f o u r t e e n || Punched Drivers and Maddening Utterances

|2nd February 2019|

Aiming at the driver, I flung my boot into the air from where I stood near the passenger's door, desperately wanting the wedge heel of my footwear to hit him in either of his eyes and cause major damage. "No way you're getting away without having that hideous face of yours pummeled to a pulp, you bastard!"

He ducked near the backside of the cab, evidently scared by the extent to which I could go to, to teach him a lesson of how a woman is not supposed to be treated like an item that can be misused according to a man's needs when alone, and I groaned in irritation. I had missed him. Oh, how much I hate the game of hide-and-seek, ugh!

Where this avatar of mine had gone to, when I had been cornered by those two living, walking, talking, stinking culverts two days ago, I have no clue. Perhaps it was the fact that I had Zephrine with me then, or the fact that it had been late at night and there was nobody around to help us that had scared me back then.

Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that I am standing in Elliot's humungous garden right now and that I can call him to my aid when things start to spiral out of my control had resulted in my confidence levels seeing such drastic spikes.

Whatever the reason is, though, I am going to make sure this guy learns the lesson of his life today.

I placed my bare right foot on the hood of the cab, and then my left one which was still clad in the boot and climbed on top of the cab. I bent down in an awkward position and took off my right boot because that was the only thing I had on which I could use to damage his physiognomy.

Stupid, stupid human being. Both, his life and his face would've existed in so much of harmony had he not opened his mouth and offered me such an offensive suggestion.

It was only after I had removed my boot and was standing back upright did I realize what a grave mistake I had done by bending down. I lost balance, and I slipped on my rear side. In that moment of trepidation, I did the one thing that obviously wouldn't help me get back on my feet; I screamed.

My eyes squeezed shut as I fell backward, hoping against hope that some angel would come and catch me before it got too late and I ended up getting broken bones.

However, something about this fall seemed off. It seemed to be endless, and-

Then I fell. Not on the ground, though. Rather, into something that had the capability of moving. Okay, what have I gotten myself into?

I didn't open my eyes. What if I had fallen into a garden trolley that had earthworms and all other creatures that would- no, no, calm down, will you, Celeste? You can take a bath if that's what has happened. It's not like Elliot's house doesn't have a bathroom, anyway.

Then another upsetting thought occurred to me. Taking a bath in Elliot's house means seeing him in this dirty state, which in turn means him being disgusted by me and then never wanting to-

"You can open your eyes, Celeste. You stopped falling ten seconds ago."

Well well well, look at this driver's guts, will you? He has somehow (God knows how!) found out my name and has taken my fall as an opportunity to touch me. Ew, how desperate can you get, dude?

With the help of the boot in my hand, and my eyes still closed because ahem, I'm a good person who doesn't like causing harm to anybody with my eyes open, I punched his shoulder, making sure that the wedge heel portion of it hit him squarely.

He let out a sharp cry of pain, and I was about to open my eyes and enjoy the look on his face when he dropped me on the hard ground. I groaned, hating how despite him being the wrong one, I was the one suffering. I opened my eyes to shot him daggers, and when I recognized the person in front of me, I completely froze.

Because who I had thought was the driver, was actually Elliot.

"Shit, shit, shit, Elliot..." I quickly stood up, shivering when my bare feet came into contact with the cold gravel, and when I saw him caressing his now red shoulder, I flinched away in horror. Blood was already starting to clot where I had mistakenly smashed my footwear into his flesh. "I'm so sorry Elliot, I had no clue it was you. I..." my face contorted in the most apologetic look I could give, and he shook his head at me, squirming because I had really hit him hard.

"Why do you always hit me, Celeste?" he whined, affliction evident in his voice.

"I'm so sorry, Elliot. I really thought it was-" I turned around to look at the person because of whom all of this had happened. If only that bawdy-beyond-imagination excuse of a driver hadn't asked me for seven extra dollars just for dropping me inside Elliot's house, and not outside the gate, and if only he hadn't suggested that we go by the cheap method that he himself had devised so I wouldn't have to pay him those many extra dollars, none of this would've happened.

"-it's him, Elliot!" I said, pointing at the guy who slowly revealed himself from behind the vehicle. "It's because of that coward that you are hurt. I want you to punch him. And I want you to do it now." I huffed, pouting like a five-year-old.

Elliot looked at me like I had grown two horns. "What's wrong with you, Celeste? How can I punch him just like that?" he cried in surprise.

I cast Elliot an are-you-crazy look. "Eh, hello, mister!" I waved my hand in front of his eyes to drag his attention from his shoulder to the matter at hand. With my left hand on my hip, I continued, "Nobody is asking you to punch him just like that. Just for dropping me inside the gate, he asked me to pay him seven dollars on top of the whole fare."

Elliot passed me a look of utter disbelief. "Celeste, are you kidding me? All this commotion for just seven dollars?"

This boy and his theories, goodness. Can't believe he thinks I did all of this because I was being stingy in money matters.

I closed my eyes for a moment, grinding my jaws against each other. Giving in to my fury, I did what I thought would be appropriate at that instant. I leaned forward and placed my index finger over his lips to make sure he wouldn't speak up before I was done explaining myself. His eyes instantly flit down to my hand, and then to the small distance separating us, and eventually settled back on my eyes, noticeably tottering in a sense of disquietude. My hand shivered a little because only then did I realize the same, and I bit my lip, my gaze suddenly unstable as it lowered to his own pink lips.

"Shut up and listen to me, Elliot," I snapped, immediately dropping my fingers.

He remained silent and so I continued. "It isn't because he asked me for seven dollars that I punched him. It's because he said I could instead give him a kiss and my number and not have to pay a penny for the whole ride!"

Elliot's lips parted as he took in the revelation. A look of disbelief crossed his features, but I guess that emotion was only temporary. What he looked next, is furious. And boy did he look like he could kill the driver right away.

See, he understands you so well! my subconscious told me.

A movement in my surrounding caught my eyes and I turned to see the driver guy standing beside me, looking so sincere, I had to resist the urge to reach out and break his neck. Seriously, it's because of men like him that women fear stepping out of their houses alone. "Bro, this girl is lying! I swear I didn't say anything like that! She was the one who asked for my number and when I refused to give it to her because I am very loyal to my girlfriend, she started throwing everything she could lay her hands on at me!"

My mouth hung open in shock. "Such a bloody liar! Why would I ask for your number?" I turned to Elliot, and placing my hand on his arm, began proving my innocence. "Elliot, this bastard's lying. I came here to meet you; to reconcile with you. Why would I ask for-"

"Say sorry." came out Elliot's order, firm and clear.

For a moment, I thought Elliot was asking me to apologize to the bastard and that speculation alone left me on the verge of punching him, but when I saw him lock eyes with the driver, I let out a sigh of relief.

The driver, though, seemed shocked by what Elliot had told him to do. He shook his head, repeating his nonsensical rant. "But I haven't done anything wrong!"

"I said, say sorry."

"Who the heck are you to force me into doing something I don't want to?"

Elliot lost his cool. I could see it from the way his fists balled up and he sucked his cheeks in and released them, as if he were trying to breathe his anger out. "Didn't recognize me?" Elliot asked him. I was about to laugh out loud at Elliot's illusion that he had become famous just because he was a multimillionaire's son when he took his dialogue in a totally different direction. "I'm your bad luck, bro." he declared, using the same bro-tone that the driver had used on him.

Then, he caught the driver by his collar and harshly walked him backward until his (the driver's) back hit the driver's door.

The driver groaned as pain traveled the length of his body, but Elliot paid no heed to his complaints. "Say sorry or suffer all the while I break every single bone in your body and then drag you by your legs to the hospital." he gritted out, his tone leaving no space for argument.

My breath got caught in my throat as I witnessed this possessive side of Elliot after all these years. I had seen it before, but that was way back in high school when we weren't even together and a guy friend had been hitting on me despite me already telling him how I wasn't interested in him, and Elliot had intervened and taught him a nice lesson.

I crossed my arms over my chest, thoroughly enjoying watching Elliot fight for me. I walked closer to the scene with a giddy smile on my face. "You better listen to him. He tends to do what he says." I shrugged, pursing my lips as the guy groaned in agony.

Ohh, I love this so much!

The driver fellow glared at me with so much hatred in his eyes, I was glad I had Elliot by my side. Then, he grunted out the golden word in the most un-golden manner. It's true what they say; assholes commit mistakes all their life yet even by the time they're on their death bed have they not learned how to apologize. "Sorry."

"Huh? Is that how you say sorry?" enquired Elliot, tugging harder at his collar.

I literally had to bite my tongue to keep myself from screaming in glee. The feeling of having someone finally take a stand for you, after you do the same for everybody around you is so, so pleasant and fuzzy.

I heard him grit his teeth. "I'm sorry."

"And will you repeat it again?" pushed Elliot. I was starting to have this feeling that Elliot was getting a kick out of torturing the third person.

Another gritting sound reverberated from him. "No."

Elliot stared at him for a moment, wondering if there was anything left that he could do to discipline the person in front of him, but when he seemed to find none, he released his collar, allowing his hands to fall by his sides.

"Off you go!" he declared, motioning with his hands towards the main gates, a dire scowl on his face. "And remember, if I see you near my girl or my house anytime after today, I'll send your family your dead remains."

My girl... Elliot just called me his girl. Why does this feel like such a huge achievement?

For the first time since I saw him, the driver actually looked afraid. He gulped, hastily opening the door to his automobile and getting in. He turned the engine on and drove away.

Elliot eyed the cab as it left his family's territory through the gates, and then turned to me. He stared at me for a moment too long, and I rather boldly held his gaze. I noticed how his beautiful blue eyes looked tired; like he was on the verge of giving up in every aspect and just go for a dive in the Pacific Ocean, and bouts of guilt overcame me because I knew it was because of me and my overreacting self that this was happening to him. To add to my misery, my eyes flit to the blue spot on his cheek where I had punched him yesterday, but Elliot seemed to be thinking of other things.

And in that moment, I allowed myself to recognize in his eyes what I had stopped myself from seeing until today: a happily every after.

His gaze grew intense, and I almost hunched away with shyness recalling how he had caught me before I could fall with disgrace, and how he had hit the driver because he had misbehaved with me. He cleared his throat a moment later, temporarily erasing such romantic thoughts from my mind. "So you're here to reconcile."

It wasn't a question, it was a declaration.

"No!" I said, rapidly shaking my head at him. I don't do things the straight way, you see, and that's my biggest problem. And even now, instead of being straightforward and giving him the yes that he would've liked to hear, my vocals seemed to have their own plans.

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and allowing me to decide whether or not I was here to reconcile. "I-I mean, yes." I shook my head once again. Stupid, stupid vocals! Not only will they go down the tunnel of uncertainty themselves, but they will drag me along with them to suffer. Exasperated, I threw my hands in the air, letting my gestures speak for me this time. "I mean, I don't know. I guess I'm here to try and understand."

Elliot's eyes on me were steady, and despite my efforts to not look away when the intensity in his said features grew to a point where it became unbearable, I looked away.

He sighed, shaking his head. Then he bent down and collected my boots from where I had thrown one of it at the driver and hit Elliot with the other. "Come on in. It's getting cold."

I merely nodded in agreement, falling into step beside him. I reached out and pulled my boots from his hands because I've never liked the idea of somebody- Elliot, especially, holding something that I'd wear to cover my feet. He didn't say anything, simply slipped them into my hands like I had wanted him to.

As we walked side-by-side, I deliberately slowed down, wanting to spend time talking with him about random things; like we used to, back when we were teens. "Did you talk to Olwyn?"

He looked at me for a moment before looking back at the gravel beneath his sneakers, shaking his head. "Nah,"

I nodded. So he had no clue of the surprise visit that Olwyn had paid to my apartment earlier today; explains his shock at seeing me here. Oh, and also his silent curiosity as to what exactly I was doing here, despite me telling him that I was here to understand.

"Are your parents at home?"

He shook his head. "They've gone to the hospital."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Had to get dad's monthly checkup done," he replied. He didn't elaborate, so I didn't push. There are a million other things I can talk to him about anyway.

His arm brushed against mine as we walked, and I gulped at the contact. In order to ease the tension inside my head, I spoke up again. "Don't you go to work?"

He turned to me at this, a grin on his face. "I can't work from across another continent, you know?"

"What do you mean? Isn't your family's printing press here in San Francisco?"

"Who said I work at the press?"

I gave him a duh look. "Your father owns the company, Elliot. It's kind of obvious that you'd work there, and then become the CEO, and eventually take over the whole company and-"

Elliot's head fell back as he laughed at my theory. I turned to face him, wondering what about what I said was so funny. Somehow, I feel like I'm his source of amusement for today. "Stop with the television script, Celeste," he said, amused. "I don't have any interest in taking care of machines that print newspapers and magazines."

Placing my hand over my chin, I faked a gasp. "So you don't work at all?"

"I'm offended that you'd think of me as that jobless," he said with a grin, nowhere looking like he was offended. When he caught me giving him a questioning look, he enlightened me with what he actually does for a living. "I design planes."

My eyes widened at the revelation, and I actually gasped this time. "An aeronautical engineer, you mean?"

Elliot's smile was distant, as if he was thinking about the various airbuses he'd designed to date. "Yeah," he said, nodding to himself.

My mind backpedaled to when we had just finished giving the final exams of high school. Because the founder of my school had passed away the day right before prom night or whatever shit dance function it is that high-school students attend, the social event had been postponed to after the exams. I didn't want to attend it because I was pregnant with Zephrine, so I told Elliot that I wanted to stay home and bake brownies. Elliot had wanted to do the same, but there was a clash of dates; on the same day as prom night (I have studied at a school that has an age-old weird habit of shifting dates up to and down, as it liked), was Elliot's graduation. He had complained a lot about not wanting to attend it because and I quote 'formal gatherings bored him' but I'd somehow convinced him into going, saying I'd go with him because he was his school's valedictorian.

It was when we were returning and I had asked him about his future plans did he reveal to me how he has always wanted to make something that could fly.

I smiled at the memory, feeling so proud that he had achieved his dreams and not taken over the company like most children would prefer to be spoon-fed with their parents' hard work.

"You don't look like one, though." I teased, nudging his arm with my elbow.

He gave me an amused grin. "Yeah? And is that because I'm tall and handsome and look more like a model than an aeronautical engineer?"

Obviously, I replied internally.

I slapped his arm, laughing. "Shut up, you self-absorbed human!" I exclaimed in good spirits.

He grinned in response, and a comfortable silence ensued as we walked up the long flight of stairs that stopped in front of the large doors. If I had thought that the Nithercotts had hired world-class architects to design their beach house, then the person who had decided upon the looks and styles of this very house had to be someone from out of this planet.

Elliot pushed the doors open and a sudden gush of warmth greeted us. We entered what I can only classify as the most beautiful house I have ever seen. In fact, 'most beautiful' is a very, very basic adjective for the house; I don't think there is a word in the English language that can do justice in describing this dwelling the same way that it appeals to the eye.

I literally had to bite my lips to keep myself from gushing at the, well, everything inside the house.

Elliot cleared his throat, and I shifted my eyes to him from where they were busy admiring the pillar wall divided into three parts; in the first and the third part were books of various genres and sizes whereas in between the bookshelves, was a large aquarium. It was so beautiful.

"We will reach my room only the day after tomorrow if you keep stopping after every two steps, Celeste," he said, scratching the back of his neck in uncertainty.

My cheeks heated in embarrassment. I lowered my eyes to the marble mosaic tiles beneath my feet. I'm so glad I am standing barefoot right now because this place is so clean, it's a little hard to not feel guilty about not wearing something equally spotless in here. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "But Elliot, this place is so beautiful," I confessed, slowly looking back at him.

His eyes locked onto mine for the hundredth time today. There was a different type of intensity swimming in them as they told me so many things all at once. What stood out the most, was one particular look that I couldn't help but translate as follows: We can share this beautiful house aside from so many other things, Celeste. All you have to do is say yes.

I gulped. To be honest, the idea of sharing a home with Elliot isn't new. We have shared a home in the past. And if things turn out the way we have planned, then we will share one in the near future, too. However, what scares me now is the fact that if, God forbid, something bad happens and either of us backs away from the idea, then unlike how it is happening now, neither of us will want to take the chance of getting our heart untethered to bits once again. In simpler words, if we divert our paths from each other now, then there's no way these paths will converge ever again.

This is our only and our last chance to set things right.

"We should go to my room," announced Elliot. He turned around and started walking up another flight of stairs and I quickly jogged up to him, not wanting to get lost in this maze-like bungalow.

There suddenly seemed something off about him, as if he had retreated to his cocoon. It felt as though he had heard my previous thoughts about this not working out and had gotten upset over how pessimistic I was being regarding the matter.

Be positive, Celeste. Don't keep Option 2.0 here, because there is never an Option 2.0 in the matters of the hearts. Be firm and have faith in your love, and he will be yours. Staying eight years away from each other didn't reduce your love for each other, then how can you allow a small misunderstanding to have so much of an effect on your love? my subconscious made me understand.

And it was right in every sense. I have to be positive, and I have to have faith in my love.

And I have to fight for what is mine.

Busy in my own train of thoughts, I had completely forgotten that we had already reached Elliot's chamber. He stood beside me, leaning onto the doorframe, his arms and feet crossed over each other and his head turned towards me as he assessed my reaction upon seeing his room.

The room, as expected, was huge with its walls painted different shades of blue. The main lights were off, leaving only the warm haze from the LED lights fitted behind the false ceiling to lighten up the place. Furniture like bed, couches, study table, TV, and several other things that you'd see in a luxurious bedroom filled my vision.

Hmm, okay. Not bad.

My heels slipped from between my fingers and landed with a thud on the floor beside me because a large frame above his bed was the first and the only thing that actually caught my attention.

And that was because it was no ordinary frame.

It was a frame in which Elliot was standing in the middle and his adoptive parents on his right. Behind him, with his hand around Elliot's shoulder was a tall man in his fifties. Although he looked eerily familiar, I didn't know who he was. Perhaps I had seen him somewhere in the city, or perhaps he had been present at Elliot's and Olwyn's fake engagement party; I wasn't sure about either. What I do know, though, is that when my eyes shifted to the photoshopped pictures of Zephrine, my mother, and I on the left side of the frame, I suddenly couldn't breathe.

As if that wasn't enough, there was something written below the picture. The handwriting was small, so I couldn't really comprehend the words from where I stood.

I turned back to Elliot who was still looking at me, the ghost of a smile on his lips. My heart raced wildly inside my chest. "Do you mind if I look?" I asked him urgently. I don't understand why I even bothered to ask; it's not like I won't look if he refuses to let me, anyway.

"You own this place just as much as your pictures do, Cel. Do whatever you want."

I jogged towards his bed and climbed it, not caring whether or not my feet were clean enough. I would wash the sheets later on if Elliot had so much to complain about my actions. I moved towards the frame to read whatever was written, and when I saw what was written in Elliot's slanting handwriting, I swear to God, it felt as if I was having an asthma attack.

The Nithercott family
(in the making)

I stumbled back, my hands starting to shiver by my sides as I struggled to swallow the clot in my throat. The various emotions that I felt then resulted in my eyes turning watery. I somehow sucked in a breathe, although the action did pretty much nothing to aid my lungs in the process of respiration. I turned towards the ceiling, blinking to evaporate the tears from my eyes before Elliot could see them because this isn't the time to cry; this is the time where I finally thank God for blessing me with what I can only postulate as the best thing to ever happen to me.

The proof that Elliot had clung onto us all the while we had to stay away from each other was right in front of me.

Olwyn was so right when she said that Elliot has always, only loved me.

I sensed him walking towards me, and so I turned to look at him. He tilted his head as he stopped close to the side of the bead, and I could swear there were tears in his eyes. Great, just when I had managed to push my tears back into their dams, one look at Elliot and they resurfaced.

Elliot's lips parted as he started to speak. "Celeste, I..." he said, but unaware of how he was supposed to voice his emotions, he pursed his lips.

I mirrored his expression, a tear managing to slip down my cheek. I shook my head as a sob escaped my vocals. "I love you so, so much, Elliot," I confessed in a voice hoarse with emotion, not wasting any time in flinging myself at him in an embrace.

He caught me instantly, his strong arms encircling my waist with firmness. He pulled me down onto the ground while hugging me because I assume it was a little inconvenient for him to hug me while I stood in that awkward position.

He nestled his head into my shoulder, his grip only tightening around me as I sobbed into the crook of his neck. He didn't pull away, only kept patting my long hair down in a gentle manner until I finally stopped weeping.

I don't know how long we remained in that position, but I'm guessing it was a long while before we finally pulled apart. He looked at me, his face softened by several measures, and his palm automatically reaching out to wipe my cheeks dry. I gave him my most genuine smile because after a long while was someone wiping away my tears that till now, had been wiped away by my pillows.

He put me down on the bed and proceeded to sit beside me, his left leg tucked under his body and the other one swinging by the bedside. He reluctantly picked my hand from my lap, entwining our fingers. Sparks burst inside me at the contact, and I bit my lip to keep myself from squeaking out loud.

"Celeste, now I want you to listen to me carefully," he said, looking me right in the eye. "I know you love me, and you know that I love you too. But before we start a life together all over again, I want you to know what exactly happened that day after I left the house and what happened much afterward that it took me nine whole years to come back to you."

I nodded, realizing that this is the moment I've been waiting for, for so long; the moment where I'll finally get the answers to all of my why's, when's, where's, how's, and what's.

He sucked in a breath before starting. "It was nine something in the morning, another ordinary windy day when I went out to bring those sticky banana nut cinnamon rolls that you-"

I pumped my fists in the air, feeling extremely fanatic because my guess had been right. "I knew it!" I exclaimed. "I knew you'd gone to that cafe. I saw you in the CCTV footage, Elliot."

He smiled that rare, sincere smile of his. "You went to the extent of checking the CCTV footage just for me?" he asked, absentmindedly toying with my fingers.

I gave him my best half-fake, half-smug smile. "Of course not. I did it for myself because you had become a habit back then, and not having my only source of live entertainment around was starting to get boring."

Elliot scooted closer to me, grinning. "Bad girls lie, Celeste."

I shrugged, looking around his room with an air of nonchalance. "Maybe. But I am neither a bad girl nor am I lying."

"Uh-huh?"

"In fact," I elaborated. "Now that I think about it, you're the bad kid here because you're getting sidetracked from the process of narrating your story to me."

Elliot narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm not narrating any story here, Cel. I'm telling you everything as it has happened. Real-life incidents, I call them."

My grin only widened. "Still doesn't change the fact that it's a story to me."

He shook his head, smiling. My heart almost felt too big for my ribcage when his eyes met mine, shining so bright, I couldn't look away. I don't know when it had happened, but the fire within his orbs was back, burning with its wonderous brilliancy. It hadn't been there when I met him in the garden, so I knew it had returned during the course of the time we'd spent together in his room.

In that instant, I could only hope it wouldn't ever go away, because just like how seawater isn't seawater without its distinct salty taste, Elliot didn't look like Elliot without the fire in his eyes.

Elliot cleared his throat to draw my attention. "So... yeah, I was talking about the cinnamon rolls before you decided to intervene with your crazy fist-pumping and I got sidetracked. So, soon-to-be Mrs. Nithercott, I must ask you please not distract me until I finish."

A flush of pink tainted my cheeks when I realized that Elliot had addressed me as Mrs. Nithercott. "Okay," I mumbled sheepishly, lowering my face so he wouldn't see how much I loved the title I would be entitled to, in a few days.

If Elliot had noticed my suddenly shy persona, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he continued with his narrative. "So, back to the narration. Celeste, do you remember how I never liked meeting my adoptive parents back then?"

I nodded and he continued. "They were the trustees of the orphanage that I grew up at, so I used to see them quite often. They had adopted me when I was fifteen because they claimed to have seen 'beauty in my silence'. I never moved in with them; just asked them to lend me some money so I could buy myself a small apartment. For some reason, Celeste, I didn't want to see them as my parents. In fact, I used to be so disrespectful towards them in the initial years of my adoption, just so they could leave me the hell alone. I didn't call them mom and dad like they would've loved being called, or spend time with them during the weekends, or even accompany them to the parties which they used to ask me out to."

I listened to him, already engrossed in the story. "Yet, they never left, and I'm so, so glad they didn't. They had always been extremely supportive and caring and just about everything you'd want to see in your parents. Not once did they ask me why I was being so adamant about hurting them, and not once did the idea of being nice to them occur to me. But then, the day I was at the cafe, I got a call. It was from mom. You won't believe me, Celeste, but for the first five minutes, she spoke to me about the most random things in the world, sounding so happy and fine. And then she suddenly broke down and told me that dad had had a stroke the previous week."

My lips parted at the revelation, but I remained silent. He continued. "Turns out it had been pretty serious and the medication hadn't really done the wonders that the doctors had expected it to do and that he was suffering from a temporary memory loss."

I gasped, my breath getting stuck inside my throat. Mr. Nithercott has gone through so much. Perhaps it was to see if Mr. Nithercott was fine that Elliot's parents had gone to the hospital today.

"Mom told me how dad's memory had been tampered to completely forget the last three years of his life, and that he had kept asking for me ever since he regained consciousness. I silently listened to her, knowing that this wasn't going stop at this point and that she hadn't called me just to share her pain. And I had been right. Mom then asked me for a favor for the first time in all those years that I had been her adopted son." Elliot sucked in a breath before beginning again. "She wanted me to leave everything and go live with them until dad would recover. She promised me that after dad's health would be back to normal, if I wanted to return, she wouldn't stop me. And that was it, Celeste. I decided then and there that it was about time that I fulfill my responsibilities as their son. I caught the next flight to London and left San Francisco without so much as a goodbye to the only girl I have ever loved, and our beautiful doll."

I sucked in a breath. Now that I knew why Elliot had left in such a haste, I understood why he did what he did. In fact, had I been in his place and had my own mother been in Mr. Nithercott's place, I think even I'd have done the same.

"How was life after you moved there?" I asked, despite Elliot asking me beforehand itself to not interrupt.

Elliot smiled ruefully. "Life became so damn hard afterward. Like, Celeste, can you imagine what pursuing aeronautical engineering during the day and then handling business- something totally different from making airplanes and something I had absolutely no interest and clue about, for the rest of the day felt like? Add to it dad's deteriorating health and mom getting super-stressed about it, and me not being able to focus on anything because I missed you and Zephrine so much and well, you can pretty much understand why my life had felt like a piece of hell back then."

I sighed. I definitely understood why his life must've felt like a piece of hell back then.

"Did you miss me too much?" I asked after a while of silence.

He snorted, his lips tugging upwards in secrecy. "As much as I'd like to say no to tease you, Celeste, I won't. Because then, I'd be lying big time. There hasn't been even one goddamn second where I hadn't wished for your presence close to me, where my heart didn't beg me to drop all of this, catch a flight, and come hold our Zephrine, where I didn't miss that weird thing you used to do to my hair," he enlightened me, raising his hands to his head in the end.

I reached out and massaged his scalp, my fingertips gently kneading the skin. "This, you mean?"

Elliot let his head fall into my lap. He groaned in pleasure at the way I continued to rub his scalp. "Yes, damn, this feels so good." he wrapped his hands around my waist. "I'm not letting you go anywhere, Celeste. I need this kinda massage every night before sleeping."

I threw my head back, laughing. Perhaps Zephrine could lend me a hand and we could style Elliot's hair into freaky hairdos.

As my laughter faded into the silence that began surrounding us, I picked his head from my lap and peeked into his gorgeous eyes. "Why didn't you call me, Elliot? You could've shared the load on your shoulders with me. You didn't have to do it all by yourself."

Elliot sighed tiredly. He raised his head completely, getting back to sitting in his previous position. He placed his hand on top of my fingers in my lap. "Celeste, you had your own problems to deal with. I didn't think you would be able to handle the pressure of it all, at once."

I raised my gaze from where it was resting on our hands when he said this, and something about the way he had put his thoughts into words irked my conscience. He seemed unfazed, though; as if he hadn't just revealed to me how he had been incorrect while forming opinions about my fortitude. I pulled my hand from where it lay beneath his, and he looked up, noticeably startled.

"So you underestimated me," I surmised, my eyebrows knitting together as I shot him a black look. "Wow, Elli-"

Elliot, quickly understanding why I had gotten irritated in a matter of just nanoseconds, raised his hands in the air, shaking his head at me. His eyes were wide as he spoke, "Celeste, no, no. It's not like I underestimated you. I would never do that."

I nodded, putting on a solemn face before proceeding to voice the cause of my indignation. "Of course you didn't underestimate me, Elliot. All you did was assume I wasn't strong enough to accept the fact that your parents had asked you to move to London because your dad's health was deteriorating, and so you, mister, went poof, vanish without so much as a goodbye!"

Elliot lowered his head to his maroon sheets in shame. "Celeste, I get that what I did back then was wrong. But everything happened so suddenly, and mom asked me to leave immediately and-"

I threw my hands in the air, infuriated. "Sue me for thinking that I was being 'unfair'-" I made quotations with my fingers as I said this. "-to you by not giving you a chance; by not understanding you. Because guess what?" I laughed humorlessly. "You've been misunderstanding me for nine years now! Unbelievable!" I exclaimed, standing up from the bed.

"Celeste, please just-"

I looked at him for one last time. "Come for me only when you realize that I can handle stress and all other negative emotions just as well as you can, Elliot. We're getting married only after you accept this bit of information, remember that."

I picked my boots as I walked out of his room, making sure to keep my eyes on the floor because if I would look up and see the museum-like furnishings of this mansion, I knew I would once again lapse into a session of admiring the place around me.

I obviously am not going to leave Elliot and pretend I didn't just tell him that we would get married one day. C'mon, that'd be the most foolish thing to do after knowing all that he has done for me. This is just a small misunderstanding, and I plan to keep it like that only. However, Elliot needs to understand that he can't just say anything he likes and hurt my feelings and then apologize because things won't work out that way. He has to learn how to word his thoughts, and he has to make sure he follows that particular rule.

"Celeste, stop!" I heard him yell at me from behind. Of course, I didn't stop; just speeded up my strides. He grunted realizing that I was not going to listen to him this time around. "Aw, man, c'mon. Don't do this!"

I passed by the main doors, and entered the lawn, stopping for a moment because I had lost the habit of exercising a long time ago and was panting like a lizard on a hard rock by the time I had reached the middle of the garden.

I was about to resume my escape when a car parked in the same place as that of the cab whose driver Elliot had meted out punishment to, caught my attention. I had seen that car before because I clearly recall-

Then the person sitting in the driver's seat of the car opened the door. The car was away from me, its rear side facing me, and I had to crane my neck a little to see the person.

The backdoors of the car opened as well, and I must tell you this because it's really important, that as the three people who previously sat in the car turned around after shutting their own respective doors, I gasped in an embarrassingly loud voice.

...because standing before me was none other than the gang of three homo sapiens who had somehow acquired the license of troubling me for the whole of my life; Dave Malfrey, Jael Paine, and Zephrine Wilson.

I frowned at the sight of their smiling faces. They all looked so happy, so content with seeing me here. It was as if they had assumed that Elliot and I had decided to reunite and go back to being the happy family that we were nine years ago which we sort of had, but then Elliot had gone ahead and spoiled our moment with his filterless mouth.

Suddenly, my blood started boiling. Why all the people around me seemed so hell-bent over testing my patience levels, I had no clue. Do they not know that my patience isn't endless and that when furious, I can send them all flying to Uganda with my badass kicks?

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