2019

Nobody needed me to reaffirm that being social was more palatable in small doses, so I wasn't sure how Nikau had quickly become the exception to that rule. I wasn't even the one who initiated it, which made my immersion into it that much more surprising.

One slow day at work a couple of weeks after Leimomi's graduation, my name was paged over the speakers calling me to the front desk because I had a client requesting to work with me. I should have realized then that something was up since I rarely had people ask for me by name. (I wasn't about to win employee of the month any time soon.) I was caught off guard to find Nikau standing there talking to the self-proclaimed office guard.

It didn't take a genius to recognize they were all smitten with him. Who could blame them? His megawatt smile was on full display for the office staff to bask beneath its glow, and they soaked it up as easily as the sun on a warm summer's day.

I admired how easily it came to them, the ability to let people witness their admiration instead of shying away from expressing it. Even knowing someone could see me at all made my skin crawl most of the time. That didn't even account for someone like Nikau being the one to witness my existence. I wondered what it was like to actively seek out attention or not be afraid of holding onto it.

"The phone is ringing," I noted as I pulled up beside him at the counter.

None of them moved a muscle. Nikau had successfully reeled them in and they weren't looking to be set loose.

"Is it?" Someone replied. "I hadn't noticed."

I laughed. Took in the familiar intricacies of his tattoos up close. "I noticed you not noticing."

It was all in jest. They were harmless. It didn't mean there wasn't some internal reaction to seeing them respond to his presence in such a way. When it was just the two of us at his apartment, we were equals, even if he still found it much easier to break out of his shell than I did. When the two of us were side by side in public, I was hyper aware that we were perceived in two completely different ways.

"You bought from here before, right?" Someone else asked, their words dripping with honey. "I remember your face. Hoku kept you all to herself over there but I remember you."

Nikau flashed them another smile, assuming he had even stopped since walking inside the building, and I refrained from rolling my eyes. Older aunties always had a way of saying exactly what you never wanted them to.

"Or maybe I was just... doing my job?"

"No." They shook their head. "I don't think that's right."

"Well, then." I placed my hand on Nikau's arm and guided him back toward my store's side. "I'll remember to send him over to you next time."

"Don't threaten us with a good time."

They shouted at us as I pulled him out of the lion's den.

Once we were back in the safety of Red, I felt more at ease, regardless of Nikau's surprise visit. Even when I looked at him expectantly and waited for an explanation, he only casually sat down on one of the side chairs placed near the front registers. Like it was the most normal thing for him to just show up unannounced.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"That was more like a hi? What are you doing here?"

His left eyebrow raised. "Do you not want me here? I can leave."

"I didn't say that."

"So you want me to stay?"

I crossed my arms. "I didn't say that either. I just wanted to know why you're here."

Nikau laughed and tapped the seat next to him. After a quick glance around to ensure there weren't any customers in our section, I took his suggestion. I didn't need much convincing. Work was always work, even on its good days.

"I wanted to see you," he said. So plainly that I didn't quite catch it at first and had to repeat it to myself. It didn't occur to me that I might have looked like a deer in headlights while I did. "You don't have to look so confused. This hanging out thing... it's a normal thing when you like someone."

I inwardly flinched at his choice of words. "I'm not normal then."

His eyebrows pinched together. "That's not what I meant."

"I'm sorry." I sighed and slouched down into the seat. As pretty as it looked, it was also in pristine condition since it was kept up near the front of the shop which meant it was not as comfortable as any of the chairs we had at home. Nothing ever felt as good as the ones we had at home. "Work has been... work. Annoying as always."

"It's fine," he quickly reassured. "I didn't mean to intrude. If it bothers you, I won't show up announced anymore."

"No, no, you're fine."

The longer I sat with him, the more the tension in my shoulders loosened. Often, I became numb to the daily stress of life that built up slowly enough I never realized what had become of it until it was a fortress guarding my comfort against breaching my heart.

"It's just me." It was always me. I was the problem even when there wasn't one. "All in my head."

Nikau was aware of the effect his smile had on everyone, and he used it to his advantage. More often than not, or maybe it was just my perception of him based on how he reacted to me, he used it to try and soften those otherwise sharp moments. A well-placed smile right before someone felt their momentary happiness slip away helped to prolong the inevitable.

It wasn't that he stared at me like I was some scared child that couldn't take care of herself. But there was something sad in his eyes whenever he likely thought I was being unfairly hard on myself for something that was probably a totally normal feeling.

I wasn't sure what was considered normal anymore. I wasn't sure if I ever did.

"I'm not used to people liking being around me," I admitted before I realized the words were slipping out.

"Maybe a lot more people do but you just don't allow yourself to admit it," he retorted.

"No." I shook my head. "I'd know." I would, right? I could tell the difference between people who liked me and people who tolerated me. There was a difference.

Before he could respond, the bell above the door chimed signaling a customer which effectively cut off any chance to. I jumped to my feet to greet the customer who couldn't give two shits about my presence and brushed me off just as quickly. By the time I turned around, Nikau had already picked up one of the home decor magazines we had lying around the showroom.

Any awkwardness I might have caused that day had been quickly and quietly forgotten by the time I ended my shift and notified Keali'i that I didn't need a ride home anymore. He didn't sound surprised to hear the reason why and told me that no matter what we were doing, I should relax and enjoy myself.

Naturally, as two people in love with music, we saw Rocketman together at the theater inside Pearlridge. I didn't realize how fun going to a movie with someone else could be when it was someone whose company I enjoyed. We shared a large popcorn drenched with an unhealthy amount of butter, laughed and smiled until it felt like it was never going to stop, and then I cried for the first time in a long time over something that didn't have anything to do with my perpetual sadness. It was the kind of cry released for one thing but was really helping another

If it was anyone else, I might have been embarrassed. Nikau offered me the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe them away. As he pulled his arm back after, a dark grey stain was left behind on his otherwise pristine sleeve.

I eyed that stain as we walked back to his car in silence, waiting until it disappeared.

...

"Is this seriously what your 7-Eleven looks like?"

"You ever been?" I asked as we trekked through the aisles. The store was so dead empty that the late-night cashier was barely awake behind the register, their head resting against the wall with a video playing on their phone.

"Only in the States," he answered, eyes wide with childlike wonder. "None of them looked like this."

It didn't happen often, but I loved going to the store so late at night that it felt like we were the only ones left awake. One of my favorite times happened when Kanani and I slept over at her friend's house back before I joined her at Kaiser. She lived in Kalama Valley, near Sandy Beach. Sometime before midnight, we had decided to take a spontaneous trip down to 7-Eleven which was only about a ten-minute drive away, so we thought walking there wouldn't be a big deal. It ended up taking us almost an hour and we were tired as hell, but the giant Slurpee we had gotten, the only thing a bunch of teenagers without a job could afford, was somehow the best thing I had ever tasted. There was something magical that night, sitting on the ground in front of a convenience store and passing around a plastic cup filled with a questionable mix of slushie flavors.

Nikau held up a small bowl. "Pho? They have pho here?"

"It's actually not bad." I took it from him and placed it back on the refrigerated shelf. "What are you in the mood for?" Although we ate a large popcorn at the movie, it had been a few hours since we left the theater by now.

His eyes scanned over the extended shelves. Most of the prepared food had been picked over throughout the day so it wasn't as well-stocked as it was in the morning. As he wandered further down, I followed closely behind with my hands clasped behind my back.

"Their musubis are a classic," I offered as we stopped in front of the heated display cases. "And their manapua and pork hash isn't bad either."

"We'll take it all, then."

Before I could stop him, Nikau lifted the door and started pulling out one of each food item in the case. I excused myself to grab us both some drinks—Arizona Green Tea for him, Mountain Dew Code Red for me, a couple of bottles of water for each of us, just in case—and met back up with him at the cash register.

We took them outside where we were met with an equally deserted wasteland of a parking lot. Without much thought, I sat right alongside the store's front wall, placing my items down next to me, and Nikau wordlessly followed my lead.

Time never felt like a true friend, more like that kind of friend you could never quite tell if they were genuine or talking about you behind your back. It either ran too quickly that it easily slipped away and left me floundering around on my own or, often when I wanted that, dragged so slowly it felt like my feet were stuck in cement.

It seemed strange to think back to that night with Kanani and her friend that happened over a decade ago. When I closed my eyes, it felt like yesterday and an entire lifetime ago.

We ate our food in silence, as comfortably as any other exchanged between us in the past. As someone who spent most of her life not talking but listening to the world around her, I understood it to be impossible to be friends with someone that couldn't appreciate the same quieter moments in life.

"What's the Māori name for Auckland?" I asked once he started tossing all of our trash into the paper bag.

"Tāmaki Makaurau."

I repeated the name and paused to make sure my pronunciation was okay. He nodded. "How long has it been?"

He looked taken aback by his own answer. "Couple of years now, I think?"

"Wait, what?" I blinked. "That's... wild. I didn't realize. I thought you came straight from there."

"Yeah," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. The wind had picked up so he pulled his long sleeves back down. "It just started as hopping to a bunch of different cities to play any shows I could book. And then it kind of became my norm."

"I thought you said you weren't running away from anything?"

"Did I?" He cracked a smile.

"So instead of going back, you thought you'd come here?" I asked. He nodded again. "Who shipped all of your equipment for you, then?"

"My cousin. We share an apartment there."

"Do you live in the city?" I asked. Not that I knew much about Tāmaki Makaurau, but most of the travel vlogs I had come across tended to show Auckland City life.

Nikau stretched out the leg closest to me while he kept the other knee up so he could rest his arm on it. "Yeah, we moved there about a year before I left. It's not my favorite place to be and all, I prefer somewhere a bit more laid back, but it's still nice compared to other cities. Not too busy that you can't hear yourself think."

I laughed once and stared down at my hands. "Sometimes I wish I lived somewhere like that."

"No, you don't," Nikau replied immediately. Confidently. Like he knew me.

"Right," I confirmed with another laugh. "But, like, the idea of it. Of not having to hear myself think all the time. It sounds nice."

For the second time that night, Nikau looked genuinely confused by my comments. "Why?"

"Because? I just... don't like what my brain has to say sometimes."

I wasn't sure how else to answer. Most of the time, whenever I said something like that, whoever I was talking to either pretended they didn't hear it or found a way to change the subject. It wasn't anybody's fault and I didn't blame them, but most people didn't want a real answer when they asked if I was okay or if something was on my mind. The question was set up for me to reassure them that I was, even if that reassurance came at the expense of the truth.

His face changed and I instantly regretted making the comment in the first place. We were talking about him and his life in Aotearoa, not me and my problems. Now all he was going to want to do was pick me apart and figure out why I was such a downer in the way I always was, even when I was having a good time.

"I like your brain," he said after I turned away to become fixated on some random patch of gravel. "I like the way you think. Even though you can be kind of mean to yourself sometimes."

"Are you saying I'm my own bully?"

"I'm saying if you heard somebody else make the same comments you make about yourself to someone like Kanani, you'd probably hate them and think they were being rude as shit."

He didn't sugarcoat his sentiments, even if his voice remained calm and steady. There wasn't any judgment in them, but there was a desire to not hear them anymore. And not in an I don't want to hear about this kind of way but a please be nicer to yourself kind of way.

"I'm shutting it off for a bit," I said firmly. "Tell me about Aotearoa instead."

"One day, we're going to talk and you won't want to keep running away from me and you'll realize how great it feels to just let it all out," he said.

"I'm not running away," I replied. "I'm right here."

"Yeah, but where's this?" He tapped the side of my head gently.

"Taking a short break." I paused. "Please? I want to know more about where you're from."

Nikau looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do—eyebrows pinched, lips pursed, fingers curling into a first before releasing—but like I knew he would, he did what I asked. He spoke about the city more and how despite all the problems he had with it, he loved the comfort of being able to walk outside and feel a sense of belonging. It didn't matter if he couldn't recognize most of the faces he passed on the streets, especially during the busy tourist seasons when cruise ships docked and flooded the city with visitors.

He told me about his cousin Kauri who was more like a brother than anything else. Like all great love stories, theirs diverged onto what was considered opposite paths, with Kauri becoming the first doctor in their family. For a long time, Nikau compared himself to his cousin, feeling wholly inadequate in his career for a multitude of reasons. It wasn't until he left Aotearoa for the first time, years before this current expedition, that he found it in himself to not think that way anymore. He was happy with what he was doing and that was all that mattered. Which, he added, probably for my benefit, was easier said than done, so he understood getting to that place wasn't an easy road, but a necessary one. Still, whatever tensions arose between them during those difficult years never diminished the way they leaned on each other time and time again, even if they lived in completely different worlds.

When he told me being away from Kauri was especially difficult since their grandfather and only guardian growing up had passed away a year before he left—he neither confirmed any other familial relations or lack thereof, nor if his grandfather passing was the reason they moved to the city in the first place, but I didn't push him for elaboration about either—I somehow managed to grow even quieter. Instead of reminding myself to interject short comments here and there, maybe a hum or a swift nod, I let his voice take over all of those thoughts I had inexplicably been trying to ignore.

As he spoke about these two men I knew nothing of but understood greatly just how much he loved them and missed them, both for different reasons and in different capacities, I remembered that I wasn't alone.