||SERAH||

We are walking through the vast lobby in the Dana building towards the bank of elevators. Through the ride, Asahd broke the silence so we could talk about ourselves and get to know each other a little. Everything he told me I already knew. However, I didn't tell him that. On the contrary, I chose to listen to him. After all, he was expounding on everything a little bit. I had just begun telling him about myself when his phone rang with an important call from some guy named Gabriel.

That was the end of our introductory conversation because he spoke on the phone for the rest of the ride. They were talking of things concerning a coastal tour, choreography, and projects. By the time he was done, he had already parked the car outside the building at least ten minutes earlier. When we get to the right elevator, he pushes the open button and we step in with an elderly woman in toe. She is in glasses and presumably, she's also going for an eye check-up.

"You don't have claustrophobia, right?" Asahd teasingly asks as the elevator starts.

"No, I don't," I respond shaking my head.

"Are you sure, Mawia?" he asks using my tribal name.

When it comes from his mouth it sounds good. Well, better compared to when mom uses it. It often carries with it a threat, a warning, or an incoming lecture.

"Serah," I say with a scowl making him smile.

His smile might turn into one of my biggest weaknesses if he keeps showing it off. Seemingly, he likes to smile I'm almost tempted to ask if he is a happy child. He would fit right in because his smile comes so easily. I swear if it turns into a weakness it is going to ruin me.

"Mawia," he counters and without thinking, I poke my tiny fist into his hard muscles. "That wasn't so nice of you," he groans.

"Don't call me Mawia again," I warn with a show of my tiny fist.

He checks it out and shakes his head while trying to hide a smile. Way to look down on my tiny fist, Asahd.

"I will try not to," he says even though his face tells me otherwise.

The woman beside us keeps staring at us and it is nagging me. If this is what Asahd feels like when I keep staring at him like a creep then it has to be very uncomfortable. I'll make sure not to ever repeat that. I'm not promising though. He's too handsome and hot not to stare at whenever a chance pops up.

"You look nervous," he notably points out.

"Very nervous," I state looking up at him.

"Of what?" he asks sounding concerned.

"Facing the doctor. It always happens every time I'm about to see one," I explain to him.

His deep dark eyes stare intensely at me. Seemingly, very soon I might forget everything I stated in my diary and end up signing myself up for pain and suffering. His dark eyes that seem to be calling me deep into his soul along with his charming smile will be my downfall.

"Any solid reason why?" he curiously asks a moment later.

"Not really," I respond after clearing my throat. "It's just that most are the times I tend to think of the worst the doctor could tell me about a condition I might be facing. In short, in such situations, I become a pessimist."

He turns so that he's we are directly facing each other. A soft hue covers his face making me shift slightly as I try to find the right composure. I'm not used to having a man show me this much attention. Well, save for my dad. It feels too much especially when it comes from him. His hands cup one of mine as he gives me an assuring gaze.

"Just try and relax. Don't overthink it because you will only grow more nervous. Think of the positive results you'll get after the check-up. Better yet, the stress you'll have taken off your shoulders after this is all over. Okay?" he advises soothing my knuckles with his thumbs. It's relaxing if not distracting and messing up with my brains.

"Okay," I respond giving him a quick smile that he returns with an assuring one.

"Good girl, Mawia," he says and without giving a thought to it, I pinch the back of his hand making him wince and retreat from mine.

"I told you to quit calling me Mawia. I'm Serah," I remind him wearing a smug face.

"It's still your name," he grumbles as he tightens the one that's still holding mine.

"Don't even think about it," I firmly and pointedly tell him.

He guiltily smiles as he lets go of my hand. He was planning on squeezing my tiny one in his large and not to mention a strong one. A silly move but with unlikable results. He takes a step back so that he can easily lean on the elevator wall. The posture he chooses gives him a view of my whole self.

As if on alert, I'm suddenly self-conscious and already noting down the few physical flaws that he would note down and end up overlooking me. That's assuming he even has eyes for me. Oh how I wish he did, but wishes are not horses that beggars will ride. If they were, I would have ridden my way into his heart and claimed my position. Too bad that can only happen in my fantasies and sometimes dreams.

I shyly tug at my fingers when he stares too long. Seemingly, the air in the closed space becomes stuffy and suffocating. Just a few more minutes and we shall be out of here. Asahd should stop staring at me because he is making me feel so stripped. Oh, did I mention that the temperature seems to be rising as well? Probably not. I steal a glance only to have my eyes meet with his. As quickly as they rose to steal a glance, they fall.

The woman beside us is so quiet and still like a fixed ghost. Earlier I had forgotten about her but now her presence seems to have returned. She appears to be lost in thoughts as her eyes are fixed on the elevator buttons. Perhaps reminiscing about something from her past. Hopefully she is enjoying it because in there, there are no limitations. You can reach the extents that reality will never let you reach most of the time. For example, take a look at me. I know in real life, having Ashad would be a freaking jackpot but that is not guaranteed. However, inside my head, he is an easy catch because in there, I can get him however and whenever I want. Ding!

We step out of the elevator and Asahd takes the lead. I'm assuming he's familiar with the place because he's confidently walking like a resident. Borrowing some of his confidence, I follow behind him until we get to the reception desk. He explains our cause to the pretty receptionist who in turn gives us a card and directs us to head over to Dr. David's office. The office is a few meters down a long and quite busy hallway. When we get there, Asahd knocks on the door before seconds later, we're invited in.

His office is huge and expensively equipped with the typical requirements of an office. A black executive chair in which Dr. David is sitting. A white manager office desk with several files on it, a laptop, coffee mug, frames without lenses, and several other things. There is an office cabinet and two black couches for patient use as well. I also take note of the white eye machine on one side of the office. Above it is the typical Snellen eye chart used to test visual acuity. I'm pretty sure I'll be tested with that one in a few.

"Kimuli Asahd, good afternoon," Dr. David greets him.

Of course, they know each other. I mean, why wouldn't he? He got us an appointment here and he somewhat looks familiar with the place.

"Good afternoon, doctor," he responds to him as they both shake hands.

"Good afternoon, miss," he courteously greets me retreating his hand from their handshake.

"Good afternoon," I respond with a small smile as we shake hands.

"Welcome," he says ushering us to the consultation or patients' seats. "Tell me, what brings you here?" he asks Asahd.

"I've brought my friend, Mawia. She's having problems with her eyes. I'll let her explain the rest to you," he says directing his words to me.

I'm really going to have a hard time getting him to stop calling me by my tribal name. Though I might just let him keep doing it because it sounds good.

"Tell me, Mawia," Dr. David prompts. "What seems to be the problem?" he asks as he checks out my eyes trying to come up with observations.

"Uh, I have amblyopia. It hasn't been a problem ever since I was ten until a few months ago. It wasn't much of a bother then but last month it started persisting. I went for treatment and they gave me drops and glasses. Recently, the glasses fell and the lenses broke leaving me no choice but to stay without them. Now my eyes, following the exposure to excess light which also seems to be a problem, are swollen," I explain hoping that he got it. He is an expert in the field so I'll assume he understood everything.

"Are they hurting?" he asks as he notes some things on some papers he grabbed a minute ago.

"No. Yesterday they did though due to the sudden exposure but it was just for a while," I respond and he nods.

"Okay, we will get them examined and then we'll see what we shall do. But before that, you need to fill in some paperwork," he says as he hands me the papers he was filling in along with a blue pen.

I take the pen and start filling in the details. Mostly, the papers demand to know my full identity. In about three minutes I'm done and handing the papers back to him.

"Perfect," he says as he checks out my details.

When he is satisfied, he stands, takes a plastic pointer from the edge of the desk, and goes to the Snellen eye chart.

"Let's first test your visual acuity," he suggests as he points to the Snellen eye chart.

I've been tested with the chart like two times before. That's not counting when I was young. Then, it must have been a couple of times. I read the letters he randomly points as he toys around with the clarity of my vision until he is satisfied.

"Do you remember your visual acuity when you went for the treatment?" he asks. Probably he wants to see if there is any improvement.

"I didn't get to see the papers," I respond truthfully.

"Alright, it's no problem. Let's now proceed to the exam room. Asahd, you want to accompany her?" he asks the man who has been quiet the whole time.

"No, I'll wait for her outside," he decidedly says.

"Okay," Dr. David says before we all walk out.

Asahd goes to sit at the waiting area while I follow Dr. David to the lab. Once there, he carries out all the necessary tests such as testing my eyesight--how far I can see using some machine. He also tests my vision which isn't so bad. Well, nothing is so bad according to his observations.

"You're good to go now," he says twenty minutes later. "We shall monitor your improvement from today onwards. With a few drops and corrective glasses, the condition will improve. You will also be in therapy as the eyes need to be monitored well. In a few months, we should be able to see an improvement. Can we go and check on the glasses now?"

"Sure. Although I have the frame with me. Fortunately, it didn't break. So, perhaps the lenses will do," I mention as he leads the way to another room made of clear glass.

The room is full of contact lenses, frames, fixed glasses et cetera. All have different shapes, sizes, colors, refractive indexes et cetera as well.

"Let me see the frame," he requests.

I fish in my sling bag to get my glasses case. Once I have it, I get the frame and hand it to him.

"Perfect fit for your beautiful face," he comments examining the frame.

"Thank you," I appreciate before he walks to the lenses section.

"Come try these out and see which are fit and comfortable," he says and without wasting time, I head over to him.

We go over the process of choosing the right lenses until we get the suitable ones which he helps fix on my frame. When he is done he gives me my newly fixed glasses. Once I've worn them, my eyes feel as if they've received a treat.

"Perfect," Dr. David comments with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Thank you," I appreciate with a satisfied smile as well.

"Let's go sort out some things and then you'll be good to go," he says and we walk out of the lab.

As we walk back, I take note of Asahd who is glued to his phone. Silently, I head over to him but he gets to notice me before ambushing him.

"Perfect fit," he comments as he checks out my glasses.

"Thanks to you," I point out feeling content with happiness.

"Don't mention it," he flips me off with a smile before his eyes shift back to his phone for a second. "I'm making the payment," he tells me

"Okay," I mumble as I take a seat next to him.

"Done," he says as he looks up at me. "So, what did the doctor say about your eyes?"

"It's nothing serious. In a few months, I should expect some improvement as long as I use the eye drops, do some therapy, and keep the glasses on," I respond.

"You're not going to go blind though, right?" he teasingly asks. He sure is enjoying teasing me around.

"No, I am not," I growl and he smiles a little.

"Good to know that. Let's head out. We have rehearsals awaiting us later in the evening."

"Sure. But how much do I owe you?" I ask in a low serious tone.

He may have dismissed the topic earlier and forgotten about it but I didn't. I can't forget until the necessary is done.

"Nothing," he states with a shake of his head.

"Seriously, Asahd, I need to know how much I owe you," I firmly plead with him. There is no way I'm letting him get away with this.

"Fine, with the insurance in your favor, you owe me six thousand," he says.

"No, Asahd. You are lying," I accuse refusing to believe that everything just cost me six thousand. I'm very sure it has to be more than that. This is Davi Dana Optics.

"Shall we go back to the office and ask?" he asks in a serious tone.

"Your bluffing," I hesitantly say.

"Come on," he prompts as he stands, ready to take me back to the office for confirmation.

"Okay fine. Six thousand it is. Just give me a few days or--" he is already talking even before I can finish.

"Weeks?" he skeptically asks.

Damn, that hurts. It has just made me feel inferior due to my low economic status compared to his. Though it shouldn't hurt much because it is nothing but reality. Maybe it hurts because I feel inadequate where he is concerned. I hate my betraying heart right now.

"Uh-um, yeah," I silently say with a nod.

"Ah, heck, Serah," he huffs rubbing the palm of his hand on his face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't--," I interrupt him before he is done with his apology

"Don't apologize, Asahd. There is nothing to apologize for because it is true. I will need maybe a week or two utmost," I counter. He shakes his head in disapproval and frustration which confuses me.

"You know what?" he asks and I shake my head wearing a confused frown. "Don't pay me back. I've been a jerk to you so I deserve to pay you for the damage. Please, don't argue."

"So you want us to call it even?" I ask staring up at him.

"Yeap," he nods.

"Not happening," I refuse with a firm shake of my head.

"Come on, Serah," he pleads.

"I'm not giving in. Don't try. It will be in vain. I'm still paying you back," I state firmly as I stand from the seat and head towards the elevator.

He doesn't waste time following me. I'm not sure when my life changed so much that I now even have arguments with celebrities in huge medical institutions' buildings.

"Why does it feel like now you are trying to prove to me that you can pay it?" he asks.

He has just hit the nail on the head. Deep down, I want to let him know that I can afford it. It's just that the timing will vary. He can easily afford it while I can't as it will take me some time.

"Because that's what I want. To let you know that I can pay it," I blatantly state feeling defensive.

"You don't have to prove that to me, Serah," he states as we enter the elevator. Thank God there is no one going down at the moment. Otherwise, they would hate their ride down.

"If it makes me feel good, then yes," I fire back.

His eyes shut as he takes in a deep breath. Damn, I have crossed the line now. Wow, Serah, wow. There is your disorder showing up. You're defending yourself and trying to prove yourself at the same time. How exhausting. I hate it when I feel inferior or inadequate because later I always want to prove myself. It doesn't matter the cost as long as I get to do it. It makes me feel much better about myself.

"If it will make you feel better with yourself then it's okay," he says in a calm voice.

"Thank you. Also, I am sorry for being so stubborn," I sincerely apologize.

"I was stubborn too. So technically we were stubborn to each other," he acknowledges making me smile.

Soon we are stepping out of the elevator and walking through the lobby that is busier than before. It's lunch hour so probably it's the stuff going about their lunch business.

"Are you going home or to school?" he asks me as we walk through the parking lot towards his intimidating Porsche.

"It's already two. I will go to school and spend some time with Sue before rehearsals start," I respond.

"I would have loved to drop you off but I have to go meet someone before four," he tells me.

For a moment I feel insecure from the thoughts of the person he is going to meet. Then I recall that Gabriel requested a meeting after he was done taking care of his business which is me.

"It's okay. I will take a bus," I assure him.

"Are you sure it's okay?" He asks making me shoot him a glare which he surrenders to. "Okay, then. I'll drop you at the bus stop."

"Uh, should I give you your cap right now?" I ask. "You said to return it after my glasses got fixed." He unlocks the car and we both enter.

"Do you want to return it?" he asks as he starts it. He's cleverly estimating me, I see.

"It is not mine so I have to return it to its owner," I smart making him smile guiltily. He was estimating me.

"Clever way of evading my question, Mawia," he points out as he drives out of the parking lot.

"It was a trap," I retort.

"You can keep it," he tells me.

"Oh?" I ask feeling excited.

The cap will probably fade from washing because I plan on wearing it often. It's officially one of my favorite things.

"Yes," he nods.

At this hour, the lunch hour traffic might still be on but not as heavy as at one when everybody is rushing with their car to get themselves lunch.

"Okay, thanks," I appreciate.

For the rest of the short drive, we drive in silence. Everyone seems to be lost in their thoughts until we get to the bus stop.

"Thank you for everything. I guess I'll see you around," I say as I unbuckle my seat belt.

"I'll see you around," he says before I step out of the car and close the door behind me.

I step up on the curb and he drives off. I had hoped that he would ask for my number but he didn't. It hurts despite it being something so small. Stupid hope. If I hadn't hoped then it wouldn't be hurting. I have to stop letting this hope crawl within me. I don't want it to lead me into the dark hole I was in not so long ago. Unless I'm a masochist to keep welcoming pain in my life.

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