"Sometimes, eating a thick slice of chocolate fudge cake with ice cream makes you a better person." – Dr. SunWolf, professorsunwolf.com

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Emily's POV

"In a while, crocodile..." Emily whispered, dejection seeping out of her voice.

Faint shouts on the other side of the call told her Fletcher was busy chewing out Erin. Emily cursed herself for not working up the courage to speak sooner. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she debated whether to catch his attention, but her cowardice won over. She hung up and set her phone on the desk. It laid there in stony silence, though the object also disapproved of her actions.

She had been so stupid to even pick up the phone and attempt to have a conversation with Fletcher. Why did she bother communicating with the subject of her pain? Calling him had the same effect as someone twisting a knife after stabbing it into her heart, and the reality was that Emily was causing herself pain. She was the one who drove the knife into her own chest, not once enabling any words or actions to mend the cracks of her broken heart.

As she sank into her squishy armchair, she absentmindedly fiddled with its loose threads. The more Emily thought about Fletcher, the more her anger towards him dissipated. Although time had flown by when she was spending each day laughing at Fletcher's wisecracks over the phone, time couldn't tick by any slower without him. She was a character trapped inside a movie, and the watcher had pressed pause. It was as though someone had wrapped bubble wrap around her head, dulling her senses. She was spiraling deeper into numbness, lacking Vitamin Fletcher.

Was this love? If there was so much heartbreak contained in a single arrow of Cupid, Emily would gladly refuse to be struck by one. Inevitable heartbreak was not worth experiencing more than once. Her gaze swept back to her phone, which vibrated like it was undergoing cardiac arrest. While her anger was fresh, she'd turned it on silent due to a constant stream of calls from Fletcher. The last thing Emily wanted was to see his name flash on her screen a dozen times a day.

A sigh escaped her lips, a breeze fluttering the paper on her desk at the same time. Nostalgia clasped its iron fist around her heart and squeezed tight, forcing Emily to yearn the sound of Fletcher's voice. A week had passed since their last conversation, so she steeled herself before answering the call. "Hello?"

"Hey Em, you free?" was the last sentence Emily expected to hear when she picked up the phone. It hadn't been spoken by Fletcher, but rather by Erin, whose chipper tone cut through her miserable demeanor like a loud voice during a hangover.

"Oh, it's you," Emily mumbled with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Also, I've told you a thousand times before. Don't call me Em."

"Whatcha gonna do about it?"

"I can tell Alex about that one time when you–"

"Woah there!" Erin exclaimed, her teasing manner evaporating at the mention of the incident. "Fine, your royal highness, I won't call you Em anymore." A pulse of silence allowed Emily to gather her thoughts before Erin chirped up once again. "What's up with you today? Does it have something to do with your brokenhearted bundle of a phone buddy, who refuses to leave the storage room of Waffle Cones in case you decide to call him?"

These words took a minute to process, but once Emily did, her mouth dropped open. An electric shock zipped through her veins and revitalized her thoughts. Her expression reflected the weak rays of a setting sun, warmth flooding her body as she realized Fletcher hadn't stopped caring for her. Nonetheless, she was shocked by his extreme measures."Why is he camping out in the storage room just for me?"

"Wow, you're slow today. It's called true love," Erin replied, a suggestive undertone twinkling under her voice. "I suggest you hang up on me and call your phone buddy. That way, you two can run towards each other in slow motion and kiss with fireworks exploding in the background. Alex and I have been waiting for your happily ever after for way too long."

"It's not true love!" Emily forced herself to protest, though every ounce of sense in her mind screamed otherwise."Plus, Fletcher shouldn't be risking his health for the sake of a phone call. He should get some fresh air, at least. God, I can't believe I did this to him."

"Meet me at Henderson Park, near the swings." Erin said softly. "Look, I know you're worried about him, Emily. So are Alex and I. We've been trying to coax him out for days, but I doubt we can get anywhere without you. You both need to come clean about your feelings. Denial is toxic."

"I'm not in denial!" Emily argued. Even so, there was no point protesting to Erin, for she simply responded by hanging up.

Emily shoved her phone into the depth of a nearby bag, muttering some colorful curses towards Erin. She rose out of her armchair with a reluctant sigh, hoisting a bag over her shoulder as she walked out the door, grumbling about how academics were much simpler than this. The amount of revision she did was directly proportional to her grades. Math had straight answers, while science consisted of specific processes. Even English essays had specific structures to follow, but love was not an essay.

Love was a jumble of emotions which were fused together with no specific pattern in mind. Love was a jigsaw puzzle, every piece bearing fragments of memories and words which were dear to her heart. The constructor of Emily's jigsaw puzzle must have vanished halfway through the process, because love hadn't played much of a part in her life until she met Fletcher, and even then, she managed to shatter the bond they formed.

Ever since they severed ties, a cavity had torn itself in her heart, leaking her emotions as quickly as the sand in an hourglass. Fletcher was the one person who could patch up that hole, and now that Emily had lost him, the emotions would continue to escape until she became a shell of who she used to be.

Her footsteps tapped forwards in a defined rhythm. Left, right, left, right. Her shoulders sank, as though compressed springs in her joints had released their pressure. She lost herself within the steady tempo of her walk, the final shred of stability left to grasp. Time sped up as she lost track of direction, and Emily was surprised at how soon she found herself stood before a familiar set of swings.

"Boo!" A voice shouted behind her as she flopped onto a swing. Emily jolted at the exclamation and her heart stuttered, like how it did when she talked to Fletcher. As much as she tried to shun him away from her thoughts, he reappeared at every corner she turned. He was a virus which could not be placated, and an attractive one at that.

"Holy shit, don't sneak up on me like that!" Emily gasped, twisting around to hug Erin. Emily melted into her embrace, the tension in her muscles lost to the breeze. However, she couldn't help but let her thoughts drift towards Fletcher, her stomach fluttering at the idea of embracing him instead of Erin.

What would a hug with Fletcher entail? An arm wrapping around her shoulders, tugging her close as she buries her neck in the crook of his shoulder, escaping the frigid atmosphere through the warmth of his body. A finger tracing patterns on her arm, a language only they shared. A vanilla scent enveloping them both, the honeyed aroma speaking volumes. It was a figment of her imagination, and one she dearly wished would become a reality.

Fletcher was far too preoccupied with Waffle Cones and maintaining good grades, to the point when he'd begun neglecting his own wellbeing. He always put others before himself, which was a flaw at the heart of his strength, since the stress of pleasing others could bubble up and explode, which was what their argument showed. Even though she wasn't the cause of his emotional outburst, she was at fault for arguing back and ignoring him. Why did she have to be so stubborn?

"Earth to Emily?" Erin interrupted her train of thought, waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinked. "Oh, sorry about that."

Erin's inquisitive gaze lingered on Emily for a second longer, but the latter kept her face neutral. After an unsuccessful attempt to draw out her thoughts, Erin huffed a defeated sigh and collapsed on the swing beside Emily. The golden twinkle in her eyes flickered like a faulty light bulb. Guilt ate at Emily, who knew it was her fault.

"We need to talk," Erin said determinedly, though her voice was laced with a honeyed empathy. Her tone irked Emily, for Erin appeared to understand her position, even though she really had no idea. Her relationship with Alex was crafted to perfection, which cast a light on any shadow of heartbreak she may have experienced prior to him.

"What's there to talk about?" Emily asked, swinging back and forth without enthusiasm.

"Life," Erin responded.

"What does life have to do with him?"

"Aha! I never once mentioned a male in the equation," she declared, pointing an accusing finger at Emily. She looked like she'd won a million dollars. "So you do want to talk about him, don't you?"

"You lured me into that trap!" Emily protested after a momentary beat of surprise. "You set me up, you devil incarnate–" At that, Erin took a dramatic bow and tipped an imaginary bowler hat at Emily. "–And you knew I'd inevitably end up mentioning him."

"Him?" Erin asked with an innocent eyelash flutter. She cupped a hand over her ear and leaned closer to Emily, who edged away, a wary sound rising in her throat. "Who's the male you speak of? You need to be more specific."

Emily shot daggers at her. "You know who I'm talking about."

"No, I don't think so, but even if I did–" The left corner of Erin's lips tugged upwards, as smooth as if she were being controlled by a puppeteer. Her smirk was evidence enough for her enjoyment in teasing Emily. "–I think you should say his name out loud. You need to acknowledge your future husband's name when you marry him, you know."

"Erin, do me a favor and shut up."

"Aw, I can just picture you and him in the back room of Waffle Cones, being the cute duo you are. Oh wait, I don't know who he is! How about that? Could you explain–?"

"Fine!" Emily shouted, her patience exploding like a needle stabbed in a balloon. She rose from her seat, the swing creaking in surprise at the loss of weight. Even the wind picked up on her anger as a breeze rippled through her hair, its shriek carrying around the otherwise deserted park.

Erin backed away. There was not one drop of color in her cheeks as she said, "Em–"

Emily sliced off the rest of her sentence with a rant. "You want to know who he is? I'll tell you who. He's Fletcher, stupid Fletcher, the guy I'm in love with, but that love isn't mutual, because I'm a nobody. I'm not special, and he deserves someone special, so he can't love me. There's no point trying to kid myself that he does, but I do, I do. I'm in love with Fletcher! Are you happy now?"

She collapsed back on the swing as her remaining anger receded back into its chasm. Her deep exhales warmed the evening air as the howling wind came to a rest, satisfied by her confession. The darkened sky was one she admired as she threw her head back, captured by the stars. It took her several seconds to register what she had said, but when she did, a prickly dread began creeping up her spine. She sneaked a peek at Erin, who'd been deathly quiet throughout her rant. Satisfaction began to bleed into her astonished expression.

"Well? Do you have anything else to say?" Emily asked, though any trace of hostility had long since evaporated.

The stars above their heads twinkled with the same knowingness as the redhead herself. "You should visit a doctor, because you've caught a serious case of the love bug."

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Fletcher's POV

"Come out of the room."

"No."

"You need food and water to survive!"

"No."

"Are you questioning science?"

"Yes."

"Fletcher, don't be so stubborn." The exhausted expression of Alex was decorated with dark eyebrows, as crinkled as the paper Fletcher kept scrunching up and throwing in the bin. Most of said paper held underdeveloped brainstorms about how to convince Emily to talk to him. Each one had been rejected and found a home in the trash can, which was where Fletcher felt he also belonged.

Seven days, six hours, and roughly twelve minutes had passed on the clock opposite him, counting the time since Fletcher and Emily had their first genuine argument. Psychology claimed that pain would drain away with time, but Fletcher had discovered a loophole in that rule. His tiredness was evident from the heavy bags beneath his eyes, but those didn't come close to the heaviness of his heart.

Having conversations with Emily sharpened his every sense, gave him a sense of purpose and dazzled his otherwise bland life. He found himself lusting over her presence every time the sun rose. She was the red rubber ball to his Cerberus, except she was certainly not a mere object. She was so much more than that. She was the stars, her radiance piercing the ink of the sky. She was a unique cluster of atoms, stardust in a humanoid form. She was the sun itself, and Fletcher was the earth, forever bound in orbit, essence dependent on his beloved phone buddy.

Now he was a planet without gravity, an object drifting on its lonesome in no particular direction. It was a punch to the gut. What made it worse was that the incident wasn't even her fault. Fletcher was tempted to slap himself for believing it was for a second. The person who leaked his secret had already received her revenge, courtesy of Erin, but the damage was done, and that was on Fletcher.

Fletcher rarely lost his temper at anyone, to the point that he was usually the mediator in an argument. However, his secret was one of the exceptions to that rule. Emily was the closest target for his anger, the person standing in front of his cannon when the fuse was lit, and he couldn't forgive himself for allowing her to be the victim of his rage.

Alex collapsed into a wooden chair with a huff, jerking his head so a strand of blond hair moved out of his vision. His eyes were the subdued blue of the sky before a storm, and the posture which usually held him taller than Fletcher had morphed into a slump. Even his clothing reflected the gloomy clouds which hovered above the shop. Fletcher averted his eyes, refusing to look at the emotional burdens he had dumped onto his best friend. His stomach clenched with guilt.

Fletcher exhaled slowly, selecting his next words with care. "Alex, I appreciate your help, but I need to fix this myself."

The storm clouds in his eyes intensified as a sign of protest, but Alex was a peacemaker who preferred to avoid arguments, so he merely nodded. "I know you want to apologize, but Erin and I are worried about you. We respect your space, but get some food when you feel up to it, alright?"

"Sure," Fletcher said softly.

Alex managed a weak grin and clapped Fletcher on the back, a gesture of affection to make up for the lack thereof between Fletcher and Erin. Though Erin was uncomfortable with romantic gestures in general, Fletcher was open to them with the right person. However, the only right person he'd come across so far was ignoring his existence. Emily didn't call back once after he apologized, but her message was clear. Fletcher wasn't allowed to talk to her.

This realization sent a fresh wave of pain crashing through his chest, before Alex's words slammed into his mind like a hammer. Fletcher had a life to live, with Emily or without. He could keep moping in the storage room forever, or he could do something about it, and it was about time he chose the latter.

As his best friend made his way towards the door, Fletcher called out, "Alex!"

Alex turned around with an inquiring frown. A flash of uncertainty streaked across Fletcher's face, but it was replaced by a beam which could illuminate a thousand lamps. In that moment, he knew he was back. Fletcher Parker was back with the vigor of his old self, the one who did not wallow in his misery, the one who would take action and fix the disaster he'd caused. Nothing was impossible when the ninja waiter was on duty.

Alex quirked his eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Fletcher rose from his seat with a renewed sense of confidence. A crisp breeze blew through the front door of the shop as he strode over to Alex. "Wait up! You won't be able to attract a single customer without this sexy beast by your side."

"I never thought I would miss you calling yourself a sexy beast, but you've made an exception to that," Alex remarked, but the ocean shimmer had returned to his eyes. "Do you want to steal some ice cream without Melanie seeing us?"

"You mean us being ninja waiters, right?" Fletcher made sure to clarify.

"Uh, sure?" Alex wisely chose not to question his motives.

"Okay then, let's go!" Fletcher cheered with a pump of his fist, marching out the room and making a beeline towards a nearby stock of caramel fudge ice cream. However, he didn't register the door which separated the storage room from the shop, which resulted in Fletcher slamming face first into the block of wood. He stumbled backward as a searing pain stabbed through his skin, traces of a bruise already beginning to form. "Ow, my nose!"

Alex burst out with laughter. "You know there's a door there, right?"

"Not a word to her," Fletcher threatened. His tone didn't match the sight of his nose, which was rising like bread in an oven. The threat certainly didn't work on Alex, whose laughter only rose in volume. He doubled over, looking as if he was on the verge of choking. Fletcher glared. "I mean it!"

"Of course not," Alex reassured him, plastering a polite expression of interest on his face, though his cheeks were tinted pink as he tried to contain his remaining laughter.

"So, which customers are we going to serve today?" Fletcher asked in a nasal tone, for the swelling was beginning to block the airway of his nose.

Alex twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Fletcher followed his pointed finger and greeted a line longer than the Nile River, at which his jaw hung slack. Once Fletcher processed the fact that these customers had all seen his gigantic blob of a nose and were snickering to themselves, his gaze flitted towards another figure, seething with rage. Clouds of uncontrolled anger radiated off her in toxic fumes. Even her immaculate bun threw off a dozen lightning bolts per second.

"You two." Melanie's black holes for eyes bore into them both, drilling their confidence six feet deep into the earth. She advanced like a lion preparing to devour its prey, which was a fitting comparison, as even her usual ferocity proved a relation to the feline family.

"Yes?" Fletcher asked meekly.

"Get back to work!" Melanie roared, which sent customers scuttling out the door like ants. She didn't seem to notice the chaos she'd caused, but merely bore down on the pair, which was scarily effective, even though both boys were much taller than her.

"Yes, ma'am!" Alex said hastily and scrambled over to the counter. He shot a grimace towards Fletcher as he served the first customer. The man took his Neapolitan double scoop with a mumble of thanks, before he was out the door like a gust of wind.

"I'm sorry Melanie, but I have some important things to take care of!" Fletcher blurted out, words tumbling over another so perhaps Melanie would not be able to understand his pile of gibberish. He darted back into the storage room, slammed the door in her face, and made sure to lock it so he could delay his brutal death. The effect wouldn't last, but he bought himself some time, so he'd better make the most of them.

Sucking in a breath which swelled up the rest of his face, Fletcher snatched up the headset of the ice cream phone which he had been intently studying for the past few days. He had wished for days on end that it would ring its melodious chime, so he could answer it and hear the voice of his beloved Sushi. Now, he would make that dream a reality.

His sweaty fingers punched the number in, one which Fletcher had memorized over the past few months. A sensation in his gut taunted that she wasn't going to answer, that his efforts were pointless. He shoved these thoughts away and crossed every appendage he had, wishing on every four-leaf clover he'd ever picked. She had to pick up. She had to.

The phone hitched, before a confused voice emanated from the speaker. "Uh, hello?"

"Hey," Fletcher nervously raked a hand through his hair. "Can I talk to you?"

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I rewrote this chapter with a cookie scented candle in the background, so maybe that influenced my writing? At any rate, it smells like heaven.

Trying to cut down the length of these chapters takes longer than rewriting the chapters themselves, my gosh. So, what did you think of that conversation between Erin and Emily? It was uncharacteristic for the latter to lash out, but that's what the influence of love does to you. Not to mention grumpy Fletcher, which was a strange writing experience. That just goes to show how infatuated they are, aye? ;)

Anyhow, please bear with me as I fix up the last two sections of this story. I'm super busy with assignments and homework at the moment, so patience would be appreciated. Make sure to leave votes and comments to let me know what you thought of this chapter! I love you guys to the moon and back. Thank you for reading <3