That night, I decided to make dinner.

Arriving home, I began to work. I would clean up myself later, but for now, I wanted to give myself a good amount of time to prepare the food. I had never actually cooked before, only watched my mother cook and would sometimes help.

Each apartment came with half-prepped food, recipe books on shelves, and fresh produce. It had all been here when we arrived, along with our belongings. I still had to cook it though, which was the worrying part. I had to choose something easy, but I didn't want to choose a cheap way out. I wanted to do something nice for him.

Deciding on Spaghetti Bolognese, I began to collect the ingredients. The recipe listed various vegetables, herbs, and spices, many names I didn't recognize. Even so, I gathered everything and began to prep it, before following the simple steps.

I had not expected cooking to be so messy. Cutting boards soaked in tomato juice and mincemeat rested in the sink. Various bowls and utensils across the bench-top. The kitchen appeared as if a bomb had gone off. If I wasn't a mess when I had arrived home, I was certainly one now.

An hour and a half later, I finished. My head rang from the wounds I neglected, but I ignored them. Serving it into two bowls, I grinned at how nice it looked. Sure, it didn't exactly look like the recipe, but it was edible. And god, was I proud.

I jumped, the door clicking open. Staring out the window, I noticed how much I lost track of time, the setting sun's rays shining through the window. Placing down the final dry bowl, I walked over to the table, ecstatic for Jake to see what I had made. My heart leaped, as he smiled at the table I had set up.

Fake flowers rested in the center, white napkins beside each dish, opposite lay a spoon and fork. Sitting down on one of the chairs, I poured water into the glasses, still grinning. He sat down across from me, red rushing to his cheeks.

"What's all this?" he said, placing down his helmet on the ground beside his chair. He removed his gloves, before placing them on the table. He stared down at it in disbelief.

"It's dinner, I made it... it's not the best but it's edible," I said proudly, picking up a fork. He did the same but hesitated for a moment. He met my eyes, his face still flustered.

"Any reason?" Jake said, looking at me. His eyes held a slight bit of doubt. My smile weakened, and I hoped he didn't think this was a trick. We hadn't seen each other since earlier, and I assumed he wanted to talk about it. Maybe he thought I was avoiding it?

"I just..." I paused. Last night he had slammed the watch onto the table, as we argued. I wish last night had never happened. I wish I had kept my mouth shut and accepted the watch. He deserved someone so much better than me, someone, I couldn't be. But you can't change the past. Ashamed, I continued, "I wanted to make it up to you for how I treated you. Next break, I plan on going to get the watch fixed,"

The air was still.

"Thank you," he said his smile broadening. I smiled back, relieved he didn't want to fight again. He seemed so genuinely thankful, and it made my heart beat harder. He dug his fork into the pasta, beginning to eat.

We didn't talk for the next few minutes, focusing on eating. He ate a lot, despite the dish already being larger than I had expected. I assumed he was hungry, and thanked my past self for overestimating servings. It must have been so much work being a guard.

In only two days he seemed to have learned so much. Earlier, he had tackled me in a way to trap me from moving. The cuts on his face and hands proved he had already done many dangerous things.

"This was so good," Jake said, standing up and picking up both bowls. Despite how exhausted he must be, he was still willing to clean. He smiled at me but hesitated as he noticed the cuts still covering my face. "Oh god, I didn't even notice you haven't cleaned yourself up at all?"

"It's fine," I lied. He placed the bowls into the sink and turned on the hot water. I stood up, "I've got to wash up anyway,"

"No it's not, and no I'll clean, let me patch you up," he said, beginning to wash the dishes in soapy water. I picked up the glasses and brought them to the sink. He had done too much for me, I didn't also need him to fix my cuts. I would do it, besides I had brought this on myself.

"No, it's fine..." I said, walking over and switching on the kitchen, dining room, and living room lights. Turning back around, I winced as a pain shot up my back. He must've noticed, as he frowned.

"It's my fault, I hurt you," he said, placing the bowls in the drying rack. He continued to clean, shaking his head to himself. Ignoring him, I walked over to the cabinet and retrieved the first aid kit. He finished washing up, turning around to face me as the sink drained, "Please, let me help."

I ignored him. I didn't want him to help me. I had brought this upon myself so it was only fair that I took care of myself. Finding various bandages, alcohol wipes, and plasters, I walked over to the lounge.

He followed me, not a word spoken between us. Sitting down on the sofa, he stood in front of me, crossing his arms. I continued to ignore him, ripping the end off an alcohol wipe tab, and began to brush it over some of the cuts on my face.

"Come on, let me do it," he said, a slightly playful tone hung in his voice. Shaking my head, I continued. He did not move, his arms still crossed defiantly. I sighed, realizing how difficult it was to fix up every wound by myself.

"Okay," I didn't want to, but my back still ached from when he slammed me to the ground. Grinning, he uncrossed his arms and sat beside me. He gathered everything from my hands and I sighed in relief.

However selfish it was, it felt nice to be taken care of.

As his face grew closer, I could see the extent of his injuries. A bruise was forming under his eye, lips cracked, and cuts around his neck. I wanted to fix him up as well, but he wouldn't let me, nor was my body in a place to do so. He rested the bandages and plasters on the coffee table, taking another alcohol wipe.

"I didn't realize I'd hurt you this bad," he said, his left hand gently resting under my chin. He carefully wiped a cut under my jaw, one I hadn't even noticed was there. I winced, the alcohol stinging, but a strange giddiness also surrounded me. My heart raced as soon as he placed his hand under my chin. He seemed not to notice, his focus on the cuts, "I wouldn't have done it if I knew it was you,"

"I mean we only just met and I was a total bitch I wouldn't blame you even if you knew it was me," I said, only half joking. I did deserve it, anybody could see that. He sat back a bit, frowning once more, and shook his head. He gave me a small smile before beginning to place the plasters on my face.

"We were both at fault," he said, grabbing another alcohol tab. He gave a half-smile, "Let's just leave it at that,"

For the next 10 or so minutes, we sat in silence. My heart would race every time he would rest his hand on my arm or bring his face so close I could hear him breathing. Every time he would place his hand on my cheek to fix the cut under my eye I would find myself blushing.

I don't know why I was like this.

I mean, it's not like I liked him. I had met him mere days ago, and he had Jessie. We weren't perfect for each other as our fight had proven. But I couldn't help that feeling whenever he would get closer to me.

After he finished, he threw away the wipes and plastic from the plasters. He sat down in a chair near the lounge, softly smiling. I stared at him, and as the pain subsided, I realized how tired I was. Yawning, I rested my head against a pillow.

"I'm gonna go get changed, okay?" he said, and I nodded. Closing my eyes for a moment. Today had been a roller coaster, physically and mentally. Completely drained, I prayed that my job would not be exhausting.

I wondered if I would be alone, or have another person beside me. Maybe somebody I knew from school. I did not recall anybody being called for computer technology, but it's not like I remembered much from that day.

He walked into the room, wearing a loose grey shirt and shorts. Rubbing my heavy eyes, resting my head against the pillow again, I looked at him. He seemed much more relaxed out of the uniform, but now I could see the bruises covering his legs.

"I know we just met, and we've had a lot of arguments," Jake said, his own tired eyes resting on me. I sat up slightly, still resting against the pillow. The smell of dinner still hung in the air. He continued, "But I feel as though we have a lot in common,"

"I still don't know that much about you," I said, returning the tired smile. For the first time today, I was calm. Able to sit and relax, not thinking too deeply, "Why don't we just- talk about ourselves for a bit?"

"I'd like that,"

So we talked. Talked, for hours, about him, about me. We were both tired, but the conversation wasn't exhausting. I loved hearing him talk about his family, and empathized with the loss in his eyes as he talked about them.

He had touched on Jessie briefly, clearly not wanting to hurt me, and focused more on his friends and family. I kind of wanted to know about her, and why he seemed to be so infatuated with her. Maybe another day, but for now I wouldn't argue.

He seemed to be as social as he was charming, talking about his classmates. How one boy from his class had been from another city, named Robert. They had become close friends, and I inquired about the other city.

"It's so much stricter there apparently," he said, interest peaked in his voice. He continued, "Lower's are treated as slaves. The death penalty is way more enforced there. He was a part of a group that had to move to another city because they reached the population gap.

I also talked about my friends. Well, friend – Marie. Of course, I talked about Marie and Lillian, but I began to delve more into Marie. I never had a chance to talk about her, and what happened to her. She was my best friend just a few years ago. Then one day, after going to a therapy appointment, she was gone.

"Wait- so she just vanished? You never saw her again?" Jake said, just as shocked as I had been at the time. I nodded, shifting in my seat, exhausted.

"Yeah," I said, still as perplexed by the thought as I had been the day she went missing. I was given no explanation of what happened, "She was my best friend, and then one day she disappeared. She was so nice to me, I just can't wrap my head around what could've happened,"

"I'm so sorry, I can't imagine what you must've gone through," he said, and I smiled at his sympathy. I don't understand how someone can be as nice as him, "But you had other friends right?"

"Not really, only Charlie and Lillian," I said. He frowned, tilting his head to the side, grimacing. I continued, "I'm not good with people; they tend to not like me,"

"I like you," he exclaimed. My cheeks burned red, and within a moment his did too. He smiled, hiding his face for a moment behind his hand. I looked away. He stuttered, continuing, "I mean like, uh, not in that way of course- I mean of course not in that way, I mean we just met and there's Jessie- god I'm sorry I brought her up again,"

"It's okay. I understand what you're trying to say," I said, the red fading from my cheeks but remaining on his. After a brief moment passed, I decided to ask a question I never thought I would, "Can you tell me about Jessie?"

"Are you sure?" he stammered, and I winced at the excitement in his voice. He must've noticed, shaking his head as if to discipline himself. "I really don't want you to feel bad and there's nothing to do about it now she's with Scott. It's fine, I don't want to talk about something that'll make you feel uncomfortable,"

"It's fine," I insisted. Usually, I would have been thankful that he didn't want me to feel uncomfortable. But I knew it was something he wished to talk about. I nodded, smiling, "I want to hear. I want to know more about you, and she means a lot to you. Please don't worry about me,"

"Are you sure I don't-" He stammered, worry-filled his eyes, but I insisted again.

"Please, I want to know," I said. And it was true. I didn't care if it hurt, I wanted to listen to his passion when he talked about her. The way his hold body would light up. The smile grew on his face like a rising sun.

"You look tired, you need me to help you to bed?" Jake said, trying to change the conversation. I smiled at his stubbornness, before shaking my head.

"No it's fine I'll sleep on the sofa," I said, having already been sitting on the couch it only seemed fitting. After all, he had slept on the sofa yesterday so it would only be fair.

"It won't be good for your back, especially after how hurt you got," he said. At this point, I was too tired to try and bring the conversation back to Jessie. However, I would not let him do another nice thing for me. It was my turn.

"I have to get up early for tomorrow anyway, please don't worry," I said again, and he gave me a sad smile. Even in my tired state, I was winning. He stood up from the chair, crossed his arms, and looked down at me.

"I don't know-" he said, grimacing. I smiled again.

"I'm not moving," I said. A smile grew on his face again.

"You're so stubborn," he teased. My heart jumped.

"So are you," I said, rolling his eyes, but still keeping the playful smile on his face.

"Yeah yeah," he said, playfully dismissing me, and walked over to the light switch. He threw me a blanket, smiling, and I smiled back. "Goodnight,"

"Goodnight," I said, as he flicked off the light switch.

*

"Wha~?" the sound of my watch startled me awake. The small beeping echoed through the living room, and I scrambled to turn it off. The time read 7:00 am. I knew I had to be at work by 8, and work was at Grayhem, wherever that was. I sighed, realizing I would never get to see that beautiful garden again.

After sitting on the sofa for a moment, recalling where I was, I sighed before getting up. Quietly, I slipped into the bedroom. Jake was still fast asleep, he must've been exhausted from work. I noticed bruises around his neck now and cuts up his arms. Why hadn't he told me?

His work seemed rough. I hoped I wouldn't suffer something similar.

Work uniform was simple, a black synthetic mix sweater, the city emblem on the top right breast. Grey cotton and jean blend for pants, and a white cotton button-up top. And of course, for ease of access, combat boots.

It also came with a jacket for cold days. Red sleeves to match the city emblem, no logo, however, it did have many pockets, which I did enjoy. My watch had told me that it would be chilly, so I decided to wear it.

Making my way into the kitchen to make myself breakfast, I decided to make Jake some toast, as he had done for me. I know it wasn't much, but the trip to Grayhem was scheduled as a 30-minute train ride. I didn't have enough time to make anything more, so the oats had to do.

I made my 90-second porridge, and as I ate it, I scribbled down a note on a loose piece of paper near the counter. Not unlike the one Jake had left for me.

I'm off to work. Hope you enjoy the toast :)

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I buttered the toast which I had also managed to burn. I decided to blame the toaster, for two people burning toast surely wasn't a coincidence. I frowned at it, before heading out of the house.

I had the watch in the right bottom pocket of the jacket. I hoped that maybe if I wasn't too tired I could go out and get it fixed. But, work finished late, so I might not have enough time. I tried to stay hopeful, however, as I exited the hallway, locking the door behind me.

Making my way to the elevator, I pressed the down button. It turned orange, as I waited for the doors to open. I could see my distorted reflection in the metal door, and honestly, I couldn't say the uniform was ugly. It was comfortable too, designed for sitting around for hours on end.

God, I didn't want this job.

I never knew anybody who liked computers. I mean, I had wanted to get into writing of some sort, journalism, and report on all the chaos the world seemed to get into, so I should have expected to work with computers. But really, my dream job would be working in the library.

A librarian. I know, I'm super lame.

But I love the smell of books, used ones. Flicking to the front of the page and seeing what date it was published, some over a century ago. Seeing how the paper and ink had reacted over time. Helping people choose stories where they can escape into nothing.

The doors opened, and I paused.

"Um, hi," I said, slightly taken back by seeing another person. He shifted his eyes onto me for a moment before looking away. I stepped onto the elevator and saw the G button was already orange. Staring at him, he gave me no glance.

"Hello," Scott said, shifting his glasses up. It was weird seeing Jessie's match again, and I wondered if he was going through as much trouble as we were. If he was, he wasn't showing it. Actually, he wasn't showing anything.

He wasn't that much taller than me. Wearing an identical uniform to my own, except without the jacket. For a moment, I was relieved that I would know someone at my work. But that switched to disappointment as I remember icy he had been towards me.

I mean, I didn't know for sure he was working in computer technology. The uniform was very common, and it could easily be any other job. He shifted slightly under my gaze, and I turned away.

"Are you off to work?" I said, trying to start a light conversation. I stared straight ahead, looking at our blurred and distorted reflection in the metal.

"Yes," he said blankly. I gulped, and the lump in my throat returned. His delivery was cold, and he did nothing to continue the conversation.

I secretly hoped he would also be doing my job as much as I secretly hoped he wouldn't. Having someone I know would be good, given how unlucky I was to receive it. However, having him would do nothing. He would be as much company as the computer itself.

"Cool," I said, startled by how nervous my voice sounded. He said nothing, and as the floors continued to tick down, I decided to ask, "So what job did you get?"

"Computer technology,"