Itzel, gracias for your touching review! You motivated me to update this early x

Warning: May I repeat that this story is rated T for a reason ;)


Chapter Seven

Opposite Sides:

Vulnerability

His footsteps echoed through the hallway. Immediately, her eyes drifted, seemingly alert. She pushed her plate further, her utensils neatly lined at the side, showing off the glistering light on the ceramic for the absence of her consumed food. Despite a heartbeat of uncertainty, her welcoming smile was ready to meet him. They thought he will not go back because of the mishap, yet he was and very much like himself with his brooding.

Unfortunately, that smile altered as soon as she saw him. His dress shirt was wrinkly and his hair was somewhat messier than it always was. Olive also noted the slight red in his dark eyes. It drawn her aback, she hasn't seen him display anything close to whatever he feels, but somehow, that sadness illuminated in his orbs. She uttered his name, soft and quiet, yet he still heard her. He blinked back and tilted his head further to his feet, his blonde strands blocking his eyes.

Somewhere in front of her, Mrs. Dust whispered and Ronaldo spoke, requesting for his presence to the dining table. In return, he politely, yet blankly, declined their offer. Although his stomach might've rumbled, he told them he felt unwell. It might be a cold, he said.

And he once told her she's extremely bad at making excuses.

She glanced at Mrs. Dust who was also looking back. There was a shade of worry in the older woman's deep eyes and Olive absentmindedly nodded. Upon the floor, Enoch's feet began to sound adrift from them, first from the thumping against the same footings, then to the escalated stairs, up to the resounding click of his door.

Ronaldo stared at his absent form next to her seat, "I'm guessing the meeting didn't end well." She narrowed her eyes at him and then glanced sadly to Enoch's vacant spot, pure concern was written on her expressive face. It made her upset to think that he'd been skipping dinner all because she'd been careless.

Which was why she stood up abruptly. "What are you doing Miss Olive?" Ronaldo asked. "He needs to rest." And she explained stubbornly.

"He will."

"He doesn't know what that word means, then"

"He'd push you away"

"I don't care, I'd trick him if I must. Never mind if he'd get angry, I've been so reckless and such a bad friend for far too long, Ronaldo"

She glided from her seat, way pass his pitying eyes, then to the vacant kitchen. Below the cupboard was a rounded black mantle that adorned porcelain cups, saucers, teapots, and a black rounded kettle, which she walked directly to. She removed the kettle from the set, rinsed the insides from any possible bacteria that could worsen one's virus, and filled it once more with the tap water. Once done and had the kettle heavy, she ignited the stove to life and placed the container upon the white circle.

She took a step back and watched as the black inside the circle lighten with red. Behind the arch, Mrs. Dust and Ronaldo kept on glancing at the back of her neck, worried and confused with how affected she was. She shrugged their glances off and continued with her waiting. The bowl she's intending to use was rinsed, waiting innocently to be of value upon the countertop, near the dining arch. She then busied herself on counting the white dotted designs on the ceramic before the kettle became measurably warm.

Behind her, soft footsteps walked their way to her back and then, right next to her. Relying to her peripheral vision, a shawl's end danced to sight. Mrs. Dust placed a tray to the counter and rummaged through her stock of bland crackers in the cupboard on the other side of the kitchen.

"I really hope he'll find peace as well. Must be fun to see him just be himself without this stress he's in." The temperature in the room rose, signaling her of her kettle. After returning back a small smile to the older woman, she straightened her posture and went straight to the stove, shutting the fire off.

She tipped and filled the bowl with warm water. The warmth diffused slightly and she cannot help but to relax the stressed muscles on her face. She smiled suddenly, knowing just how much a warm water can relax anyone, even the lying, brooding man a floor distant to her.

The smile was still on her face when she turned. Despite the confusion and rejection she felt in such stressful moment, her determination overpowered her inward sighs. She was not much of a stuck-in-the moment person, only for things and those she honestly value. If one acquaintance does not want to expand a friendship, she'll be alright to let go of it. Didn't she doubted her goal of reaching her estrange mother? Yet Enoch reminded her that everybody was worth fighting for.

Yes, she values him that much. After all, he's her friend.

She caught Mrs. Dust's eyes studying her, though without any malice. Once her eyes met the darker ones, the woman smiled kindly. The latter grabbed her hand and squeezed, there were gratitude, kindness, and a secret that was passed, though Olive, with her wild imagination, cannot pin point it out. Mrs. Dust must've sensed something with her intelligent brain that she cannot follow to. Instead of answering the younger woman, she grabbed her tray, which Olive did not know when she prepared or if she grabbed it from the dining table, but it was already sporting a brewed tea and yes, the crackers.

They made a bee line to the stairs, then up to the horizontal hallway that led to doors and glass windows. Olive was the first out of the three and the bowl in her hands gave her enough reality check to remind her that things could go horribly wrong than go incredibly right inside the lion's den. Yet, here she was again, pushing herself to be trapped.

She exhaled sharply and tried to incline her head, though her knees gave a little wobble. That did not go unnoticed by Ronaldo, who snickered at the back of the line with a fresh shirt, clean towel, and much to Olive's averting eyes, boxer shorts. Apparently, the three of them really grew up treating each other as family and Olive would not chicken out just because she was reminded how Enoch was actually a man with a face that could clearly be loved not only by his mother and a body-

Her eyes went wide and she mentally slapped herself. Of course she'd think of that, she's twenty five after all and nobody could deny he's a looker. She was just grateful she randomly thought of such scene way before she's face to face with the man in that daydream. She couldn't imagine his face if he'd find out, which as blabber mouth and feisty as she is, she would not ever tell.

Her thought led her face to face, close enough but still, to his door. She calmed down her nerves and knocked as gracious and gentle as she could. She heard a deep sigh from the other side and a: "What?" which she glanced around for Mrs, Dust who only shook her head and swayed her hand, an indication for her to try again.

She repeated knocking the same faint thuds. For a few breaths, his familiar weighing when he walks were stepping upon his floor. Then, the sound stopped and the door knob rotated clockwise, which revealed them the Enoch they all cared about. He stood in front of her with still, as much as they all guessed, with his work clothes on and a tired face.

"What is this Olive?" She could've grinned real big when he sounded as if he'd call her that permanently, yet she stood her ground and focused on the concern and being stern for him.

"You look dreadful"

"Gee, thanks for the compliment, you can go now"

He was about to slam the door shut but she pushed her strong bowl at the gap, the water inside swished and splashed against the boulders yet thankfully, nothing spilled. "You are sick Enoch, you say so yourself, you caught a cold."

She dared his eyes to speak. He glared at her for a long second, then gave up and rolled his eyes. "Just leave those stuff upon the table, thank you."

"No and you're welcome." She could feel his eyes as she pass him and went straight to his dim room. She strode far enough for him to acknowledge that she'd not go anywhere and for Mrs. Dust and Ronaldo to settle the stuff upon his coffee table. Also, she was close enough that she'd not invade his space forcibly. Her eyes glanced to him with an apology and optimism within, hoping he could get the message.

He was about to reply but Mrs. Dust, the mother among all of them stood in front of him and smiled encouragingly, her hand cupping the tall man's jaw with such maternal care. Enoch glanced back at Olive then back to Mrs. Dust, hardening his stare as he read her. Olive watched with respect, smiling with the way Enoch then sighed in defeat, letting them win the round he'd been fighting against.

Mrs. Dust turned around to have her gaze directed to her, and she nodded out of instinct. The woman has such air around her that'll make one relax and believe in themselves. She seemed as if she knows everything she's doing. "Yes Mrs. Dust, I'll take care of him." She reassured.

Nodding, the woman made her exit with her son in tow.

When the door closed, Enoch sighed and sinked in his bed. Olive was left standing on the space between his coffee table and his walk in closet, trying to take everything in. Inside the warmth of the dark room, she still shivered. It was no secret that Enoch was living in extravagance, but she was still left in-awe and completely felt small with such huge master's.

Enoch cleared his throat. He was sitting with his back against his dark wooden head board, half of his body hidden inside his gray comforters. His eyes were bold despite the faint puffiness of his eyelids. She smiled easily, shaking her head from the overwhelming size of his room; just when she was about to adjust with the house's spacious content, here she was inside his'.

"I can take care of myself"

She chose not to respond to such resistance, "you lay there and get comfy, leave this to me ok? I will take care of you," and turned to avert his stubborn eyes "you and I both know I did not actually catch a cold right?" With that question, she paused, not speaking for a moment, keeping her own stubborn self in check. Thankfully, Enoch let her be as she fixed her station. She took the the towel from the pile, dipped it in the bowl and brought her hands at the each sides to hold it still.

"Yet you've not slept right these past few days. You need some rest, yes?"

"So rest I shall! Very well then, you can leave now"

She gave him a blank look and he raised his eyebrow in return. "Let me do this, Enoch"

When he did not respond, she edged to him further, the bowl still held inside her arms. Even with his lack of response, his eyes cannot seem to leave her be, they await for her as she come closer and closer. As a result, she shifted awkwardly with her knees struggling to stay put upon his mattress.

Trying hard not to lose her firmness, she climbed in his never ending mattress with her brave eyes still locked to his' and her knees doing all the work and balance as gracefully as she could. The water inside the bowl moved slightly, though thankfully, she had reached his side before getting such huge chance to fall and splash everything around.

She inched as close as she could; to be able to get job done without looking awkward. Enoch's hand flexed in alarm as her left knee lightly grazed on the cold skin of his arm. She shrugged the tension that tried to rise on her cheeks and instead, tried a comforting smile, in which made him blush but his hand did relax.

Her hands dug in the bowl for the towel and squeezed the cloth for water residues. "You may be a liar, but you sure are not feeling well." She brought the cloth to his cheek, patting the skin gently. He stiffened beneath but she only sticked her tongue out playfully and avert her touches to his forehead. He grunted and closed his eyes, he cannot seem to point out why he liked the soothing feather like touches of her fingers. "You're still worse in making up excuses though."

"Pfft, you just don't want Mrs. Dust to worry, do you?" She plunged the towel back to the water and repeated the process, though this time, it began to his other cheek, down to his chin.

"Because I thought I'll escape her excessive and unneeded caregiving and her knowing glances," he rolled his eyes and she chuckled. "pity me, the second one's the most persistent person in the whole population of Cairnholm"

"Is that a compliment, Enoch?" He gave her a judging glare.

"Doesn't matter, you'll take it as one anyway."

"You know what, I've been thinking."

"Wow, that's dangerous"

"We," she pressed the towel to his lips, pointing him, "should call her Mama Dust, the missus sounds so detached and she deserves to receive that love she gives."

He snorted. "That's a potential drag queen name, Olive"

She smiled easily. He might actually feel unwell for the excessive times he used her name in just one evening. "And they're utterly bizarre"

"She'll love it"

"Duh, of course she would"

Their conversation died out and she continued her work. She did the sequence with the towel once more. "Up" She simply stated, motioning for him to lift himself so that she'd position him to a comfy position. He raised himself up by his elbows, head and chest sprang out as his eyes avoided hers'. Her one available hand fished inside the gap between his back and the bed, pulling his head pillow slightly downwards. She pushed him gently once done.

She was hovering beneath him, her shadow casting his face some sort of new dim. Her available hand held his chin and tilted him gently, his pale neck stretched fully for her own eyes. He did not know if she could hear the odd beatings of his heart; his reasoning was his obvious unfamiliarity with physical comfort.

But she still delved in, her hand with the towel touching the skin of his neck. Slowly, the towel pass by the adam's apple curving in the middle of his throat, down to the space between his collarbones.

Her eyes met his' despite the dark that surround them. She saw the blueness of his always hidden eyes, staring back at her with an expression she could not place. He was looking at her with his brows furrowed, his lips slightly open, revealing some appearance of his two front teeth. She, besides the obvious erratic movements in the top of her belly, was left speechless and slightly trembling.

Damn you attraction.

"Arms" her voice was low but he seemed to hear her though. He nodded aimlessly and offered the closest arm for her. She brought one hand clasping his elbow, the other with the towel to his shoulder blade, tracing the sides of the bone with her fingers beside the cloth.

"Relax, Enoch." She did not know if it was for him , or hers as well. One thing though, his name left her mouth with a low tone that even the most oblivious person could decipher the sudden shift.

He bobbed his head. "I am not tensed"

She released much effort to smile back, bringing her attention to his wrist. The towel travelled around his wrist and climbed up to his palm and slim fingers. Her other hand grabbed his palm, her fingertips pressed to the bases of each digits and suddenly, that was the most intimate hand holding he ever experienced.

The warmth spread in that hand and he was conscious with how warm and dainty her flesh was.

"You seemed to know what you're doing" He tried to focus themselves back to what makes sense.

"You know how kids are, their immune system gets really busy with all those viruses trying to break in"

"Ah, you still go there?"

She stopped her ministrations to his hand and pulled his other arm to avert the same attention.

"I help Wyn-wyn tend the children, they're really awesome," her lips formed a small real smile and suddenly, her eyes lit up to him. "Wait, if I use my memory correctly, a little birdy told me you actually went there?"

"Who told you?" He pried off his hand from her, taken aback, "it's Mrs. Dust, isn't it?" but she grabbed his hand and pulled back.

"Well, technically, she did not tell me." She paused for a moment, realizing how much she ruined the moment. "I'm sorry, I should not have known it."

He understood why Mrs. Dust felt the need to open the topic up. It was hers' and her son's story, he has no say in it to be frank. Besides, knowing those two, he knew they did not go completely subjective with his role in their storytelling. It was probably just a small detail that interested Olive Elephanta because she too, happened to have lived in the same home. She had found it fascinating that they somehow, breathed the same air and stepped on the same ground once, in a different time.

It was not that he sees Olive Elephanta as an untrustworthy person. It was just that he prefers being cautious in all ways. It was extremely hard for him to trust anybody. Nobody has it easy anyway.

The weight beside him was gone but his eyes were still distracted, staring at his hands upon his thighs. He couldn't handle her knowing him that deeply when in fact, he did not permit her so. He couldn't handle her pitying him, she'd have this idea in her head that perhaps, he's as pessimistic as he is because he needed saving. He does not need any saving.

"Take your shirt off"

"What?" He blinked in surprise, his train of thoughts interrupted by a cliff that is her. He's still not used to how the mechanisms inside her head goes. She was quite a firecracker, intense, feisty and all over the place, he simply tries to accept the fact that he'd always be surprised.

"Relax, Enoch," her voice was playful, but her shoulders and back were tensed. "You obviously need to change to comfy ones," she bounced off of his bed and collected the pile from the coffee table. He saw a peak of his undergarment that did not help him get any ease at all. He mentally hushed his thoughts and tried to cover the rising red that threatened to show. "Or you rather sleep unclothed?"

She was extremely impossible.

His ears tinged pink as his eyes hardened at her.

It was an innocent question, though the way Olive's lips sprung to a mischievous smile made him uncomfortably hot. He was a human being designed with human mechanisms. It wasn't like he blocked himself from feeling.

"I-I will change, yeah. Just um" he mentally cursed himself for stuttering, "don't peak or whatever"

He stood from his bed and walked across her. Her eyes were glued to him, but he cannot seem to meet them. He decided the moment was really messed up, he was showing her how vulnerable he could be and she was basking in such weakness with her full smile and powerful eyes.

He took his clothes grumpily and entered his walk-in closet, making sure that he shut the door behind him.

Behind the other side, Olive peeled herself from the bed as well and collected the tray of crackers and tea. She then placed it upon his bed side table. Once done with making sure his food was still warm, she sat on the edge of his bed, a deep sigh leaving her nose.

All was borderline well until she mentioned his stay in Cairnholm, the pleasant mood, albeit the normal attraction she no longer deny, was immediately put off. Thanks to her blabbering mouth, she felt his retaliation once more.

She let her back fall to the mattress, her feet dangling to the edge. The red and green lights illuminate to his ceiling and she stared at them. She could imagine him laying in the same bed with his thoughts busy and eyes glued to the reflection, looking for an answer inside the deafening silence. Could imagine him groaning in his fluffy pillow, stretching his limbs just to occupy the spaces. He has such huge bed to accompany his spacious room after all.

Her eyes closed themselves as she let her thoughts bother her. It was possibly his bed that has such toll, or his scent that linger in his comforters, which she breathed in, that made her mind decide to give him for her to think about.

The closet door slid open and he paused next to his coffee table, taken aback by her presence laying down his bed. She rolled to her side as soon as she heard his presence. Her eyes opened and awkwardly averted their view once she registered where they were placed to. Her pair travelled from his, much to her embarrassment, navel, up to his face. She greeted him a hello and he nodded. For a seemingly, minute or two, he stared at her, waiting for her to get off, which she made no plans on doing so. He gave up and crawled at his side of the bed, his toes a few inches away from her back.

He found the tray upon his side and much to Olive's hopefulness, he decided to eat.

She rolled to her back, her side profile revealed to the munching man. Her eyes were straight ahead, looking at the colors reflecting on his ceiling. He recognized her look, it was a part of the same ceremonial he has whenever he's distracted with his thoughts. He gave in and stared at them as well.

"Everybody seems to think that by being inherently optimistic, one is free from all of life's issues," her voice, a soft melody, hang in the air, "but that's full of shit. I lost it. I lost her. I am not the same eternally optimistic Olive anymore. I've always thought, by being one step closer to finding my mother would make me feel at ease, but as it turns out, I am not. I am still lost, scared of why I feel so- unsure, so doubting. There are also times when I feel so accusing, so angry at her. And that's not me, that's not what I should be. I'm just so, so scared."

The silence came back along with her choked breath. Her chest rose and fell in an erratic motion as if waves thrashing angrily at sharp rocks. He looked at her with unreadable eyes and it was probably because he was taken aback by her trust. She showed him her vulnerability and he felt ashamed for thinking that her skeletons and her closets were all irrational. Olive Elephanta was a book that he only read the synopsis and disregarded afterwards. Of whom he thought was always walking on sunshine actually has rain and shadows following her tail.

Life's unfair. Truly.

She made no attempt to face him. She spilled out the heavy weight she'd been feeling over the past few years. After all this time, she tried to be little miss Olive as best as she could; smiling and believing in a positivity she sometimes do not believe in anymore. For quite some time, everybody did not question it, for everybody does the same. They act put together and she knows they expected her to be happy. They did not want to worry the other and so they deepen the holes in their souls, pretending all was well.

It was a series of unspoken commands.

Be happy, Olive. Shine, ignore the flickering light of doubt. Offer help and forget you needed one. Do not make Wyn worry. Do not crumble. The world needs your smile.

Then, Enoch came along. He was true to her ever since the start. He was a fresh page in her life that opened too many possibilities. There weren't any expectations in his part as to how she was supposed to act, he simply let her be. He was not afraid to show the world how screwed life could be and she admired that of him. She became attracted with how he made her feel as if she was not alone. It was as if she was allowed to laugh over, admit some silly things and also, rant about her misfortunes with him and he wouldn't think of her any else. She cared about him too much because frighteningly, it was not just because she was guilty, but perhaps, unconsciously, she's slowly needing him. And him, her, as well.

Her tears continued to fall silently, over what? She cannot seem to comprehend. Lost, sad, hurt, anger, everything came spilling under her eyelids. She never felt so tired but glad for a long while.

"Life is unfair, Olive. One thing fair about it is everybody has their own demons." He started, his thick accent was soft and comforting. "And that does not exclude you, the likes of you. Nobody can be so incredibly happy all the time, that's screwed up."

She smiled against the fogginess of her sight. It now struck him how different the night was slowly turning out.

"I didn't- you- you did well in hiding your feelings, my skills weeped because you did it albeit being kind to humans. But that's not the point." He breathed in and out, having trouble putting everything to words. "Your feelings, those are yours, a part of you that makes you, you. You are so raw, so compassionate, despite how foreign I am with such things, I advice that you do not change that. People like you, Olive, deserve to feel because that's what makes you human."

His mind brought him Victor, but he fought and continued.

"No matter what happens, you'd find yourself in the end. I do not know why you seem to think that you are no longer that little feisty Olive years and years ago, but I still see her. Yes, you're taller and now have mother nature's blessings," despite the seriousness of the moment, they both blushed, "you grew up, but the same eyes, the same wonder, the same longing, the same spunk, those are still in you. You may not remember me, but you've always sought your mum. You'd cry, fall, get hurt, but you rise afterwards, run around enjoying the fragility of your life."

"You remember me, but I can't seem to- I'm sorry"

"Doesn't matter. you were just young then, barely even completed your set of teeth." She snorted and chuckled, but that was not his point."And you are doing those things. You're stuck with me and yet, you find ways to see me in a positive light. I will never understand your mechanisms, but I do know how utterly strong you are as yourself. Being lost and weak do not change that."

She took one harsh intake of breath, her wet lips stretching to a tired smile. Relief. Relief filled her with warmth she did not think would ever feel so good. To hear such words from his usually sarcastic mouth made her feel them way too much. Here they were, two lost souls finding comfort in each other's doubts and thoughts, trying to lift the other up in hopes of redemption. She never thought she'd live the day that she'd meet such impossible man, but she did. All because she was uncertain and wandering.

Her cold arms found their way around her, cradling herself in a cocoon inside another person's bed. The said person watched, yet his eyes were shy as though he does not know if he was allowed to see her state.

"She-she left me when I was eight. She told me she'd come back but she didn't. I hate how she's living the rest of her life as if I did not exist, as if I am not suffering. Most importantly, I hate how I'm still hoping she'll come around, that I still want to hug her once more."

Their breaths mingled with one another, exhaustion clear in their eyes. His chest wanted to burst with all the truth she was so willing to give. A part of him wanted to desperately to blurt out the pain haunting his head. He wanted to feel the same vulnerability and ease she now has, but he cannot seem to speak. He was at loss for words, his own hidden emotions clogging his stomach, drowning him.

Loneliness crept in and he resisted the urge to break down. The night was already silent, crying for him. For them.

Somewhere beneath his comforters, Olive Elephanta's hand crawled to his'. Her fingers smoothed his palm, tracing random lines on his flesh. Her eyes travelled to his face, scanning him as his expression was blank.

"You deserve to feel as well, Enoch. Everything that is human."

"I don't"

She did not respond and went back to staring at his ceiling.

"Can I hold your hand?"

"Will that make you feel better?"

"For both of us?"

He did not answer, but his hand scooped in, taking her hand much closer, snuggling it deeper. Her fingers held his' tightly, their palms meeting in their warmth.

They did not let go until her eyes closed and her breathing went deep. He sighed and disentangle his hand from hers, climbing down his bed to take care of her.

The night really did not go as planned.

Her face was peaceful yet the trails her tears left were glistering in the right light. He snorted as he pull the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the runny snot that clogged her nose. She did not squirm and so he concluded that she's a heavy sleeper.

He scooped her right up, one hand behind her neck and the other behind her knees. She was light weighed in his arms, curling in as she sought for comfort. Her head lolled inside, laying on his shoulder, shaking her head once, twice, to get to the uttermost fluff. She might've thought he was a pillow; which he cannot help but grunt and roll his eyes.

It took him a few seconds to open his door with a woman-child in his arms. He tried to shrug a weird feeling creeping in him but he was so tired to even think about it. His eyes never left her flushed face, occasionally laughing at it whenever she'd open her mouth and giggle. Even in her dreams, Olive was silly.

He moved to the hallway and almost bumped to Mrs. Dust. The woman looked at them curiously, but he only stared. Her expression was all he needed, she was trying to decipher what had just happened.

"Don't worry," he said, smiling the way he only knew how. Mrs. Dust nodded slowly, as though puzzled, but still managed to give him an encouraging smile he was so familiar about. The smile that helped him when he felt so low as a child. The motherly smile that made him feel as if he really do matter. "Oh, and thank you, Mama Dust."

He left her standing still in her spot, wearing the smile he only knew how to make, and reminded the sleeping girl of predators and the cheshire cat.


Thank you for reading! What can you say about the chapter? I do so hope they are not out of their elements. I sort of wanted them to be more human as possible but I worry they got a bit carried away and became two new characters. But anyway, I really hope you liked it! Do leave a review.