Foolish people fall in love in two weeks time, ignore red flags, and dismiss advice from their friends. Luckily, no one can call me a fool because I'm not in love. I've learnt from the past. And plus, I can't fall for an idea. I just can't allow myself to fall head over heels because of a piece of paper. I can't be that fool again.

This is what I repeatedly told myself by noon, waiting for Brahms to come. It's not like I was anticipating chocolates and flowers. I was just expecting he'd come by and introduce himself at least. But I was stood up once more.

Despite this, I somehow wanted to keep my faith. Perhaps I was forcing an introverted man to socialise. That wouldn't be nice, I suppose, if it were me in his position. So I gave it time. After a while, I had forgotten about it. I had gotten lost in music and books in my own small cottage. I hadn't spent this much time alone and realised I was missing out on the beauty of solitude.

I managed to buy myself a pair of speakers. Perks of living away from people—getting to blast music without bothering your neighbours. It's also enough a ruse to make sure Brahms won't think I'm sulking that he had not shown up. "I'm not going to be sad over a boy," I muttered while plugging in my phone to play Charlotte Cardin's rendition of "Wicked Games".

Looking out the window with a mug in hand, I watched a hint of orange peeking out of the clouds during sundown. It was almost unnoticeable. I stayed there, observing the outdoors without thinking of anything else. I finally had the privilege of not doing anything. I was thankfully away from responsibilities. I could breathe.

Billie Eilish's "Hostage" came on. Something about it made me want to stay and walk around the place. I placed the mug on the table and paused for a while, reminiscing the times when I would dance in the studio alone when I had a chance. I moved a bit and extended my arms confidently, knowing I was alone. But mid-song, I stopped. I felt a little conscious because of the windows. It was sundown and yet there was still light outside.

I moved the furniture to give myself more space to dance. But before anything, I prepared myself for a bath. It was time to focus on myself and nothing else this time.

By nighttime, I knew I wasn't going to stop.

I had just gotten out of the bathroom and "Sundown" was playing now. Great.

"I'll be waiting if you're down by sundown—" the line really got to me. How fitting.

Slipping on a new nightgown I had bought at the store earlier, I felt different. It was time to recalibrate. I could not focus on other things. I needed to focus on myself more than anything. This was the point of it all, anyway, I thought.

I realised that moving here was for myself. So, finally, I had given myself a pampering session I had always wanted and needed.


Sam's wet skin glistened under the light inside the cottage. She walked across the room with her hand gripping her red towel, looking for the new nightgown she had bought at a store in town. Brahms could not tear his gaze away from Sam's beauty. When she gestured to remove her towel, he gaped at her nakedness. Brahm's breath began to hitch under his porcelain mask while his size grew almost instantly. He tried to move away from the window, making sure he kept his distance. If she saw him, she would come running.

He didn't want her to run. What did he want? What was he doing at her cottage? He had forgotten now.

Brahms had been standing outside stealing glances since sundown. The thought of showing himself to her crossed his mind ever since she ordered him to. However, it was the previous experiences he had that kept him from following her wishes. Plus, he had gotten distracted with her graceful dancing once again. After realising he had been watching her for hours when she stopped dancing, he returned home to write a letter.

But he returned at the wrong time again. She had just gotten out of the shower.

Brahms kept the note in his pocket to slowly reach for his manhood to slowly feel his erection. He kept his eyes on Sam who was getting ready for bed. He had to stop, he ordered himself mentally. He couldn't stop but he knew he had to.

Exasperated, Brahms pulled himself away to walk towards the front porch.

All the while, Sam was lying on her bed. Until she had realised she hadn't locked the front door. Without a sound, Sam clambered out of bed and made her way out of the room.

Just in time for Brahms to slip his note. He nudged the piece of paper under the door, making sure it was inside the house. The white piece of paper had caught Sam's attention, making her pause. Quick-wittedly, Sam rushed to open the door and step out. "Brahms," she whispered.

In a split second, Sam was staring at a figure in the dark, frozen in place.