[author's note: dedicating this chapter to @Chrysbliss , one of my great friends here at Wattpad! She helped me out with a scene later on in this chapter. 😊 read on to find out😉😋 Also, shoutout to her for coming up with the ship name for Joaq and Iri which is #irim!]

"HOW CAN SHE say that? I treated her like a friend, and yet she divulges one of the most sensitive and agonising parts of my life to a total stranger?? I don't give a crap about whether she's her sister or not. This is not what friends do to each other!" 

By now, I am no longer crying. The tears have dried and left me, but the anger remains. My fists are clenched so tightly that my knuckles have turned white and my cheeks are crimson red.

I'm so enraged right now that I can barely control myself. I want to hit something; no, I want to punch the life out of anything.

The aggressor in me scans my surroundings hungrily, and at the corner of my eye, I spot a tall tree standing in an upright and arrogant stance that's so similar to Libby's.

Libby.

I scream at the top of my lungs and run toward it and punch it repeatedly, uncaring of the thin streak of blood that's trickling down my hands.

In my mind, I'm punching her freaking perfect face, her freaking gorgeous body and transforming them into a disfigured face and body. How can one be so blessed to have both looks and brains? Trust fund. Hmph. Everything Libby has is from her family. Without her trust fund, 'Libby's Bath' would never exist. Without her family, she won't even have a trust fund to begin with. Without her parents' care, she can't even use the bloody fund.

I'd rather have an arranged and controlled life than a life of dealing with pain. I'd rather lose emotions and become a trophy wife or an soulless person if it meant that I won't ever experience the poverty I had endured through as a wee child.

How can she whine about her privileged life? She's so petty too. Choosing OU over UOS just to rebel against her family. So freaking petty.

Oh, how her life must have sucked.

In my mind, the tree is retaliating. The tree is smirking at me, snarling tauntingly at my feeble punches. You can't even make a dent in me, the tree is saying. You're so pathetic. So weak. So small.

"I'M NOT WEAK! I'M NOT SMALL! I'M ANYTHING BUT THAT!" I throw a series of continuous punches as I belt out a creative string of curses at the tree. I'm so drained of energy that I'm even panting, but I can't find it in me to stop.

I'm so focused on hitting the tree that I don't even realise that I've been yanked away and am on the ground. I'm still even performing the same motions as I can feel the phantom feeling of hitting wood when Joaquim pours water on my hands.

The stinging feeling elicited from that jolts me out of my stupor. "What the hell? OW!" I am truly surprised that my hands are hurting so terribly.

"You idiot. I went down on my knees and practically begged you to just stop, but you wouldn't. You idiot, you idiot. I begged so hard and tried to drag you away from that darn tree but you were hitting it like a woman possessed. Don't do this anymore Irina. Please." Joaquim says chokingly, and to my horror, tears are streaming down his cheeks.

I've never seen him cry.

"Oh, Joaquim. No, Joaquim, don't cry... oh, Joaq, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Joaq..." I cry too, but not for my bleeding hands. I cry for my bleeding heart and him.

Joaquim sobs and is a piteous sight to see especially while he tears off cloth from his jacket to use as a bandage for my hands. He puts it on as gently as possible after disinfecting it thoroughly.

"Let's go to my home; you've no proper band-aid kit in your house," he decides, and thus off we go.

___

Joaquim's home is very much similar to his office back at the store and the type of house that he resides in is a bungalow. I have never really seen the appeal in them- after all, they are so small and only have one floor. 

While I know that you can expand it by adding a room in a basement or make use of the attic, I really see no use for them. Both the attic and basement are stuffy areas and you can never install a window there. What's the point in being cooped up there?

And yet, Joaquim challenges my previous view by minimising his home. In fact, he does it so well that he makes the tiny bungalow seem more spacious than my loft.

He manages this as he currently lives one of the most trendy lifestyles right now- the minimalist life. Due to his minimalistic life, Joaq has a plethora of interesting furniture and all of them have a common feature: they are space saving.

Even his bed has to abide by the rule. His bed is a pull-out roller bed, meaning that you can extend it to have an add-on small sofa right next to your bed. The bed is rather flexible too- it can be pulled out from both sides.

I know this as this was one of the various random things he boasted about whenever we had a break together during work. Originally, I had thought that the bed would be stiff and uncomfortable to sleep on but the headboard and mattress base is rather solid and comfy, likely due to its thick foam feature.

It's obvious he has a teal-and-white theme going on in his home; his bedroom and kitchen are white, the bathrooms are navy while the living and dining room are teal coloured. It is so practical, just like his office.

Usually, I loathe predictability. Today, however, predictability is something I like.  

"Heh, my plan is a total success." Joaquim remarks as he observes me moving about his house like a curious cat.

"Your plan?"

"To make you forget about that."

That. Libby. Ah. 

"Oh my gosh, you're right. I was occupied with thoughts of your bed instead of Libby. Thank you, Joaquim."

"Ah... wait, my bed? My, erm, bed?"

"Yes... can lie on it? It seems spongy and soft."

"Sure," Joaquim mutters, and seems agitated for some unknown reason. "I'll go get you a cup of tea. What do you want?"

"Ceylon tea," I answer, and run towards the bed before jumping on it childishly. 

___

"You should pick up Libby's call, dummy. You might end up losing your job at this rate." Pat lectures while eating another spoonful of bolognese pasta. "Most employees would be picking up their bosses' call at the speed of light."

"Most bosses wouldn't be calling their employees at 1am in the morning."

"Most friends wouldn't be ordering their friend to cook after finding out that they used to be a chef," Joaquim carps and sighs despondently. "Worse still, you're ordering me around in my own home. Have you no conscience?"

"We have none." I clarify this by stealing three meatballs and a couple mouthfuls of spaghetti from Joaquim's plate. "Yummy," I tease while I lick the sauce off my lips.

"And you!" Joaquim wags his finger at me accusingly. "I've fed you, bandaged you, comforted you, hugged you, lent you a listening ear... what more do you want?"

"She wants you to date her," Pat's unanticipated reply makes me sputter and choke on my noodle.

"Gosh! Why aren't you... ugh, let me do it," Joaquim interferes and smacks my back hard while Pat just lounges easily and eats another mouthful.

"You two," Pat waves her fork between us, "are like a real couple. Like boyfriend and girlfriend. Except that you haven't kissed yet. Or cuddled. You two are like the couple that loves each other a lot, but for some insane reason, thinks it's a secret even though it's so obvious and the whole world knows it but you."

The only sentence I remember is 'Except that you haven't kissed yet.' from her Oscar-worthy speech.

Except that you haven't kissed yet.

From Joaquim's red face, I know that's what's on his mind too.

Joaquim's kiss on my right cheek.

"Why are you two so red? Oh my god! DID YOU KISS AND NOT TOLD ME, IRI? DID YOU ALL DO THE SMOOCHIE-SMOOCHIE? AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO DOESN'T KNOW?"

"Smoochie-smoochie? Babe, are you high? No... it's... erm, no. We didn't kiss."

"She's right. I kissed her on her cheek. She didn't do anything." Joaquim suddenly clarifies. I'm pretty sure it's an unintended one and one of those silent thoughts people tend to have when his hand leaves my back and he grabs his empty plate.

"I will do the dishes," he says, and grabs Pat's plate too.

He leaves the dining room speedily before you can even say 'Joaquim' and fails to hear Pat's protest in the process.

"Hey! I have two meatballs left... why didn't you take Irina's?" She glances at me with mirth in her eyes. "The boyfriend remembers his girlfriend's hunger even in his subconsciousness... babe, he's so whipped for you."

___

Is he really? Does he really like me in a non-platonic way?

OH MY GOD WHAT IF HE REJECTS ME WHEN I CONFESS?

What am I even thinking?? Do I actually have romantic feelings for Joaquim? Do I want him to be mi amor?

I can't help but chuckle at my ridiculous thoughts. They make me feel like a young, hormonal teenage girl obsessing over her first crush.

They make me feel young.

He makes me feel young.

He makes me feel hope, too. 

I toss and turn in his bed, and a naughty thought crosses my mind. What if I...? I feel my ears and cheeks redden but I do it nonetheless. I take his blanket in my hand and breathe in the musky, manly scent of Joaquim.

I am a hormonal young adult. I release the poor, defenseless blanket and switch on the night lamp. 

Before seeing Joaquim's bedroom, I had a low opinion of white bedrooms. I felt that it would be easily dirtied and too bright of a room, but Joaquim decorated and added enough personal touches to imbue the room with a relaxed, airy vibe. I love the warm glow of the light that his night lamp emits as it makes me feel refreshed. Joaquim has also placed a cute, wide sofa in front of the bed where he can read or rest just by crawling down his bed.

That personal touch shows that he is also sometimes a lazy person, and I love that about him. It's nearly impossible to feel dislike towards him. We also have much in common too.

It's 2am, and I can't sleep because my brain is thinking of a certain someone. A certain someone that is sleeping on the dining room sofa. My heart flutters when I recall how he offered me his bed and Pat the guest room in the basement. Pat had winked at me when she heard that, and I will never understand how I managed to remain poker-faced at that.

His bedroom!

Oh, get a grip, Irina.

Feeling thirsty, I get off his bed and head towards the kitchen. Since the living room is just a hallway away from the kitchen, I use my phone's light to guide me through the kitchen for fear of waking Joaquim up. 

Yet I find myself being pulled towards the living room. It's as if Joaquim has some strong, hidden magnetic-force around him, and I am just a penny unable to resist his magnetic charm.

I set the glass of water down and let myself go towards him.

My Joaquim is sleeping soundly, but he's obviously shivering from the cold as he only has a striped red jacket thrown around his shoulders. The silly boy has also set the air-conditioner temperature to 23°C.

Anxious that he will catch a cold, I run to his room and use it to drape and cover every inch of his body. I smile and my heart warms when he instinctively snuggles against the cottony blanket, and mumble inaudible words. Then he kicks off a pillow and snores.

Suppressing a laugh, I put the pillow back and decide to return to the bedroom. Before I leave though, I do one last thing.

"Goodnight, Joaquim... and I, I... I like you."

This was a really easy chapter to write hehe 😍😘🥰 something is definitely blooming! Do you think the two are taking things to slow or is it at an ok speed? 

To those who find it slow, I'm sorry! I'm trying to write a realistic romance. In my experience, friends can become bf and gf but it takes a long while to do so.