up and down talking about it to anybody who still care about listening to him (note: Not Watermelon). The personal invitation came into the mail for both him and the redhead almost as soon as people starting talking about it. The Golden Ticket, some called it, cover all expenses both imaginable and unimaginable.

Finally, being the finest minds of their nation was worth something.

Helix dubbed this trip the 'honeymoon period' for him and WM- the week where they would be working side by side, sciencing it up, procreating their lovechild of an invention…..

Of course those are the exact wording he used in his letter to Lucianna and Sigmoid.

The reply came to him a day later. And just because Lucianna is, in the most endearing way, an absolute slut for dramatizing, the email was kept short.

You and your ginger are not the only smart ones, it said. Completed with the attachment of invitation to The Camp, addressed to Miss Lucianna Michaels and Mr. Simon Wells.

Just like that, Helix flipped the fuck out.

"Holy shit," he whispered, after he had somewhat gathered himself. "Holy- WM, you're meeting Simon and Lucianna."

And because it was so easy to succumb to excitement, Helix squealed like a little girl.

It has been a year, there had been countless letters between them. There were always letters, and may be because of that sometimes it was easy to forget that he actually miss Sigmoid and Parabola.

Now that there were days to count down, it felt like it has been too long since he’s seen them.

Above all the excitements, Helix dreaded it too. Just a little. Because it won't be just him catching up with his Parabola and Sigmoid. It would be him and WM meeting Lucianna and Simon. All the scenarios he cooked up inside his own head was enough to make him shit bricks if that was even humanly possible.

It was a walk on high-wire, this whole thing. If this went wrong, he crashes and burns- quite literally on the crashing part if this whole hypothetical rope-walking wasn’t a metaphorical walk in the first place.

But if, a reasonably probability of an if, if he does not fuck this up.

It would be fucking fantastic.

Helix was so ready for this. For The Camp, the nerves, the excitement, the plane ride, the car ride to the airport, this whole thing. He was so ready for everything when WM said to him that he isn't coming.

Helix gaped.

“You heard me.”

The redhead delivered his line calmly, green eyes behind the reading lens still scanning the paper on the desk.

Helix blinked once, twice. “What do you mean you’re not going?”

They were suppose to leave to the airport, in the next five- ten minutes, if they push it. Helix had a backpack sling over right shoulder, ready to walk out the door at an moment. WM was without anything of shape, size and dimensions that resemble a luggage, which Helix really should have taken that as a red flag a night ago. Instead, Helix ask him if he was ready to make the trip.

Which was precisely when WM told him he would not be coming.

The redhead looked up from what he was reading, broken away from his ‘zone’ and into the real world where, slowly, it would be registered to him that Helix is being a pest. “It means I’m not going to your little camp.”

“But I thought- Sigmoid and Parabola is going to be there- we talked-.” Words fell out of his mouth, Helix alternated his glance between his roommate and the time on Hello Kitty Clock. “What the fuck, Watermelon?”

“You talked. You didn’t ask.“ WM said coolly, “I didn’t say I would go.”

So there it was, Helix's fault.

His ‘fault’. Because despite all the lunatic blabbering he has done, all the implications of how important this whole deal was for him, it was Helix's own faults to assume WM would come along easily with his plan without him having to verbally ask.

Because he had assumed WM wouldn’t be so heartless, wouldn’t act so stupid.

It was the game they play, WM skirting around the what was upsetting him, quietly sulking, never tell Helix when he was being an idiot just so it would all crash down on him in the most unexpected moment. The guy conveyed his displeasure in a fucking Da Vinci code of a body language and expected Helix to notice.

When he forgot to do dishes- when he didn’t come back in time for dinner- when he didn’t know WM would be home waiting for him on Christmas. The redhead never said anything, just quietly waited to be furious, expected to be disappointed. And it’s one time too many they played this game. Helix was too drained, too desperate to be angry.

All those fears about WM and his friends not getting along, turned out Helix thought too far ahead.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could muttered. “I’m sorry I assume you would just come. But I really want you to meet Lucianna and Simon, I want them to meet you. We still have time if you pack now….”

It was only a week, shove a few pairs of clean underwear and formal clothes into the bag and we can buy the rest when we landed, was what Helix meant to ramble on. WM cut him short.

“I can’t miss my labs.”

And Helix can’t miss his flight. Watermelon was impossible to deal with when he sulked. That was the end of the conversation.

Instead of dealing with him then and there, once and for all, five hours after he landed Helix let Lucianna posted the video on his Facebook wall.

.

It was The Last Resort.

'The Last Resort' was the plan Helix executed after ‘Leave As Much Voicemails As He Physically Could’, didn't work. He executed that one during the drive to the airport. Had a restless sleep on the plane. And once he landed, he was forced to use the more desperate measure of ‘Begging Watermelon Through His Sister’.

Mistral McDonnell has been sympathetic, and perhaps a little uncomfortable, when he called. Nevertheless, she had promised to talk to WM for him.

Not ten minutes after he hung up, she called back and informed him that 'brother was very cross you used your phone while driving.' Nothing else to report. She was very sorry her brother decided not to make the trip.

And so Helix deemed it the time for The Last Resort.

.

Helix saw them as soon as he pushed the bungalow door open, crowding each other on the couch despite the three-people space it offered. Christain Bale was killing Jared Leto to Hip to be Square on the screen, and Lucianna and Sigmoid looked quite peaceful.

The two arrived at The Camp before Helix, what with the time difference and flight schedule. Lucianna checked them all under the same bungalow. The accommodation was suppose to hold five people each. With the absence of WM, it would just be Helix, Lu, Sigmoid and some poor sod who was doomed to be their fourthwheel.

Sigmoid and Lucianna had known, even before Helix boarded the plane, about the 'little misunderstanding' that happened between him and WM. So when they looked up at him for his entrance, he couldn't quite stop himself from giving them the most pathetic, sheepish smile.

In return, he received a snort from Lucianna. Sigmoid just kind of.... stared at him.

“He’s kind of a dick,” Sig  finally offered. And that was it. That was all. No dramatic slow-motion of them jumping into each other’s arms. No heart-warming reunion scene with coming-of-age music playing in the background. Helix gave them a dry smile, Lu gave him a snort, Simon insulted his not-boyfriend.

Then they headed to the Orientation.

.

The opening event offered little to naught sciencing. They have been expecting this, but Helix can't say that he wasn't disappointed. Orientation night start off with wine and cheese and people bumping around introducing themselves to each other in accented English. Lucianna, who somehow managed to secure a glass of Martini in the strictly fermented-grapes-only event, waltz around the room in the royal demeanour, leaving Helix and bored-looking Sigmoid to trail after her.

"Excuse me, are you... are you Nicolas Oxford?" An uncertain voice came from behind the three of them. Lucianna turned back in a snap.

To the girl's credit, she did not run away from Lu's deadly glare. More of, she waited until Helix gave her an 'uh, yeah,' before honest-to-god trying to jump him.

"I need to talk to you about your paper." She said, hand reached out as if to touched him and stopped herself midway before it could happen. The action repeated itself as frantically as her words. "I mean, can I? I could buy you a drink.... I mean for later, after all these free wine they're giving us. I can't believe you're here. I mean, it makes sense... gosh, I'm saying 'I mean' a lot, ain't I?"

It took almost five minutes, because she had to tell him about how starstruck she was to have met him, and then tell him about how she has read every of his paper, and then start telling him that she doesn't believe a single thing the tabloid has to said about the exploitation he had done in his youth. At this point, Helix just stood there scratching the tip of his nose, unable to do anything other than feeling more exhausted than ever.

In the end it was Lucianna who simply walked away from them, Sigmoid followed her. Helix took that as his cue to grin at the overly-excited girl and told her he has to go.

"I can't believe people haven't forget." Lucianna said to him accusingly- which... Helix really failed to see how this is his fault. "You can't be that fam-"

"Hey, aren't you that guy who wrote the paper on quantum statistical properties of radiation?"

"-mous. God fucking damn it."

Helix beamed at Lucianna, then replied a little too smugly to the inquirer, "and many other wonderful things. Pleasure to meet you." He completed that with a little mocking bow.

"Cool," he cocked his head to a side, as if in deep thought. Then added, "I heard you fucked a lot of celebrities." And left.

Lucianna's grin was positively demeaning.

"That sums it up, doesn't it, that guy who wrote that paper and fucked a bunch of celebrities." Helix muttered, "I'm way too calm for this. Do you think I'm in shocked?"

Simon shrugged. Lucianna refused to shut her her goddamn smile. Life goes on.

It was not after they met three more eager 'fans' that the realisation drawn on them that everybody in The Camp knows Helix. Or at least know of him. If not by his name then definitely his face from the countless scoops of his glamorous young life.

Lucianna's scowl turned into a subtle hidden expression of sympathy. Sigmoid's composure started cracking. The longer time ticked by, the closer the two of them plastered themselves next to Helix's side.

Helix felt a little like he's being escorted out of the pub after getting caught underage-drinking. He's also more than a little grateful for his friends.

For the first time since this trip started, Helix was glad WM didn’t make it.

.

The actual program did not start until the next day and until then, everybody was free to do go wherever, do whatever and whomever they wish once they’re done with the dinner.

With some alcohol already in their system, most people skipped the dinner and headed to the pub.

'It's Wine and Cheese, Meet and Greet," some leery nerds was chatting Lucianna up earlier. Helix noticed how his eyes failed to leave the general area of her breasts as he added, 'Fine Dinin’ and Grindin, you up for it?’

She skipped the dinner and jump ahead to shots.

Sigmoid had not expect Helix to abstain from all intoxication. But after the... wide recognition he received, he did expect Helix to at least tried to be discreet in his drinking habit.

Matching Lucianna shots to shots was not, in Sigmoid's definition, a discrete act.

He glared at Lucianna.

"The ‘No, Helix’ing isn’t my job,” she said almost defensively, then signalled the bartender for three more shots. "You do it."

So much for the subtlety. He thought, refocused his eyes back to Helix, managed to sound as unimpressed as he was feeling when he said, "really? This is what you're doing? Are you-"

“-of legal age to consume alcohol without parental supervision? Why yes.” Helix responded, knocking his shot glass on Lucianna's, spilling both their alcohol in the process. “You can run my card.”

“You’d be surprised when you see the number on there," Lucianna chimed in, throwing back her drink dutifully. "Can't really tell from the level of immaturity and amount of pining he's been doing."

Helix faked a pained grasp at that. Hands clutching on his heart, he moaned, "your words are all knifes and daggers, Lu. The deepest pit of my soul- the furthest, most vulnerable part of my heart, you've hurt it. And now it's weeping like a child."

"Only reaffirming my point, Oxford.”

“Then it was my pleasure to be of assistance, Miss Michaels.” Helix sighed ruefully, then clinked his newly filled shot glass with her in solemn manner.

Sigmoid was seriously contemplating catching up with them on the number of shots. Looking at all the empty glasses in front of him, he tried to remember if this was a first place he’s been to that serves shots of vodka in real, heavy glass rather than those flimsy plastic cup.

Looking around, he wondered if the resort should have opted for those cheap alternatives for a night.

“Alcoholism is a real problem, you know?” He said, while single out a cigarette from his pack, started knocking the filtered side on the wooden counter.

"Oh, please. I'm switching to cocktail after this one," Lucianna drawled, then lazily pointed at Helix. "He's getting more shots, though."

Helix grinned, "I'm a man with pending mission."

"Whatever that means." Sigmoid murmured, still can't decided if he actually wants to know whatever that means.

"My mission," Helix said, raising his glass- "The Last Resort." -knocked it down.

"Saying that in ominous voice won't raise any suspense on my part." Simon said, "neither would speaking like Yoda."

"Get WM to come over, I think I can," Helix countered in slightly raised voice. Then smiled brightly at him. "This, dear Simon, is how you speak like Yoda."

Lucianna gave a snicker, but she was as interested as he was if her shifted glance tells him anything. She sneered, "drinking yourself to death so he would come to your funeral?"

"Funeral comes after," Helix said easily. "I  have to get him pissed enough to come over and kill me first."

Somewhere within earshot, he heard a sound of glass smashing followed by a yelled, 'ANOTHER!', confirming his initial concern.

Simon was now more worried about the fact that he understood that old-age movie reference.

"Or, you know, get him to worry. WM have the paternal instinct of a mama bear," Helix added. "If I fuck up badly enough, he'd be all over me."

“Do you guys ever just talk to each other?” Asked Lucianna, reaching out to collect the empty shot glasses to stack them into tower.

“We have sex.”

"Not for a week, you're not."

"Why must you be so rude?"

The conversation digressed after that. They picked up from where the last letter left off as if there was never a delay between then and now. The bar got rowdier by the later hours, the regular resort guests finally gave in to the colonisation by university students- there were nothing in the 'verse to stop them.

"I never understood the stereotype that nerds don't know how to party," Lucianna mused, looking at a kid who looked way too young to even be allowed to leave his crib climbing up the music stage and declaring it his by threatening to pee on it. "These guys would chug down a pint of gasoline and came out even stronger." He picked up a microphone and, again, threaten to pee on the stage if the resort staff doesn't turn on the sound system.

The karaoke went on in full swing after that. The three of them observed the commotion with condescending silence. Because they've lived that scene way too young and now feel nothing but detachment towards it.

Or not.

After observing the stage for five songs, Helix finally got up from his stool. It would be more accurate to say he fell off of it but picked himself up quickly enough to not be too embarrassing. "I'm about to do something very, very stupid," he announced.

Words that would have came off in better tone had it been said by an old western movie star. Instead, it came out of Helix's mouth as a slur as he swayed left and right pinballing into everybody in his path...

...heading to the karaoke stage.

Lucianna, stoic in her intoxication, did nothing to stop him. So sigmoid took it in his stride to go after Helix.

Trying to get off the high stool resulted in him almost crashing his face to the expensive wood floor. From above him, there was a snicker from Lucianna.

“No shit,” he bit back at her.

When he managed to straighten himself, Helix had already made it to his destination. He beamed blindingly at them from across the room as he shouted into the microphone, “don’t forget to take video!”

From that point on, the worst secondhand-embarrassment Simon has ever experience commenced.

.

Mistral called Helix in the morning.

Helix was already up, though with great difficulty. His first workshop started in ten minutes and Helix was still drunk enough to not feel his hangover. There might be some hope left for him to make his entrance to the workshop as dignified as possible.

“…’llo?” He said into the silence at the other side of the line. Mistral had said nothing since he picked up.

“Oh,” Mistral sounded as if she was jolt of her thought. “I’m sorry, Helix. I’m just not sure what to say.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Did your brother tell you to call?”

There was a pause.

“Yes,” she admitted meekly. “He was concerned.”

In his head, Helix dropped to his knees with tears streaming down his face and praised the cosmic intervention that allowed his plan to come to fruition. In the world of living, though, he cracked the most obscene, most sinister grin.

“Did he say he was coming?”

"Helix,” her voice came up louder than usual, filled with distress “Did you consent the video being posted?”

Helix blinked.

Oh.

So it seemed that instead of riling up just one McDonald, he got another one worrying after him.

A quick warmth spread through his chest, a hard tug at certain string inside of him. It left behind those odd, cooling feelings. Not the shivering winter chill but rather the taste of peppermint candy or freshly made lemonade soda in hot August afternoon.

Not that Helix was antiquated with those taste and feeling, but it was what he imagined the feeling to equated.

For a moment, he forgot about all- the plan he has been cooking up, the absence of a certain redhead and the hangover that starting to creep up on him along with the sobriety.

He simply thought, that he was entirely enamoured with this girl.

"Don't worry about it, Princess." He smile softly, "I know what I'm doing."

“Do you know what has been posted on your Facebook?”

Helix could not give her an affirmation on that without giving a lie. He vaguely remember what he did. The drunken rendition of Miss Moving On- his high notes would put the gremlin to shame and he messed up half of the lyrics. He hope it was his just imagination he sang to a plate filled with bite-size watermelon (it's what he felt a clever symbolism looks like at a time).

He had no intention of revisit the video to find out how it actually went down.

“Don’t worry about me.” Helix said, “give your brother my love.”

Mistral would surely pass that along. Watermelon would be so pissed.

And because that simply would not be enough, after Helix hung up from Mistral, he posted a Facebook status saying: Don’t accept an experimental hangover remedy from the biologist, you’d think you have already throw up all your guts but there would be more.

It didn't even took him long to come up with that one, he made it to the workshop just five minutes after it has started.

.

That night, when his gang have sufficiently recover from the nagging hangover, at the Hour Not Too Late But Early Enough To Imply Alcoholism, Lucianna posted “It’s your turn to hold his hair if he throw up again.” on Sigmoid’s Facebook wall.

“You forget to tag him,” Sigmoid called from the front door, plastic bags filled with the still fuming Chinese takeout in one hand, the other scrolling through his notification feed. “The guy wouldn’t see it if it’s not on Helix’s wall.”

“Isn’t it too strange, anyway, to post this on Facebook when we’re supposedly drinking together.” Lucianna says without looking up from the screen, fingers tap away to what Helix assume to be tagging him in her recent post. “I don’t do this.”

“We want to rat him out, publicly humiliate him, allegedly.”  A shrug from Simon. “People do it all the time, I don’t think anybody’s gonna question it.”

“If he really wanted Red come running, he could have checked in at some strip club.”

“You don’t know Watermelon, he sulk when he’s jealous.” Helix said as he snatched the plastic bag off Sigmoid’s grip. "Did you order chow mien? WM never let  me have that. He says it's too much carbs."

The post built up Likes quickly, presumably an act of solidarity from people who actually went out drinking tonight. Sigmoid typed a reply to the post tagged to him (think we need to hire him a babysitter. how did he manage to survive this long), after much thought.

Watermelon would be tearing a pillow into half when he reads that.

“I see that you truly understand him, which is why- Simon, grab me a bottle too- which is why you opted for manipulating him into running after you rather than call him up and apologize.” Their phones buzzed at the same time, Cindy Walker commented on the post you’re tagged in: Isn’t he suppose to be inventing time machine over there?

“I will tell you when he picks up my call.” Simon Wells commented on the post you’re tagged in: Science might not sleep, but out of office hrs we drink.

"You guys are ridiculous." Sigmoid said as he peered into the fridge.

"It's Helix that is ridiculous," Lucianna corrected him. "Red is just a little hysterical."

"The make-up sex is ridiculously good," Helix grinned. "It's phenomenal. Trust me, it's all worth it."

All three of them sat down around the dining table, peering down at their phone. For a moment there was absolute silence. Soft blue glow bathed their stern feature painted the picture as if they're saying grace. Finally, Lucianna tossed her phone on the table in dismissal and grab the box of takeout nearest to her.

“So,” she started as her fingers worked their way in peeling off the paper lid. The smell of under-seasoned consumable form of racism filled the entire room, bringing back some sort of nostalgia. After years of living with WM, Helix almost forget how inspiringly awful these noodles can be. “Are we having fun?”

"Sure," Sigmoid replied, apparently accepting Cindy's friend request.

Helix, who was allegedly already blackout drunk, stabbed his plastic fork on overcooked single prawn amongst sea of soggy noodle, it was rubbery and devoid of taste. He looked up to his friends, and said. “Let’s watch Star Trek.”

.

By morning, Helix admitted to himself that the bait didn't work.

He didn't hear from Mistral, didn't get words from the Fruit Gang. He resigned on working harder on being self-destructive, making notes and plans in his head.

But when it finally happened, it entirely wasn't meant to be. It was just an unintentionally incident, the beautiful, marvellous, 'the universe love him and wants him to bone Ran McDonnell' chance.

The Unintentional came in a form single photo of his team being posted on The Camp official Facebook page.

Stacks of blueprints and papers occupying every working space of theirs. Cans of energy drinks, sponsored by The Camp, of course, both whole and crushed scattered around the table, leaving stained of sweet syrup on every surface it touched.

Some of the uncrushed can of energy drinks have Red Vine stuck in it, serving purpose of being the most awesomest straw ever (not his words). Sure, some of the candy was left there limbless and half-bitten in the saddest way anybody could ever imagine red licorice to be sad. It only added to the effects.

Helix was knocked out on the keyboard, drooling a little as his right hand laid on the mouse and his left clutched tight on the handle of two coffee pots. Next to him, Lucianna had her legs drawn on the chair, both her knees probed against the edge of table, chair lifted off the floor a little. From the outsider's perspective, it must have seem like she was only closing her eyes for a few second- catching a little break.

But the fact was that between the three of them, it was only Sigmoid who was still awake. He can be seen on the far off corner of the picture, the reading glasses fell too low on the bridge of his nose, one hand reached out for the pyramid of sugar cubes. His eyes were glossy and unfocused, unaware that the picture was being taken.

The Camp dauntlessly captioned the picture: two men down after 52th hours, how long can you go without sleep?- no fear of getting sued for overworking minors.

When Helix woke up, there was a text.

'Don't go out tonight. Get some proper fucking sleep -WM'

He let out the most hysterical, satisfied laugh. It startled Lucianna to wake just seconds before her chair toppled and she crashed to the ground. And Helix could just laughed.

How about that.

.

"So it worked," Helix announced, throwing his phone on the table for Sigmoid to see. Lucianna was still on the floor, just a mess of sprayed limps and confusion. "WM was furious." Then he put his both hands to his face, attempted to look like a blushing maiden, "he texted me to get some sleep."

Sigmoid glanced over his reading glasses, spared him a glance before turning to Lucianna.

"Can you check my calculations?" He called out offhandedly to the girl who was collecting herself while going ow, ow, what the fuck, ow. "At this rate, we could assemble the pieces tomorrow and do the test drive in about two days time."

"We could assemble it now, test it tomorrow." Lucianna said, now up on two feet but still looking slightly confused. "Helix's probably ran out of ideas to piss Red off, anyway. So it's about time."

"Awww, Lu, you do ca-"

"Just shut up." She snapped, still massaging the back of her head.

If it surprised Sigmoid that Lucianna was so invested in Helix's scheme, he didn't mentioned it. Instead, he checked the calculation, passed it over to Lucianna to see them over and finally hand it to Helix for the final equation-proof.

"You think this is gonna work?" He asked quietly.

"If it doesn't, I'm jumping off the bridge next."

"I'm asking about the indestructible car we're making," Simon said, somehow offended. "You're such a tool."

.

Between the assembling of their project, Helix posted a photo of the charcoaled microwave- his charcoaled microwave on Facebook.

The caption read 'It's science if you write it down. It's also science if The Camp insurance covers it.'

There was no calls nor texts from WM.

But Helix was aiming for something bigger, anyway.

.

Between promising the engineering majors some unthinkable favours in exchange of their help on Helix's group project (how ridiculous was it that they have three theoretical experts on the team and none can build) and recalibrating his calculations, Helix made sure to keep up with his builds up.

He spread rumours. There were words about him getting arrested for DUI (this part was not true), and a vague Facebook status of him thanking Pitaya for introducing him to the 'connection' (neither was this part). There were rumours about him getting severe cold from skinning dipping in almost minus degree (this part was partially true), and him getting arrested again for public exposure (so was this part).

Helix's Facebook page hasn't been so active for years.

WM, for once, took up a saintly patience and return none of his calls or texts.

The redhead's ego must have took a sizable amount of damage when he shoot Helix the first text two days ago.

Between then and now, Helix made it a point to not get a wink of sleep. He did it effortlessly; attended all the panels, accepted all the free energy drinks, reviewed the notes from conference when he isn't needed in the workshop, accepted all those shady pills from the medics and made sure to never make eye contact with those said medics.

And just like that, two days passed. Their project completed for now. Completed until they test it and take down the result and have to do everything all over again with a slight change in detail.

The curse of being a scientist.

"We're live," Lucianna called from where she was sitting, eyes tracking the increasing number of viewers dutifully. "Everybody we needed is logged in. Are you ready?"

Behind the wheel, Helix gave her a thumb-up completed with a grin. It was Sigmoid, who was sat beside her, that asked uneasily, "don't you think we are overdoing it?"

"Have faith in your own calculation, Simon, and stop shaking your legs." Lucianna replied nonchalantly. "The idiot wanted this, we comply"

"Is Red even watching?"

"Helix's quite confident he is, either an extreme case of narcissism or our boy's obsession is reciprocated and he knows it." Lucianna said thoughtfully, then added, "we will see after the crash."

Sigmoid stood up and faced the camera, he explained about the impact-absorbing material they have been working on for The Camp project and how they had layered the whole goddamn car with the material. He rambled a little about the theory behind it and how the calculation came to be. Finally, he turned to Helix, and gave a slight nod.

No other signal needed, Helix grinned widely,then took his feet off the brake, slammed the gas pedal, and ran himself into the concrete wall.

.

Helix felt his body shot forward with great force, then momentarily halted before the seatbelt tugged him back as the airbag inflated in his face.

His whole body jackknifed, it felt as if somebody stomps on his guts with combat boots. He knew an impressive bruise would start blooming there, soon after. Even so, the small fact that he was still alive proved the experiment to be successful- the fact that he was still quite conscious and received no broken bones (he thinks?) proved that all their calculations were right on track.

Still hurt like a bitch, though.

Outside his car, he heard Sigmoid conclude the experiment. The car was not damaged beyond some dent that could be overlooked, he report. Unfortunately, it seems that the crash still inflict some damage to the driver. The alloy has not been able to absorb as much impact as we hypothesize. The team would arrange the second trial run after the appropriate improvement has been made on the material.

The unsaid implication was that Helix would, again, be behind the wheel for the second test. Helix would give Sigmoid a high-five if he wasn't trying to subdue the pain in his general upperbody.

There was a knock on the car window, Lucianna was behind it, holding a buzzing phone in her hand for him to see. Her mouth read, "are you gonna take it?"

Helix tried to regulate his breath as he push the button to roll down the window. Tried hard to ignore the throbbing pain in his abdomen, he cranked out, "hey."

The reply came as a stream of curse, the foreign language of familiar voice, And Helix drank in how normal this is.

The rant ended quicker than he expected, and lo, it ended in English.

"...fucking kidding me. I refuse to be believe you just did that, you motherfucker."

"Watermelon?” Helix's voice was too hopeful even in his ears.

“No, you sod, it’s the bloody Pope. Your level of stupidity call for exorcising.  What the fuck has gotten into you..."

Helix laughed, it hurt his ribs a bit. “Are you coming over?”

“… you need a fucking babysitter. You need a fucking keeper. Somebody to tell you when to sleep and when to shower. Someone to feed you and regulate your caffeine intake and  fucking stop you from putting whatever shit you put in that microwave..."

“Watermelon”

“…and the fucking car, I swear...

“Please?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a slight panting. And Helix can't help but imagine WM. Angry WM. Concerned WM- watching his video, biting down his lips til it bleeds, overcoming his pride and finally picking up the damn phone, because after all, Helix is important enough for all that.

Important enough for the answer...

“Yes, I'm coming over. Go get some fucking sleep. You look like shit.”

.

Watermelon loomed over Helix, his body cast a sinister shadow over the blonde who remained asleep peacefully.

True to his order, Helix sleeps. Before he got here, WM was so angry he could feel blood boiling up in his vein. Now, though, all he can do was just to look at Helix- face slacked, all muscle loose and relaxed, just... asleep.

It was exactly what he told the idiot to do. But after 11 hours of speeding through motorway, the redhead can't help but feel a bit angry at how at peace the blonde look.

A few more minutes of brooding from WM's side, Helix stirred from his sleep- probably because he felt the instant where the air around him got positively murderous.

“Watermelon?” He called, slowly lifting his head from the pile of blankets that WM was hoping was choking him. "You're here," he beamed sleepily- the lazy, post-orgasmic sort of satisfaction, of someone who had slept fully.

Which WM did not.

He glared at the blonde, who after a few more moment of rubbing his face in the warmth of bedding, lifted himself up to face him. WM reached out, grabbed Helix by his neck, and crushed his lips against him.

Helix tasted like Red Bull and the 11 hours he slept off, it was the disgusting sort of sweetness, and WM drank it all up.

When he pulled apart, Helix was gasping for air a little, but his eyes shone with triumph.

The redhead ignored all that. Instead, he threw himself at the available space on the bed next to Helix. The redhead buried his face in the pillow and fall fast asleep. Leaving Helix, who was now awake, to look at him thoughtfully.

They are going to have a very serious talk later. WM would probably sulk, but it wouldn't matter, since he was here now. And after all is said and done, Helix would get him in good enough a mood, then he would introduce him to Sig and Lu.

Sigmoid has his back pressed against Lucianna, pushing back too hard not to hurt her. He sits between her open legs, his cheek presses into her nape. Their skin slapped together uncomfortably by sheath of sweat. His breath sounds ragged in his own ears, the urgency of it got him feeling more panic and uncontrolled. Sigmoid tries to steady his breath, but the scent that enveloped them both got him more intoxicated.

He has both his hands on Lucianna's thighs, handful of her flesh in his grip. Come tomorrow her skin will bloom dark purple but Lucianna doesn't comment on it. Instead, she whispers soothing sound into his ear- her sharp nails carding through his hair, untangling the lump that drenches with cold sweats. 

He's shivering- no, shaking- trembling. The light from ceiling feels too bright even from behind the blindfold. Every strand of his muscles tighten, strained to the aching point. Periodically, Sigmoid's whole body spasm, as if shocked with electricity. He burns hot and cold and wishes more than anything that he would soon pass out.

Somewhere from the edge of his conscious, Lucianna told him to breathe. Sigmoid chokes on her command. The air is filled with his musk, her scented, sweat, salt, tear, magnolia- snowballing back and forth in all way unsuppressed. She kisses him like it's a reward and momentarily he drowns in its sweetness; gentle kisses on eyelid, on his cheek, on his nose. Soft touches. Her mercy.

Tears fall from his eyes, caught on the fabric that barred him from the physical world. Shame flushes his entire body. He is scared, and he whimpers as much- with his face buried further in her skin and his words indistinguishable from his sobbing.

From below, Kaiser chuckles, sending unbearable vibration through his cock.

The man let go of him with a loud pop, but left his fingers deep inside Simon, scissoring mechanically. "He looks like he's going to pass out," the words registered, but Simon knows better than to think it's addressed to him. They never talk to each other, not even in a time like this. "Most people could only dream of the day they give a blowjob so good it wrench the other guy unconscious."

Lucianna answers him. He tries to catch the tone of her voice but failed. While the Kaiser's voice rings so clearly in his head, Simon couldn't make any sense out of Lucianna's reply.

"Tell him to relax, would you?" Kaiser's voice comes back. ""He acts like he's being tortured." With a sharp twist of his wrist, Kaiser's finger jams into his prostate. Simon screams. "But, see, he likes it."

His throat hurts. His eyes are burning. His muscles.... his body... everything hurts.

"Look at how he's gaping," the man goes on narrating. "Times like these, I wish I have a cunt." A pause, then, "you're gonna give it a go?"

Another muted murmur from Lucianna. Before Sigmoid could wonder what Kaiser has meant, he is passed over. Lucianna gently nudge him off her body, handing him to Kaiser. The man removed his hand from inside Simon's, he has to. Simon's feel his throat clenches up at the loss of both contact, tears that hasn't quite dried wells up again.

A pair of strong hands- too strong, too masculine to be Lucianna's- flips him over. The grip feels more threatening when he can't see or know Kaiser's intention. The man kept his grip on Simon's neck, not quite a strangle yet. Simon fears it's only a matter of time. He feels Kaiser straddles him, pressing him face down on the mattress.

Simon kicks. He tries to break free from the weight on his body but instead, he just trembles- lost.

"Shhhh, I'm here." Lucianna's voice ring beside his ear. Suddenly he feels the warmth of her presence surrounding him again. He wants to crawl into her, but Kaiser holds him back, kept him in place.

His touch feels alien.

Lucianna places her hand on either of his cheek. She feels so cool, so out of this world; and so loving, like a mother would care her sick child. Lucianna tilts his face upward and kisses him. Simon drinks her in so gratefully like she is the blood of eternal life, the one true drink he could ever received. It is an offered touch that transport him to other world, and it is over before he could wish to die for it.

The cool hands remain, they guide him downward- down to similar warm, wet sensation. He opens up wholly and consume her, for her flesh is the true food. For it's her body she breaks and offers. For he uses his hunger and his thirst to serve her. 

For she transubstantiates.

Her hand moves up to his hairline, pulling, gripping, as he his tongue tastes deeper into her body. Her breath gets more ragged as he feels more slickness dripping down his chin. He gulps down what she gives yieldingly, licking her body how he's been trained. 

From behind, Kaiser's voice breaks their communion. "All set?" He asks, with such smugness in his voice that tells Simon the interruption has been deliberated.

He hates that voice in his ears: the voice that reminds him they were not alone.

"Are you ready, kid?" That voice sing-songs. Kaiser gives a wicked pause. Sigmoid can feel his breath against his ear before the man gives a deep chuckle. Then comes a command, ‘scream.’

And despite himself, Simon did. The pain is sharp and clustered, his stretched hamstrings, his fingerprinted wrists, his body being penetrated. Simon shouts hoarsely into Lucianna as Kaiser drives him to hilt. His inside might have been slicked and teased earlier but Kaiser still have to push himself past where Simon resists.

It hurts, Simon thinks. it hurts, it hurts. it hurts. 

Lucianna's touch gets more demanding with her arousal. Simon feel droplets of blood seeping through his hairline as she pulls him in closer as hard as Kaiser slams into him. Blinded, he can no longer find difference between two pairs of hands, of which touch he should love and whom he should loathe. So Simon relish in all: pleasure that washes over him, disgust that cradles him and the absolute sense of worship he has for the body wrapping around his.

Lucianna push his face in even deeper, deeper, until it's too hard to breathe. The sea of musk filled his nostril in place of oxygen and his lungs crushed under the weight of nothing. Simon's vision sparkles; neuron shoots like fireworks behind his closed eyes. Ecstasy feels like pins and needles in the state of hypoxia and he craves more. He wants to touch her, to spread her legs even wider and feasts

Lucianna's body spasms for long before goes limp. Simon thinks of the way she bit hard on her lips when she comes, how her whole body shakes. Simon can hear her scream in his head so clearly like a memory being replayed.

His whole world turns white. His orgasm shoots through him like bullet being put through his head. He is dead, out of his body. The world feels like hallucination with colors boosted tenfold and all sound a white noise. 

When he come to, Lucianna's finger is carding through his hair tiredly. She basks in afterglow, away in other world too and not quite back yet. His face still buried in her cunt, he is still asphyxiated. His body twitches in random pace from the aftershock.

He is truly alone with Kaiser now, and all too weak- too tired to be scared. His fingers clenched into the white sheets, so hard his bones grind into each other- that is his last resort of energy. Simon focuses on how slowly his fingers lose their grip rather than how his body hitched further up the bed each time Kaiser thrusts.

With the stimulation, Simon feels himself getting hard again. He sobs helplessly, gasping for air.

Lucianna whispers soothing sounds into his ear.

She moves his head onto her lab into more comfortable position. Her finger plays at his lips, now glossy with her cum, then move back to carding his hair. She comforts him like she did when they started, only now he lies in a pool of cum with his face soaked with tear and sweat the dripped from soaking blind. He cries out each time Kaiser hits his prostate. Glimpses of white light sparks behind his closed eyes.

Simon almost drifts out of conscious when he hear muttering, "shit. Shit! I wanna-" Kaiser pants, "I wanna come all over you."

He unloads all his cum in him.

Everything was a blur after that. Simon's body pulses gently. Tired, so tired, too tired to move. He thought he might be in shock as he slowly withdraws himself from his surrounding.

Sometimes between his restless sleep and wake, Simon hears the sound of water running. He hears Lu and Kaiser chats quietly, peacefully, lovingly, with Lucianna stroking his cheek with her knuckle all the while. He remembers being left alone on the bed. He remembers someone coming back for him; Lucianna and her Magnolia. Scents of Polo Black terrorizes the whole room even after Kaiser left.  

When he woke up again, he is cleaned- free of any evidence from the night before save for some bruise. He's even wearing trousers, the worn out pair he always wear to bed. Lucianna protectively cradle his skull to her breast. He listens to her heart beats as her chest heaves up, down, up, down... rhythmically. Kaiser is nowhere in sight.

Was his memory a picture from the night before, or has it been a week. Time fails him. Sigmoid lays awake thinking about how he wishes time would stop right at this moment. When the morning light feels soft and birds sing their song. Lucianna's face is lit by the light so ethereally, and she looks so peaceful. No, time will continue on, and what happened last night would be just the first of many. 

Above him, Lucianna grunts, as if sensing his discomfort. She looks more tranquil, more kindly in her sleep. She doesn't always look like that. Only when she's deep as sleep and, this he discovered too recently, when he's in bed with Kaiser.

He should feel angry for getting dragged into this whole business. Started off as her toy, now she passes him on to her husband. Lucianna took advantage of his feeling, of their friendship, of what wouldn't have have started if not for another person who isn't here.

Yet another time he lives to clean up after Helix. Though this time he has to admit he is part of the mess. He's never foresee how complicated their relationship would get- the three of them. Not even with Helix's 'I'm so grateful to have you with me, Simon.'

Why is his life so closely intertangle, so affected by him? The image of Helix in Simon's memory would always be that blue-eyed boy who smile at him innocently even though he is nothing of such. 

Lucianna has been cold back then, but now she's the only warmth he could get.

She misses Helix too. They both do.

That bastard broke them, and they're left to pick up pieces of each other. He knows Helix didn't do it intentionally. Helix didn't really do anything. But the simple fact that they've met... just the fact that they know him, it changed their life. Helix probably doesn't how big an impact he's made. What he doesn't know, he can't fix.

Simon could never be angry at Helix, nor could he with Lucianna. The real question is if he should pin his anger on Kaiser.

------

That is the moment their song came to an end. Lucianna falls quiet. A temporary truce.

If Lucianna is skeptical of what he said, she hid it well as she gives a slight curtsy. The tune for the next dance starts almost immediately, giving the dancers a silver lining chance of getting away. And lucianna would have jump on that chance, if Kaiser doesn’t pull her back into the dance steps, every so gently.

"Listen," Kaiser cocked his head to the side, as if pointing out the music notes floating around them. "It's our first dance."

And he is right. The waltz that is played in the background really is the song they danced to for the first time as married couple. He remember picking it out with her; vinyls after vinyls carefully placed on the platter until both of them were bored enough with pretending to care and made agreement on one neutral song. Kaiser is not the type who dreamt-about-his-wedding-since-he-was-a-little-girl, but he did hope for something more energetic- something not waltz.

But something this stuck-up and stern is quite appropriate for them, he finds.

Kaiser hums cheerily and takes the liberty to sway her off their practice steps. It made them look a more convincing lover- a newly-wedded  having a good time. "We could have been so in love if you didn't wear his ring around your neck when you walked down the aisle."

Lucianna's glare is piercing.

"Oh, come on." He keeps his tone casual, genuine. "Lucie, darling, you really are too defensive. I'm just being conversational."

"But not so sociable," she shoots back, but without any heat. He can see her shoulders ease as she says calmly, "Simon and I are not like that."

"Sure, the magic of friendship. It’s so wonderful and ambiguous. who would dare slapping a label on something so pure?" He pretends to ponder, "I think 'adulterer' would still works, though, since you guys are sleeping together." Then he pretends to sigh. "Shit, sorry, I did it again."

Lucianna did not snapped at him. Rather, she gives a tired sigh, as if she finally remember that he is just an asshole and that his teasing bear no threats. It always takes him a sensible amount of work winding her up until she recall this small piece of trivia.

Lucianna tightens her grip on his shoulder. She steps closer- right into his space- and announces, "you're not sorry. And you're not even trying."

He smiles, and gives her a kiss on the temple which she almost fight away like a sullen child, "I guess I'm not."

They are not always so hostile. These days, he always have to act like a brute to her if he wants to have a proper conversation afterwards. He knows what’s going on. He knows that she needs some sort of confirmation, that she can have what she have with her boyfriend. The whole sob story of neglectful, abusive husband makes the infidelity she’s committing easier to sympathize.

Frankly, he doesn’t give two fucks who she brings to their bed, Lucianna needed an excuse to make herself less guilty.

He knows how Lucianna and himself works. She gets more indiscreet and aggressive with her adultery the more guilty she feels. And simply because he is a terrible bully, he prodes. He pushes her into the corner like he did tonight and many days before.

He knows where it hurts. He knows how hard to press just before her skin breaks. And Lucianna might make an attempt to fight back, just on the surface. But in her conscious he knows she's carrying her cross. 

But they’re not always like this.

There were quiet nights they shared over pot of coffee and stack of legal documents. When they started out, Lucianna restocked his scotch as often as their maid did the milk. He used to carry around a lighter, just for her. It’s been years since he touches nicotine and the most he allowed himself these days is wisp of smoke from her hair.

He meant every words when he said they could've worked out. It is terribly easy to fall in love with her, with the serenity in their co-existence. But if anyone ask whether he is in love with her, he would refuse in a heartbeat.  

Because she won't ever love him back, not the way he loves her boyfriend, anyway. So why bother.

If it ain’t broke, why fix it.

"You know, if you want to pick a bone." Lucianna's voice snaps him back to the gala, "it was you who started off on wrong foot."

"Oh?"

"Don't you remember how you proposed?"

He hides a smile. "Won’t you remind me?"

Lucianna looks dead straight into his eyes as she quotes, "'Okay. Let's do this thing, then.” Her right brow arches, as if daring him to deny it. “That was what you said."

Kaiser lifts his hand off her waist to wipe away non-existent tears while he chokes on non-existent sentiment, "you remember."

She doesn’t laugh.

"It's quite cheap of you to try to guilt trip me with that, darling." He points. "We both know our marriage was a business binding more than anything. I have the decency not to sugarcoat it, think of how much harder it would have been for you if I did."

"You needed my money." She is desperate to have her last words.

"I did, and you needed my connection so you could expand the company without daddy's help." Kaiser says kindly, "don't make this difficult."

He often tell her that they're a match made in heaven. It's almost as if their story is pre-written. She was a young entrepreneur who started her own empire on her own name. She fought tooth and nail to set her company apart from her family legacy. She has fame. She has potential. More importantly, she has fund. Funds that he doesn't have.

They have met when her company was at its peak and ready to grow into an empire. To expand, she needed connections, but Lucianna absolutely did not want those contacts loaned from her father. 

He had all the names and numbers she needed, and he was so fucking broke. His newly started company was growing quicker than he had expected and there was so much meat on his bone he could carve and sell. 

He was successful and penniless. She was on her way to success, and loaded. They had made their arrangement clear. 

But now she says she wants romance. She says what she has to say to legitimize her act.

It could have been so easy, if she didn't push him to be the bad guy. "You have to stop doing the inner monologue thing you always do. It's rude." Lucianna says sullenly. Gentle smile was what Lucianna gets for a reply. She says she wants romance, Kaiser muses wickedly as he stops their dance and gets down on one knee. 

In his vaguest of recollection, Kaiser remembers himself as a little boy, his knees on hard floor and his lips spelling prayer. The habit he has long since abandoned along with the belief that God's power transcends his.

In the present, the marble under his knees is as cold as the stone tile from his memory. When he looks up, he almost remember what it feels like to have an object of worship. The collective gasps and awes comes even before his right hand reaches the object in his back pocket. A marriage proposal is, indeed, an occasion deemed socially acceptable for one stranger to barge into business of the other. Happy murmurs break around the gala, excited words carry through corridor. 

Somewhere in this room, someone would bitterly down their drinks, someone with some sensitivity would dab away their tear. Kaiser was blissfully ignorance of all these; his focus is only for the woman in front of him.

"You forgot your wedding ring," he says softly. "It's why I'm here. It's one thing to not wear your band around the house, or when you grocery shopping. But it doesn't look good for us if you're in some foreign country with another man on your arm with your ring missing. I only ask so much" Up above, Lucianna holds her lithe statue poised. Her neck tenses rigid. Her eyes drift below, only enough to spare him her barest glance. Kaiser stages a whisper, "you mentioned how terrible my first proposal was. How about a redemption?." That earned him many cooing noises. But he does not hear it and neither does Lucianna.

All he hears was the unconcealed disgust in her eyes, one that says, 'are you really going to put me through this again?' And yes, he is, just to rub the salt on the wound.

And it's back, the pure hatred she had for him. The anger he retorts with a smirk-  shamelessly fighting back. He marches into the sandstorm that unwillingly part itself for him. He stares back as if they only have eyes for each other. Now isn’t that romantic.

The ring is in his hand, catching the light from the gala. It's presenting itself in its most beautiful angle; like a cheap whore writhing and spreading her legs begging to be taken. The question does not leave his mouth. Kaiser thinks it's more appropriate to their relationship that he continues with the tradition of not asking for her hand in marriage. Rather, he says, "better take the ring, dear wife, before your boyfriend comes back in time for the commotion.

The muscle on her jaw twitches, but she offers her left hand. Kaiser takes a hold of it so carefully. 

Then he says, like it's an afterthought, "I've always wonder what you say each time to make him go away. Surely it's not, 'quick, hide. My husband is here.'" He can feels it in her fingertip, her desire to yank her hand back- to slap him, may be? He can feels her blood rushing as she struggles to contain her reflex.

The ring slits onto her ivory finger as easy as the first time. --

Kaiser knows Lucianna is surprised he left so easily after that. She really would never trust him when he says he didn't come to terrorize her. 

If only she doesn't treat him like such an idiot. It has always been her pity that irritates him. It's her guilt that makes him aggressive. She makes him want her, and want to make her life miserable.

But truly, he never plans to hurt her.

In a few years or so, if he dies before them. She is going to realise that she has been so in love with him, of how forgiving he is.

In all honesty, he left because all the performance he put out left him a little disoriented. He needs a drink, a smoke, and fresh air all at once. Instead, he turns into the bathroom for takes a long, nice piss.

He would have ignored the presence of the newcomer. Kaiser owns many properties in his line of business, but he sure as hell have no right to piss in this loo and claims it his private property.

But he looks up, simply because the footsteps stop so abruptly, so surprised, so unnatural...

Through the mirror plane, right behind him, he sees Simon Wells. Their eyes meet via the reflection.

And it rings in his head, la douler exquise.

That's the word he was looking for earlier. To want something simply you can't have it. It's quite a stretch for that definition, but he finds it laughably appropriate. Despite all of Lucianna's effort, they've met.

It's the first time he's ever seen the man in this much detail. It’s quite obvious that Simon knows who he is. Kaiser does not taunt. He makes his way to the sink without any words, twists the tap and let the water run before he put his hand under it. 

The other man freezes in place, seems to have been cursed into statue. Kaiser kept his silence as he makes Simon bleed cold sweats.

He knows there are million things he could say to the other man.

He could sarcastically advice the man to snatch up a rich young dame from this gala and run off with her money instead of his wife's. He could be a comic book villain, he could threaten the man. 

Find a girl who could love you in the eyes of public, he could say. Or he could simply offer to pay Simon to leave Lucianna alone. Would he go for something more chivalry? Something along the line of 'why don't you look me in the eyes and tell me you would fight for her'. 

Every star-crossed lover needs a good villain. And Kaiser has so many options. Sometimes life simply gives you too many opportunity.

But no, Kaiser remains quiet. It's quite difficult to be intimidating when the other guy just saw you with your cock in your hand. He might as well let the man pisses in peace.

He's already done quite enough today, anyway. --- "I'll walk," Kaiser said to nobody in particular as he leaves the building. Somebody will pick it up and his words will be passed on. There’s always somebody waiting for his words, waiting to attend to him. 

Kaiser follows the sidewalk without any destination in mind. If he wants to stop, he knows his driver would be there.

He needs to give Simon Wells some thoughts.

Kaiser doesn't believe in love. He does not believe in marriage. He'd like to think of himself as someone who is pragmatic rather than cynical. Which is why he has always hoped to get hitched anyway, with somebody he could tolerate for life. 

Instead he married a woman who treated him like a cockblocker.

The poor girl is stuck in the constant loop of wanting to lash out and wanting to bury herself in guilt. That, he knows. 

Simon Wells, though.

Kaiser thought back to Simon- to that pair eyes. Lucianna has made her choice: to carry the guilt and to fight for it. But Simon, her very partner in crime- when Kaiser looks at him, he just closes his eyes and waits to feel the wait of noose around his neck.

What a depressing couple.

The night sky is too beautiful, all these stars, he thought, craning his neck to absorb the view. Someday, he might find a nice girl and have a love like those two. Four of them can live in a drama-free, polygamous life. That tormented couple might even find happiness.

He's walking away from the hotel, further and further away. Inside, his wife is probably back in the arm of her lover. He imagines they'd embrace each other more uneasily than they were prior his arrival. He imagines their dance, how it would be ridden down by guilt, so heavy it's almost physical. He knows he could break them apart, so easily. Or he could fix this whole thing entirely, if he tries. He could end it all right now, if he wishes.

The sound of Kaiser's footstep amplifies through the hollow hallway. The whole hotel was painted in yellow-tinted marble, decorated with strands of gold. All grand and grace that the man deliberately contaminated with the scent of Polo Black. Kaiser made his way towards the gala in his own pace, his Oxford unhurriedly crushes every bit of comforting quietness the hotel carefully arranged for its guest.

He always made his entrance known. Even when the worthy audiences were absent. Up ahead, the doormen greeted him by his family name as they choreographically pulled each side of the door open. Kaiser made it a point of not acknowledging them, of course.

Servants bowed; the world opened itself for him.

If he pays attention, he might see the hair on their neck prickled, some beads of cold sweat breaks among their hairline.  

So effortlessly, they surrendered. 

He can hear the gala before he approached it. All chatting sounded like tuneless hum from this distance. Between it, he hears the sound of champagne bubbles that shooting to its surface like mini fireworks. The whole party shallowly decorated by the lively laughter of all excitable ladies. He observes them all from the entrance of the ball, just from the balcony; waiting to arrived.

The ballroom is filled with flowers, all of them soft and white; all of them blooms for the moonlight that shone through the overhead glass dome of the room. This beautifully orchestrated scene would have been ruined by a single drop of bad weather on the clear pane. But that was something servants and staffs have to fuss and worry. Not him and his kind; never them. 

Kaiser let his eyes followed the first waitress that came into his sight. She is dressed in silk vest- expensive enough to be worthy of the event, but with the cut plain enough to keep the poor girl grounded. She makes her way around the room in trained pacing; brisk, polite, absent-minded. 

From her right, a large hand shoots out and snatches a canape off of her tray. It is just a small circle of oatcake topped with whipped cream cheese. Kaiser allows his eyes to get distracted by the white mousse for a while. On it, there are green specks of chives, black specks of ground peppers, and unseen touch of salt. Three pieces of sliced strawberry sit softly on top of the cloud, and finally any space left unfilled was decorated with garnish of black caviar and spring onion. The man throws the whole bite in his mouth gracelessly, then quickly retrieves his hand to make some grand gesture accompanying the story being told. The three listeners of his are just about young and impressionable enough to latched on to his every words. Kaiser lingers on them until one of the girls excuses herself, and follows her.

She heads toward the circular marbled stage situated in the middle of the room. There was a tree growing in the middle of it. Oak, Kaiser notes to himself. So ancient and large that its singularity gave an impression of the whole forest. Apples painted in metallic gold sit among its green leaves as decoration. The combination feels unnatural and out of place; immensely beautiful. A sort of artwork anyone with sensitivity would spend days and days trying to decode.

Pieces of marble interwoven and pierced among the hard, brown flesh of the tree- forming an image of many dancing dryads about to break free from it. The music band on the stage surrounds that great oak like faithful guards. The stage itself is isolated from the whole gala by pool, a recreation of Monet's water lilies that somebody got paid handsomely to maintain. 

The water gave the impression that the band is stranded on island- is forced to sing for entertainment of the guests in exchange of their lives. Kaiser finds the mental image even more amusing as he catches the pianist on the east of stage looking longingly at the food trays being paraded around and in front of him- out of reach. Kaiser wants so badly to shout out, to make the man give in to his hunger and bolt at it. But within a blink the piano man quickly switches his expression into a polite smile. 

Curiously, Kaiser follows his gaze. It is the same belle that brought Kaiser’s attention to this stage earlier, that causes the change in the piano man. She tiptoes by the edge of lotus pool so endearingly. The waltz is coming to an end, and she seems to be requesting for particular tune to come after. And behind her, there is Lucianna.

The note of elderflower in her perfume blooms around him as quickly as he spotted her.

From this distance she might seem like just a moving figure in red dress, but he is certain that it is Lucianna.

He could with his eyes close painted the different shades of her pupils as they catch the light from chandelier. Like how he would be able to map out the language of her waltz just by the tune of music.  The image he has of her always plays out either too far away or too closed by, he doesn’t think he’s ever catch the whole picture. He never gets her as a person

He knows what her skin taste like. He also remembers the damn floral note stuck on the tip of his tongue as he wakes up in and empty bed, with Lucianna standing by the far edge of their bed with her back at him. He sees the intimacy of her naked skin and vague outline of her figure far off reach.

Exactly like now, except instead of a bare body she was in a soft satin that exposed her from nape. The fabric embraces her from her hip down to the floor. Her hair is done up, some strands let loose professionally. And rather than sinking helplessly in a post-coital void, she is basking in the afterglow of being in the arm of her lover. Kaiser watches her, asking himself:

What's that word, to want something just because you know you can't have it?

He waits, counting the steps of her dance in his head. Patiently, he waits for her man to lead her with a-one, a-two, one, two, three and....

...there. She's looking directly at him.

Kaiser lifts his hand to salute her with the champagne flute; never stop to question how or when he acquired it. Life is often like that. When you gained certain reputation and lived a certain life, you only started asking question when your hand lacks of alcohol rather than when it isn’t.

She sees him, alright. She always does. Something flashes in her eyes, some sort of understanding. She turns herself away from him, dutifully follows the march of the music until it dies down.

The whole room erupted with applause, bows and curtsies. Lucianna places her hand on the cheek of her dance partner, gently guides him down to meet her eyes. Then, her red lips by his ear, whispering. Kaiser catches glimpses of her white teeth, moving with her words like the piano key. Holding each other with such secrecy, it almost seems like the couple is conspiring against him. But no, it isn’t Simon who shares her secret. It is Simon she sent away. 

For him: her husband.

Simon might be her lover. But Kaiser is her partner in crime. 

The man made his way out obediently. Kaiser has no doubt that Simon isn't alerted of his presence. He never is.

Kaiser let his eyes follow the young man, to make sure he is out of sight.

Looking from afar, he muses, you could never know the double life the man is living. 

Kaiser remembers how he was almost offended when he first saw Simon Wells. The man wears ragged heavy coat that reeks of five day old coffee. The plastic pieces of his cheap glasses ridden with bite mark. He has cigarette stained sides of his finger and stains of ink and cheap liquor on his cheeks. That was the Simon Wells Kaiser saw first. But right here, among the sir and madam, Simon Wells wears the air of royalty as easy as he slips on the suit Kaiser's wife had altered for him- his suit. He walks away from his lover with such ease, like he knows for certain she would faithfully wait for him to come back. Simon Wells, making his way through the parting crowd like he belongs.

On weekdays, a sad private tutor with nothing in his life. And by weekend, well... calling him an escort would be too tasteless. Regardless, with Simon gone, it is his queue to make entrance. Kaiser makes his way down in a controlled pace. 'Controlled', he said. What he meant is he made his pacing so excruciating slow that Lucianna has to fight herself not to storm over and meet him halfway instead. He is nothing if not a tease.

He keeps his eyes fixed on her face. Not in fear that she might disappear. And not to ogle, either. What he wants is to brand it into her conscious his presence. And if he want to remain dramatic, he might as well say he kept his gaze to brand her of her sins. So Kaiser continue staring, and didn't stop until he was almost nose to nose with her.

"Husband," Lucianna's voice a cold challenge.

"My darling wife," his lips spread into a smile. He vaguely wonders if the contempt in her eyes iss reflecting off his. She took his offering hand and they make their way a perfect couple back to the dance floor as he said, "I came to check if you're having a good time. You know, a small benefits of having private jets."

"Small benefits of my wealth," Lucianna retorts casually. "So you’re not here in jealous rage, I see."

"Should I even bother?" He gives her a small, sincere smile and basks in the annoyance that oozes off of her, now amplified. "Truth is, my suit went missing. I spent hours looking for it before the thought crosses my mind, that perchance my wife decides it’d look better on the man she cheated on me with. I thought I should come over to check."

"'Hours’, you said. Did you spend just as long looking for me?"

"The suit belongs to me, you don't." He winks before spins her around. Her dress cut too fitting, too elegantly, too mature to twirl. "That's the beauty of modern marriage, isn't it?"

She turns back, catches herself sharply on his shoulder, and they continue their dance. Brisk steps, rehearsed from so many events they've attended together. The perfection of their dance means no invasion into each other's personal space. He steps forward, as if leading, and she would step back, subtly avoids his touch. Comparing to the dance he saw earlier, where Simon complied easily as Lucianna leads, he could see how she might love Simon better.

"If only I have a husband who would fly over in jealous rage." Her voice snaps him back. She says her line as if accusing, but it’s all too weak. And too easy for him. 

Kaiser feigns surprised, "I never notice that you’re still in habit of seeking attention by running away. Aww, Lucie, you should know better than to lay your daddy issue on me." 

That earns him precious little seconds when the flame in Lucianna’s eyes turned into.... what is that expression? Hurt? Betrayed? Funny she should be the one acting out that part. Considering how she has no right, really. But guilt won over him anyway. "Sorry, too mean?"

He realises that he really is too cruel to her sometimes. He knows where it hurt, knows where it's already bruising black, yellow, blue. Knowing she done him wrong and that she knows that he knows it. It's why he probed and poked; shamelessly bullied her into a corner. It's not very gentlemanly of him, he afraid. 

"Might be a little out of bound, don't you think?” Lucianna regains her composure. “Even I resisted the urge to comment that you probably only flew over here because you're suddenly reminded that your mother left you for another man." Then she concluded with triumph, "mummy issue." 

1.

Mistral tells herself she has met a wonderful friend.

He is funny, or he might not be, but being around him makes laughter bubbled off her so easily she feels like a soda pop. He is old-fashioned, he opens the door and pull out the chair for her. He likes her, even when she frowns or when weather tampers with her mood, he still likes her. He lives across the town and they studies in different school, but they have met. And they still see each other on regular basis. 

Mistral tells herself she met a wonderful boy.

Mistral and Angelo would find time to meet, somewhere in town, somewhere in the middle; a coffee shop, a record store, a park. They talks about countless subjects that Mistral doesn’t remember what about. But she recalls clearly the joy of talking. And he is kind. And she really, truly, likes him.

Mistral learns to say goodbye to Angelo at least half an hour before she has to leave, save time for polite bickering. Him insisting on walking her home and her insisting that increasing his distance isn’t quite reasonable. They go on with this little act like it was rehearsed She loves that too.

Sometimes she lost, and he walks her home. They never look at each other- she never look at him. Her eyes pierce on the stone pathway and her smile threatens to split her face into two. She had wish the way home would be longer, neverending, endless- becomes a realm where all that exists is her and Angelo, talking all the nonesense and having the happiest time of their live.

Sometimes he lost, and they go their respective way. Mistral would regretted fighting him on walking her back, because she truly did want to spend time with him.

She doesn’t want to leave him, she say that much. He said the same.

 When they say goodbye Mistral fee

lt bad if she took the first step, feels bad if she has to take the first step, to leave him there. Because it was never her intention. Because she realizes how much better it would be if she stays with him.

He said he feels just as much. 

So one day, she reached for his hand.

“Let’s do this,” Mistral says, suppressing her nerves. This would be the first time they held hand. The girl would mark the act off as something casual, an act of a friend to one another. She tries to convince herself he couldn’t possibly feel her heartbeats through her palm while she turns her back to him, hand still held on tight.

The street that would lead to her apartment lies before her eyes, his street would be right on his direction too. She says quietly, “let’s take three steps off together....” 

“This way, I’m not leaving you, and you’re not leaving me.”

So three, two, one… they took three steps apart from each other, calling it out loud. Mistral continues with her walk, but unable to suspend her curiosity, she cranes her neck to look back to look. 

Angelo is facing her, walking backward, both hands secures in his jeans pockets. 

Smiling.

She turned around and smile to the ground.

She hopes his eyes stays fixed on her until she’s gone out of sight. She wouldn’t know, but she hopes so.

2.

Angelo is certain he had met the girl of his dream.

Mistral McDonnell who has gentle eyes. Mistral McDonnell who says few words but has a face expressive if you know where to look. Mistral McDonnell whose words can barely be heard under her breath, but she laughs like a bell. 

Mistral McDonnell whose skin smell like English rose in dead winter. He knows it’s her perfume and shampoo, because Mistral McDonnell is no mythical creature- but in his eyes, she might as well be. Mistral McDonnell who awkwardly hands him the cone of ice cream because she doesn’t eat the, and because she always have her brother eating it for her, now him. Mistral McDonnell, who he is certain he has fallen in love with.

So he asks her out for a dinner. A proper one. A dinner under candle light in the restaurant that cost him three months of his savings. The dinner has be disastrous, his plan is flawed, just because he had taken her out to movie before it.

Mistral and him, they always go to movie then dinner. Although this time the dinner he insisted on paying has been so expensive and uncomfortably expensive, although his intention was not quite pure of Plato’s definition...

Mistral McDonnell doesn’t notice.

He fidgets the whole night, and he can tell her nervous. Mistral kept untie her hair and braid it all over again to perfection, the nervous tick he has learnt to take note of.

He escorts her home without much resistance from her. Angelo is thankful for that, at least. He needs more energy and courage for what’s to come. For when he reaches her doorstep, he would tell her he likes her.

She says, “I like you too.”

He asks her, would she like to go on a date, with him. If she doesn’t mind it terribly. If she really wants to.

She says, “yes.” But not after a long pause, a surprised expression, and an aggressive blushing.

And he kisses her.  

Angelo thinks to himself it was a wonderful first day. Despite the fidgeting.

As usual, they hold hand, he has his back to her, preparing to leave. This time, he brushes his thumb on her smooth skin, something he has wanted to do for so long (it was on The List).

So they stands there for a while until he mumbles, “let’s go”; though the boy doesn’t want to, in fact, let go. They takes three steps away from each each, fingers slowly untangles on the first.

On the third step, he looked back, it is the first time since they started their little ritual Mistral McDonnell isn’t already looking back.

Even in darkness, he can see how red her ears are. In darkness, Angelo feels his own face heating up, too. Along with the grin that he is certain going to be on his face til the end of time.

It is a quiet night, but the air vibrates like firework

3. Angelo asks her, after seven years of being together, if she is bored of him yet.

Mistral didn’t know what expression has take over her face, but he takes her in his arms and laughs profusely. He apologizes along with those act; an apology for her, for he had gave her the wrong idea. After his laughter dies down, she told him she could never been bored of him.

After high school, they had enrolled in the same university. It was a conscious decision. Mistral and Angelo got into a good university, Mistral would get to live near her brother and Angelo would have an excellent internship opportunity. That being said, the fact that they would be studying the same place was heavily factored in. They graduated, and they stayed.

They lives closer together, and these days instead of meeting each other half-way before each of them head back to their respective home, Ang walk her back. These days Mistral doesn’t blush as much when he gives her a good night kiss, she even smile sweeter.

They couldn’t live together, despite how many years together, her brother would skin Ang alive and make him a bathroom carpet. Mistral doesn’t think of this as something much of an obstacle. Ang, less so. Occasionally when he forgets how much Mistral cares about her brother’s opinion, he would complain.

Mistral would retire back to her apartment to pout.

Either way, they settled with him coming over at her place and the other way round, from time to time. A little bit of distance is good. They have been together long enough to not care about it.

Tonight, as usual, like the habit, Mistral and Ang holds hand and take three steps from each other while counting down. As usual, like the habit, after the third step Mistral looks back to see Angelo facing her. But not quite like their old ritual...

Mistral is three steps away from him.

And Angelo is on his knee, asking for her hand in marriage.