Oh sweet architect

My bones are heavy and my soul's a mess

I can't find my address

Build me up, build me up

Oh sweet architect

I've been lonely since the day you've left

So come and find my address

Build me up

-Sweet Architect, Emeli Sande

The man who Mercedes had come to know as 'Jack Ryan' had stayed true to his promise by returning to her home on numerous occasions. His visits became a regular occurrence, a weekly scheduled visit on her calendar which she looked forward to like a child on Christmas morning. She counted off each sunset until he came to her yet again.

The first time he brought pizza.

The second time they watched a movie together.

The third time he told her his name.

His name was 'Sam'. For some reason, his name perfectly suited him when it stumbled over his moving lips.

After he blurted out his name he quickly took his leave before she could explain to him that she wouldn't get him in trouble. She no longer feared the man in the way she did the first night their paths cross. The moments between them felt too sacred, and perhaps she was so desperate for company, for her to betray him.

She has yet to see his face as his balaclava stayed on his like a layer of skin, protecting his identity from her. But she knew that the man underneath it was gorgeous. His lean muscular body and broad soldier coupled with the velvet in his voice did little to hide the fact that the man was probably a Roman god. And Mercedes spent hours imagining what perfection hid underneath his mask.

Because of this, the young woman spent a little more time making herself more appealing for his visits yet still attempting to look comfortable and not like she was dressing to impress him- which she certainly was- but rather grabbed whatever was comfortable in her closet.

If Mercedes were honest she would be the first to admit there certainly were moments of intense awkwardness during their weekly rendezvous. They still enjoyed each other's company regardless of the clumsiness peppering their conversation. They spoke about different things; mostly the mundanity of everyday life, however every once in a while he would let slip something about his family.

She noticed that he tried his best to thread on threads of caution with the topics he chose to engage her with., however sometimes he would speak his thoughts and feelings before stopping himself when realization dawned on him he was talking too much. Every nugget of information he lets slip Mercedes filed in her mind before he could try and retract or change the subject.

After he blurted out his name he quickly took his leave before she could explain to him that she wouldn't get him in trouble. She didn't fear the man like she did the first night their paths cross. The moments between them felt too sacred, and perhaps she was too desperate for company, for her to betray him.

Besides, she truly found the man to be a fascinating creature; he had a perpetual rain cloud that hung over him which drew her to him because she too was sad. She felt as though he would understand her sadness as it was one he was familiar with, and he did not feel the need to judge her for it as he had yet to bring up the circumstances under which they had met-

"Do you ever lock that window?"

The sudden interruption caused the girl to jump in surprise. The man always had the ability to sneak up on here even when he was an expected visitor.

He entered the living and sat down on the free couch across from hers where she was wrapped in a blanket.

"Then how would you get in?" She asked earnestly.

The man's eyes roamed over her as though he was having an internal dialogue she was not privy to. A few seconds later a shrug ran through his body as a lowly whispered:

"Maybe you shouldn't be letting me in, in the first place."

To Mercedes closing the window and withholding his entrance to her house would be her wordlessly declining their tentative friendship build on kindred mutual sadness. Mercedes had people who some would call friends however she felt as though those friendships were built on them pitying her. She did not spend hours with them after school shopping and sharing stories about boys. Their friendship never left the parameters of their high school. It bothered her, however, it is something she tried not to think of it too much as the illusions of friendship were the only constant relationships in her life; that is why she clung to the artificialness of it all as the illusion of a bound was better than the reality without it.

Perhaps that was also why she was desperately clinging to the man sitting on her couch.

She did not respond to his previous statement allowing a cloud of silence to descend down on them for a few minutes. She chose to change the subject though, asking him what was in the plastic bag in his hand.

He took out a small container and tossed it over to her before explaining:

"My mom and sister made cupcakes for a school thing so I got all the rejects so don't expect them to look perfect."

Mercedes had taken mental notes of every nugget of information the man let slip from his lips as she knew that he had not meant to let details of his life slip through. She knew he had a mother, sister, and brother. He never spoke of his father so Mercedes thought that he might not be in the picture anymore.

She opened up the ice cream tub to find deformed cupcakes greeting her; however, she still took a bite of it to find them to be surprisingly delicious. They were far from perfect; a little dry with the icing being a tad too sweet. She had tasted better in Parisian bakeries, however, there was something charming about the simplicity in them. It transported her back to simpler times when she was a child.

"One of my nannies used to bake with me."

Her name was Anna, a 20-something-year-old from Austria who looked after her for two years. Mercedes had come to love the kindhearted woman who would read her bedtime stories, sang songs with her, and baked cakes with her that were flops most of the time. But she loved eating their creation regardless of how dry or uncooked it was at the time. She loved eating them though regardless of how dry they were.

"You had a lot of them?"

She nods averting her eyes to the televisions screen prompting Sam to do the same noting she did not want to talk about it. He silently watched the cartoon with her for a few minutes.

"What are you watching?"

"Kotaro lives alone," she says. "t's about a 4-year old who lives alone. His mother neglected him and his dad was an abusive drunk so now he lives alone in a little apartment complex."

"That sounds… depressing."

She shrugs in agreement.

"Yeah, but the people around him look out for him. It's sad but charming how everyone that meets him takes him under their wings."

Sam studied the girl; her cheeks were fuller than usual as she ate the treat he had given her. She had skin the color of deep rich earth. She held a subtle beauty and grace to her, something that could easily be overlooked by untrained eyes.

"Rapunzel, where are your parents?"

He could not help but wondered how her parents could not see how tortured she was. Did they not care? Did they throw her away like the cartooned child on screen? He had so many questions that he tried keeping to himself but sometimes he failed to keep his mouth from running without his permission.

"I don't know. Last I heard they were in Ethiopia. They're diplomats; they travel a lot.

"They didn't take you with them?"

"Nope."

She tried appearing nonchalant but Sam could see the tension in her features as though she is trying to keep the emotions bubbling inside her at bay.

"That…sounds lonely."

"It is."

Sam sighs before admitting aloud for the first time in his life:

"I'm lonely sometimes too."

With that, the conversation ended and the two silently watched the anime in peace. Sam could see the girl tearing up at certain emotionally poignant scenes. He felt a little lighter admitting that to the girl because misery truly enjoyed company.

Help me, we're still hearing, we're still breathing

Knee deep with the deep kneeling

We stay brave looking, we've been damaged

See most got a heart, but some's damaged

Oh dear heaven, I hope you're up to something

Cause dear heaven, this just can't be for nothing

We're still here, we're still breathing

We're still here

-Sweet Architect, Emeli Sande

Kotaro Lives Alone is a pretty good anime so def check it out. It hit me right in the feels with the perfect blend of humor and emotional beats. It's really charming.

I'm working on an update for Now and Then as we speak hopefully it will be done by next weekend. Lastly, I'll be continuing Our Story after I finish Now and Then.

Thank you for the warm welcome back btw.