While I'm making new pancakes with what's left of the batter Myles' eyes never leave my movements.

"What?" I lift my gaze to him. "Why are you staring like that?"

"I am trying to take notes here."

"Notes?", I chuckle. "You want me to teach you?"

"Mmm", he mumbles, thinking, "if you can." A wide smile forms on his lips, which makes me smile, too, but soon it vanishes.

"But Stella isn't a fan of them", I point to the pan where the oil is chirping, "she said it herself. "

"Yeah, but she has to eat something. I cannot only feed her with unhealthy meals."

"And you consider pancakes a healthy meal?", I giggle while glancing at the pancake I'm flipping.

"Wow, how did you do that?", he gasps and his unknowledge makes me laugh, but I quickly stop scared that it is going to wake up Stella. I lean to check if her body is still in the same position and it is, curled while her left hand is next to her head, without her usual golden fingers but with chopped black nail polish.

"It's easy", I turn back to Myles. "C'mon. Stand there", I instruct and his tall frame hovers over my small one.

"So, first you put oil, like this... And then you pour the batter with a kitchen spoon, slowly", I warn him and his eyes flicker to mine just for a brief moment and then he moves them back to the pan, his lips parted, face completely focused. "But, since you only have a basic spoon, then with it... And now you wait."

"Wait for how long?"

"I don't know, Myles", I shrug, not looking at him, "until you see that it's baked and that it's ready to be flipped on the other side."

"Oh, okay. So, can we flip it now?" He gestures to the pancake and I smile.

"We can flip it now, yeah. Want to have that honor?"

"B-but, what if I do not succeed?"

"You kill yourself ", I deadpan, rolling my eyes. His widen, too. "Nothing, Myles, you do nothing. Come on, try."

I turn the pan to him and he takes it with his shaky hands and tries to flip it but the pancake falls on the floor.

"Oh, no, no!", he cries and I slap my forehead with my palm, shaking my head.

"No, what am I going to do now?" He kneels to take the half-baked pancake from the floor and my eyes catch Stella's body rolling on the other side.

I kneel as well, whispering a little harsh:

"First of all, you be quiet. We are going to wake her up. Second of all, you continue. Don't let one unbaked pancake discourage you. Try again", I tell him once I put another pancake to bake.

"You sure? We are getting out of batter..."

"I said try it."

"O-okay." He bites his lip and frowns slightly, concentrating as if those pancakes were some kind of mathematical formula that has to be solved. I cover my mouth to prevent myself from laughing and disturb the ginger boy with full concentration. He flips the pancake and this time it falls back in the pan, though one side of it doesn't flip properly back, but it is still better than the last time and amazing for a beginner.

He gasps from surprise and I let myself chuckle now and how precious and pure his reaction is. "Did you see it?", he asks me, still shocked, glancing at me shortly before looking back at his masterpiece.

"I did!"

"I did it!" He squeezes his fist and a big smile spreads across his freckles.

"You did it." I take the spoon and straighten the part of the pancake that didn't fall properly and when I'm sure it's baked I put it on the plate to join others.

"Okay, you have one more." I pout the rest of the batter in the pan and to shorten the story he successfully slipped this one, too, and his face was so happy resembling a five-year-old child and it was so precious that I cannot describe it to you.

Fuck! I even speak like him now. Who would say that this guy has been crying on my chest mere half an hour ago?

"Do you have something to fill it with?", I ask him and he opens the paper bag to find something that popped into his mind. He takes the jar of the jam and waves it through the air.

"I only have a jam. I did not have money for Nutella. Will that work?"

"Yeah, it will."

I start spreading jam on the pancakes and when I felt his hand brushing my elbow. I bounce back startled and scared, but then I realize that he just wanted to reach for the pancakes and help me with filling them.

"Sorry. I did not mean to..."

"It's okay. I still, I'm still... recovering."

"I know, Chloe. I am so sorry. I did not know what I was thinking."

"You are always thinking, Myles. Stop it already", I slightly scold him and brush my hair from my forehead.

"I am trying", he complains, "but it is so hard."

"I know. But sometimes the more spontaneous the better."

I know Myles would never ever hurt me, but the moment I felt the touch on me I couldn't help it. I couldn't think that it belonged to the guy who was crying on my chest because he was worried for the girl he loves so much and she cannot see that his love is the right one. She cannot realize that she should be with him instead of Michael who obviously doesn't care for her nor one bit.

"Myles?"

"Mhm?" He glances at me while carefully spreading the jam on the pancake, licking his lips, being deeply concentrated.

"Don't put that much jam. You have to spare it."

"Oh, okay. Sorry." He rolls the pancake and I roll my eyes at how he apologizes for everything. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?" He looks at me once he puts the pancake on the plate where the others are resting.

"No."

His eyes pierce through me and even though I'm not looking at him I can feel his gaze on my skin. "I wanted to ask you who you had been talking about when you... Before you'd started crying", I add, while gazing at him briefly before focusing my eyes on the plate and continuing spreading the jam on the pancake mechanically.

"I lost I girl who I loved", he says, not looking at me, leaning his long arms on the counter and biting his thin lower lip, looking at the floor.

"Did she... Did she die?" He nods and I stop what I was doing, but he continues, still very carefully as if he can screw pancakes now when they are finally baked. I want to tell him that he can't and that he shouldn't pay that much attention to it, but drop it.

"It was hard to... to wake up every morning knowing that I would never see her face. It still does sometimes."

My heart aches for him and I could never imagine that this had happened to him. Now I regret that I wasn't being friends with this boy earlier. No, I was always using him since he was usually Stella's ride to school and back home, so he would always pick me up as well, but I would never start any conversation with him. Now when I remember how things once were when we all had masks on our faces, preventing others to see our wounds and deepest secrets, covering the persons we were, I realize how much everything changed from then.

It feels like years passed and indeed they did. I know Stella for more than a year, almost two, and the twins since the beginning of high school, yet I never spoke to them before I started hanging out with Maya. In freshman year I was a regular nerd, trying to escape reality while my nose was buried in books, full of letters and formulas, dates, and philosophical quotes. But then I gave up on that and tried to find myself in the company of bitches and son of a bitches, when actually I was just hiding myself, burying it inside, somewhere where it couldn't reach me and acting like I was okay while I was doing everything that Maya was, too, and well other girls, but as you are already aware, Maya was my guide.
And the year after we were Stella's guides.

It's funny how Maya had to lecture two girls who were basic teenagers, who were embarrassed to wear a shirt with a cleavage yet a short skirt and fishnet stockings.

She was annoying, not acting, nor one second while Stella and I had to put that mask on each morning when we would leave the house hoping that someday it would grow together with our faces. But it didn't. Yet, it slipped the day we met each other's real selves. After a year we finally meet for the first time because the time when we actually met was the one when we both had masks, covering what we have been through, scared that someone would hurt us the second they see the pain in our eyes because most people feed on pain of others.

Now, look at how much has changed since the day we've met. I realized how bad Myles' brother was, I realized that Stella and I had more in common than we both thought, I found out that Myles was the most precious boy in this world and that he deserved way more than life has offered him so far. And even though I've never thought that I would end up in a kitchen with him in God's sake forgotten wooden cabin in the industrial zone at the end of the city, baking pancakes, here I am.

"Chloe." He waves his hand in front of my face and I startle and drop the spoon from my hand.

It falls on the floor and clicks and I widen my eyes and quickly drift my eyes to the room where Stella is supposed to be asleep. I watch as her body moves up and down while she breaths. Her hair again fell on her face and covered while strands of its are in her parted lips.

"She's still asleep", I mumble to myself, sighing in relief.

"Yeah, she is really tired."

I look back at Myles, who picked up the spoon from the floor. "Did she sleep last night?"

"Barely. We were talking until late." I just nod and continue what I had been doing before I dozed off in the world that was my daily one before I realized the things that were basically in front of my eyes. "I'm sorry for what happened to you."

"It is okay. I am sorry that I started sobbing like a child there", he chuckles nervously, averting his eyes. "It is just that when you started talking about Stella and her love for Michael... I remembered Emily and it hit me... Do you know that Stella resembles her?" I look up at him curiously.

"I mean resembled before she dyed her hair. They have the same blonde hair. Yeah, like yours, though hers was a little bit brighter and always in waves." He smiles and I force a smile as well, feeling my heart tightening in my chest for this boy. The kindest I've ever met. And I'm sad that more boys like him don't exist because I'm in desperate need of a person like Myles. The one who would care for me the way Myles cares. The one who covers my body the way he covered Stella. The one who worries if I eat healthily. The one who tries to cook even though he doesn't know how to, just so I can eat.

But there are no two persons like Myles. Just one and I should be grateful for that one.

There is only one and he is taken. Maybe not yet, but she is going to realize sooner or later that he's been reserved for her this whole time.

Myles is Stella's and that is how it is. How it should be.

And I would never touch him the wrong way, but I can still mourn that I do not have this kind of guy next to me as Stella does. The one that will escape for me and hide if I ask him, too. Even though they still haven't talked to me about the reason I can still can what it could be. And I can say that his name starts with S and that I have spit in his face. And I would do it all again.

Why am I always jealous of the men around her? I was jealous of Michael, too, yet see what he has done. Maya was jealous of Christopher, yet see how he hurt Stella. I wonder will Myles turn into a bad villain like every man in the life of my best friend appeared to be. For her sake, I hope he won't.

"Okay, we can eat now!", he announces and puts the plate on the table. He pulls the chair for me and waits for me to sit on it.

"Oh, no", I smile, shaking my head, " I won't eat."

"But why?", he asks confused and knits his ginger brows.

"I don't want to take what's yours and Stella's. I can eat at mine. This is for you and you should be sparing it. Though I will come tomorrow and bring her some clothes and groceries, as well. Do you need clothes?", I ask him, and he parts his lips, confused, not expecting anyone to ask him does he need anything. So down to Earth, so humble.

"I'm sure I can manage to find something to suit you, too."

His gaze falls in his black shirt and grey washed-out jeans and he opens his mouth but closes it again.

"Um, no, no. I do not need anything. Just bring Stella something. Maybe some pajamas and toothbrush", he reminds me.

"Yeah, I already made that note, don't you worry."

"Okay. Well, at least you can try one or two, you were so excited for them. Come on, we will not die if you take two pancakes." He beams and his smile is contagious, making me smile, too, and roll my eyes as I sit at the table.

"We did a good job", he moans while he shoves the whole pancake in his mouth.

He must be starving, and I don't want to know when was the last time he ate something. I also, know that he is going to leave this for Stella and continue starving. He is so skinny and so is my best friend.

But now Stella has to eat for two. I can't help but wonder would she keep a kid if she knew. I don't want to imagine how she would react. For now, I agreed with Myles that I won't tell her, but soon she is going to find out on her own. And then the decision is completely on her. I'm sure that nor Myles will force her on anything based on what I've seen from him so far. This afternoon when we were baking pancakes.

"We did", I smile, while my heart aches for both of them because they deserve so much more than this pain the life keeps providing them with.

They deserve happiness and I don't know why this motherfucking destiny just doesn't give it to them already and how long will it wait to let them be happy and live without the constant fear of the return of those people who abuse them.

"Myles?", I ask him on the doorstep.

"Tell me, Chloe?" His eyes are quick to lock with mine.

"Do you... Do you need um, a hug?" I blink rapidly, scared to look at him, but I know he needs one, compared to what I've seen and how sad he has been while talking about the girl he had lost.

"I, um.." He turns to Stella's room and I don't know is he scared for her to see us together or what. "If you... I don't want to trigger y..."

Late.

I already wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled my head in his chest. His shirt smells of butter and pancakes and I inhale it, welcoming the not so mesmerizing, but to me sweet scent.

Myles hesitates for a moment, but soon he wraps his long arms around me, too, gently, so gently, that I wish he had hugged me tighter, but this is good, as well, I console myself. His palms are brushing my shoulders, my bare arms, and I don't even get goosebumps nor separate from him this time. I let him hug me, and I even wish he squeezed me tighter.

"Shh, Stella is going to be. I promise you, Chloe. Shh."

It's his words that made me realize I was crying. I pull away from him, and he smiles at me and wipes my cheeks with his thumbs, and I close my eyes at his touch.

Touch. Touch of a man. I haven't touched it since...

Since him.

And I'm letting Myles wipe my tears.

This is too much. I shouldn't be doing this.

I don't like him. But I like the way he consoles and takes care of me. But I guess he takes care of everyone, but himself.

I separated from him, wiped my nose, and before I opened the wooden door to get out, slightly embarrassed he stops me, gently are barely touching my hand, scared that I would flinch it, but this time I don't. His touch is so warm, so soft, there's nothing rough in it how it was in my father.

From now on I know that don't need to protect myself from Myles because he is an angel and why would someone protect themselves from an angel?

"Wait..." I look at him, already knowing what he wants to ask me. "How..." He glances at the room where Stella is resting scared that she may hear him. "How do you know that I..."

"Myles." I put my hand on his big muscular shoulder.

Why are all these boys I have met with today muscular and well-built?

"I'm not blind. I can see the way love radiates from your eyes every time you look at her. I just hope someday she will be able to have the same feeling in her eyes for you because you are the one she deserves and not Michael. "

With that, I press my hands on the door and leave the ginger boys with freckles in a shape of an angel whose shirt smells of pancakes, who waited for me to see that I got into a taxi when I called it and he waved at me until he lost sight of the yellow car that is going to take me back home to... my mom.