Twenty. An age where everything starts to go downhill depending on the individual's perspective. 

2015

"I DON'T GET IT," ALEX crumbles on the lawn, face flat on the grass, which makes my face itchy. "What am I doing wrong?"

If there's one thing I know about Alex is that when he sets his mind on something, he never stops until he achieves it. Or at least satisfy him. He's been like this for as long as I knew him. Determination in ways I could only imagine.

There was a time when he and his parents wanted a makeover of their house. Alex was in charge of painting the living room, kitchen, gym, and of course, his own bedroom. This happened when we were fifteen. It was during the weekend, and I offered to help.

I don't know why. Usually, I never step foot into other people's business unless they ask. I guess Alex and his folks were different. Maybe I just liked them because they were more of a family than my own. Compared to Alex being normal... ish, his parents are somewhat unique? His dad wasn't the typical average father who worked a nine-to-six job, came home for dinner with his family, and paid the bills. Nor was his mother. She wasn't a housewife who specialized in cooking and cleaning. Those stereotypes do not apply in this family. However, they're both businesspeople who came from a wealthy background.

Mr. Beau's father owns a successful restaurant that serves one of Seattle's best guacamole dishes. Since his passing, the rest of his family went on their own paths while Mr. Beau happily took over the business. With his determination and mindset, the restaurant has grown even more successful. He's a soft-hearted man. The kind of man who shows compassion towards people who don't deserve it. Like racist people or entitled Karens.

His mother, on the other hand, with her burgundy pixie haircut, bikini body, and ageless skin, she's a beauty guru with her own salon. She started her business in late 2005. That seems normal, right? Creating cosmetics for the people. No. Mrs. Beau stood out the most because, in her work, she brought in models who own obvious imperfections such as acne, scars, and various body shapes. She did what many makeup companies won't do.

Portray realistic expectations. And the best part is that her makeup is for both males and females and is available for every skin type.

I guess that explains why she's totally cool with Alex liking boys.

I think.

Anyways, Alex proposed a challenge. And that is to finish painting all four rooms by the end of the week. That would be doable if they lived in a condo or an apartment where the rooms were smaller than their current home. I believe Alex's room is three times bigger than mine, and don't get me started on the living room. More like a living hall.

I tried convincing him that he would stress himself out and end up causing a mess leading to more work. Of course, my words entered his right ear and out the left as he carried on with his challenge. I stayed and helped where possible, but I had a curfew and usually got home by six. On the next day, I would return to see Alex still up, painting. He'd finished the gym and kitchen and was currently patching his room.

I would say he's handling it well, but that would be a lie. His body moved like a zombie, slow and unbalanced as if he were about to fall. His eyes were red from the lack of sleep, and he reeked of stale coffee.

I wanted to pull a big, fat, I told you so, on him. That is until I noticed the details of his work. He did a clean work, leaving no spot untouched. Even the floral carvings on the ceiling were painted with precise details.

Sunday came and left, and he proved me wrong. He finished all four rooms perfectly, leaving me baffled at the impossibility, and so were his parents. However, due to his lack of sleep, food, and body strain from all the physical movement, he skipped school for three days, resting at home.

I swear, if I didn't have a curfew, I would've stayed and helped him throughout the night just to feel restless and avoid school too. Being in this hellhole without him is absolutely draining, and time took forever to pass.

Out of all the projects he didn't give up on, his bright idea of inventing a flying machine takes the cake. It's been over a year, and he's nowhere close to achieving such a contraption. He attempted countless experiments, risking his life as it was dangerous. Not only were there chemicals and flammable substances involved, but there were also threatening tools used. I've stopped caring for his feelings, shall the flying machine go downhill. Instead, I'm more concerned for his safety. The seventy-fifth test nearly electrocuted him if it weren't for the power suddenly shutting off from a lightning strike.

"I'm telling you," I got down, turning his body over so he could breathe. "You're just wasting your time. We could've been doing so much if it weren't for you working on something this ridiculous."

"It isn't ridiculous. It's going to help you," he sits up, dusting the loose grass off his face. "Look, I know it doesn't seem like it's going to work, but I'm not giving up because someday, I want us to travel around the world, seeing and going places rather than watching them from our screens or posters or magazines."

"It'll—"

"And don't say it'll wear off because it's been four years, Jon," he cuts me off. "Phobias don't just go away. They only take a break until something triggers it again."

Damn, took the words right out of my mouth. And I wonder how often I have used that as an excuse.

My knees are comfortable on the lawn as I take his hand in mine. His palm is warm and sweaty, and minor calluses dotted the bottom of his fingers from all the work he's been doing. I wanted to say something, I could feel the words on the tip of my tongue, but that's where they stopped, hesitant to come out.

"But you are right about one thing," his grip tightens around mine, gently and comforting. "I could use a break. You and me both. Remember? I wasn't the only one trying to make this invention possible. All those times, you lent a hand, cheering to keep my spirits high even though I knew you were against it. And let's not forget the many times you've slept by the dining table, exhausted from being brave for the both of us?"

He shifts to face me, our hands intertwining, sky-grey orbs on mine.

"I never said this before, but thanks for everything you're doing, whether you realize it or not," his lips stretch into a soft smile. The one I'd yearn to see every morning the moment I woke up. "What do you say we pack up and bail to Greece!"

...

It is not surprising that Alex passed his driving test in one go. The guy has driven both of us way before our legal age. He got his driver's license last week, the same week we graduated from high school.

I guess I can say farewell to school and fuck everyone I had the displeasure of meeting, especially the teachers. I'll never miss you guys.

He's already registered for college at Seattle University, taking a fashion design course. And honestly, I was not expecting that. Alex has never shown or talked about the fashion industry before. He always wore simple clothes and made less effort to be presentable. Ish. I never thought he'd be interested in designing outfits. However, who am I to judge. He's got his life checked, while I don't even know if I want to skip tonight's dinner.

Anyways, since then, he's been begging his parents to let him go on vacation. Somewhere out of Seattle, just him. Or so I thought. I'm invited, apparently. I'm not complaining, but it will be challenging to convince my side. It's already hard to ask for a sleepover at Alex's place without being checked if I hid any condoms or drugs in my backpack. Let alone going on a vacation out of the country with a friend. At least, that's what they see him as.

"Greece?!" I flip. "Are you aware of how far that is? It's like a twelve-hour flight from Seattle. How'd your parents even agree to that?"

"They're the ones who recommended it, actually," he laughs, releasing my hand and rising to his feet, pulling me to mine. He dusts the dirt off his basketball shorts, heads to the porch, and picks up his phone from the garden table. "Believe me, I was surprised too when I first heard it. They were sharing a story about their honeymoon in Greece and how it was a beautiful place to just kick back and relax. You know, the kind of stuff people do when they're on vacation?"

"So, your parents think your vacation is our honeymoon?" That sounded less stupid in my head.

"Nah, they simply believe it's a perfect spot just for the two of us. Plus, it's a country rich in Greek Mythology history. Aren't you a major fan of it? I mean, I've seen you reading about them practically every time we visited the school library," I plop down next to him, elbows resting on my knees. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept mine on my barefoot.

"Please? Say you'll follow?"

"Are you sure we'll be able to manage by ourselves out there? We're only nineteen, Al," I scratch the back of my head, unable to find the words that don't sound like I'm a pussy.

"Technically, we'll be twenty soon, or at least, you'll be the first. Don't think I've forgotten your birthday," he surrounds his arm on my waist, his head leaning against my shoulder. My cheek falls on his head. "You're turning twenty soon, and I want us to celebrate it properly. You may not like birthdays, but to me, it's the only day I look forward to every year because... hey, it's the anniversary of the day you existed."

Twenty. An age where everything starts to go downhill depending on the individual's perspective. An age where you're no longer allowed to be yourself because the world despises originality. It adores a duplicate of others while its true self is buried deep in the darkness of its mind. An age where you'll learn the ways of an adult lifestyle because, like it or not, everyone will end up there someday. Of course, those who didn't make it don't have to face it, at least not in this life.

They're the lucky ones.

"Even if it feels like we're not, I'll be there with you. I promise," he says after a pause.

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Just think about it, okay? If you're worried about the expenses, fear not. You're gonna kill me for this, but mom and dad will cover the entire trip. All we have to do is just make the best of it," he speaks with delight, and I can't help but feel guilty for making his parents spend that kind of money for me, especially when I'm not even their kid. "If you're afraid, I respect your wishes, but I'm going either way. I'll call you every day, every hour, every minute if I have to."

"You know my parents aren't the same as yours," I said. "I'll say yes. To the ends of the earth, to the moon, or to the depths of the sea, I'll always follow you. But I'm still under my parents; they'll never agree to this."

"I thought as much, which is why my parents and I have devised a plan that is sure to work," he gives a smug look, and I snigger. "This means you're coming?"

"If you guys can find a way around my parents, then hell, yes, I'm coming," before I knew it, he threw his arms around me, falling on my back in the process.

Our parted lips met, and I could feel the smile on his.

"Thank you," he pulls back, laying his head on my chest, as my arms embrace him. "This is going to be an adventure we'll never forget."

"I hope you're right."