"We've been together for a while now."

"It's been three long years."

"Do you love me?"

"Maybe."

"Are you going to pay this or what?" The cold voice of the stern faced lady cashier made all the customers look to their direction.

Sam realized that he was clutching the paper bill tightly as the cashier tried to take it from him. He apologized and paid for the goods he bought. What was it just now? He thought. Ever since he stepped inside the store, he couldn't shake away the feeling of familiarity of the place even though it was his first time being in this city. I should stop watching love flicks. It's getting in my head. He shrugged it off and went outside the store. He clutched his coat as the South West Monsoon soaked the city with a downpour of rain.

It was a time when heavy dark clouds lied closer to the stumpy mountains around the city, a time when a plethora of dark-colored umbrellas flooded the city pavements and curtains of raincoats hung on people's hat racks. Indeed, longer were the chilly damp nights than balmy sunny days of this city of promise, the little city in the north. The once lively city of Iligan was now entering a dark age. Corruption set in when the people's favorite mayor got assassinated and the vile successor took the throne. He was accused as the brains behind the assassination but the case was closed despite the overwhelming evidences against him. He also holds the reputation of being a protector of drug lords.   

But, a wise man once said that sometimes you need to turn off the lights to know which things glow. And it was precisely by this principle that Sam found Melissa. Amidst the shades of black and gray and a heavy shower of rain popped a vibrant woman. Sam could only stand still and stare at her from the other side of the road, umbrella on his one hand and a bag of cup noodles on the other. She stood out like a firefly wading through the fields on a black starless night. She was wearing a brightly colored floral dress under a black hooded coat – a contrast of day and night worn by a person of utmost beauty: long brown wavy hair, aquiline nose and a perfectly chiseled face. 

She hurried towards the entrance of a bank for shelter. And by an extraordinary fluke of love, she turned around and caught Sam's gaze. Sam felt the heat of his body rush to his face as their eyes locked on to each other. To him, it was as if the world had stopped for a minute and that the moment was for the two of them alone, as if Time, itself, had granted him a moment of blissful steadiness.

Even at a distance, Sam could see that beneath the thick mascara she's wearing lies a set of marble eyes stained with the color of a hot coco in a chilly winter night. It was enticing and warming yet, strangely, it felt nostalgic.

Sam stared at her long enough before realizing almost too late that the traffic light had went green and that the people have been walking past him. He broke off from the eye contact to make way for an elderly woman behind him. When he looked back, she was already nowhere to be found. Though short was there meeting, in that day, Sam had found someone who may be able to put the colors back in his colorless life. But then again, this may just be another hopeless romantic's hopeless dream, he thought. A smile crossed his face. This time he was willing to gamble. There was something about her that ignited the engines of his frost covered heart. He crossed the road and went straight to the art shop.

A couple of days have passed, Sam saw her again while he was buying bread from the local bakeshop one Sunday morning. She was inside a coffee shop just across the road. She was sitting just beside the glass wall with her laptop on her table and a cup of hot coffee cradled in her pale hands. This time, she wasn't wearing make-up. She was bare and the entire bright aura she had the last time he saw her was gone now. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She appeared to be talking to someone online, maybe arguing. Sam got curious. He went across the road to take a closer look. He kept his head down as he walked past her. She was too focused on her laptop that she didn't notice him closing in. And who am I to be noticed by her? He thought. As he walked past, he took a glance at her laptop. He smiled at what he saw. She was simply watching a movie. He felt his heart smile now. This girl has just the right mix of seductiveness and sheepishness. Like a kiddie roller coaster ride, he said to himself. That triggered a pang of sadness somehow somewhere within him. Yet, he couldn't quite place it.

"Why would you take a selfie whenever you cry?"

"It's a way of telling myself I should never cry again for the same reason."

"I always cry for the same reason."

"And what's that?"

Not again. Sam pinched his nose bridge and sighed deeply. He walked away.

Back in his apartment, he put his bread on the table top, turned on his coffeemaker and knocked on his housemate's room.

"Hey man! I got some bread!" He called. But all he could hear from inside was some muffled moaning and some creaking of the bed. Is he getting laid again?

Sam has been sharing this apartment with his good friend, Ryan. He was his colleague in the newly put up branch of a news firm. Sam was a writer and Ryan was a photographer. Ever since the turmoil erupted, this city has been gaining a lot of national attention.

"That better not be Mrs. Eva!" Sam shouted. He heard something soft, probably a pillow, slammed behind the door. Sam chuckled.

He left the couple to enjoy their temporary intimacy and went straight to his room. It was neatly arranged. His bed properly made. Books in the bookcase neatly stacked. His pressed clothes hanged on a wall mounted hanger. But, the center of attraction was a large canvas sitting on an inclined wooden frame stand. Paint-stained newspapers lied on the floor beneath it. On the canvas was an unfinished oil painting. He stared at it for quite some time, taking the moment to marvel at what he had done. After all, it's been a while since the last time he managed to hold a brush again. But today, the feeling was different. He always felt calm and relaxed whenever he paints. This time, however, he could feel his heart skipping a beat whenever he stared at this unfinished project. I think I might have a heart attack when I finish this.

He took off his shirt, exposing a scarred body. He went back to get some coffee and bread before going back to his room and spent the entire Sunday morning painting.

That afternoon, Ryan walked in his room with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He was eating a take-out Chinese food.

"Hey man, I got a tip. Hope told me that her friend Melissa is having a birthday party this Wednesday. Not the kind of party I'd like to go though... a lot of elites there, we gotta – "

"Who's Hope?" Sam interrupted.

"Oh, yeah! Little miss sunshine earlier." Ryan winked and smirked. "Oh! And she even brought me this!" He held out his Chinese food.

"And I had to ask." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. So, I was saying, a birthday party – "

"Who's Melissa?"

"Dude! Let me finish will you? Ugh, writers... always have to ask too many questions. Anyway, so, uh, yeah! Birthday party. Uh, she invited us to –"

Ryan lost track in his train of thoughts when he saw the painting. "No way! Dude! That's so sick! How'd you do that? I didn't know you could hold a brush." He was now walking fast towards the painting with his hand holding the chopsticks stretched out.

"Don't even lay a single finger on my painting!" Sam blocked Ryan with his paint stained hands.

"W-wait... gimme a second." Ryan rushed back to his room to get his phone then went back to Sam. "Hey man, take a look at this." He showed Sam a picture. Their eyes volleyed from the phone to the painting and back.

"Dude!" Sam smiled so wide and tapped Ryan's back hard. Ryan coughed, spewing out some grains of rice. 

"Easy, dude!" Ryan wiped his mouth. "So, how did you –"

"So, what about this party again?" Sam smirked and looked up to Ryan, apparently trying to interrupt his annoying way of asking too many questions.

Ryan looked at him with an expression of disbelief. "Oh no! We're not going! I like Hope but... just in bed. I like you, too. And I support your manly needs and all. But, you see... I'd rather prefer raves over this kind of party." Ryan slowly backed away to Sam's door. "Nah uh man! Nope... no sir. I'm out!" He slammed the door and went straight to his room, mumbling as he was struggling to scoop up some fried rice on his take-out food with his chopsticks along the way. 

"Okay, then! Suit yourself!" Sam shouted. A distant sound of a closing door answered him. Sam shrugged and turned his attention back to his painting, his smile still sticking to his face like glue, reflecting a piqued interest on the unexpected turn of events.

Will Sam and Ryan go to the party? And what awaits them should they go? And, what was the picture Ryan showed Sam? Find out on the next chapter :)

UPDATE:

New chapters will be released every Wednesdays and Fridays – for some reasons *wink*

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(Special thanks to @Cganue for the wonderful insights ^_^ )