I stood on the cliff, a few meters away from him. He sat on the edge, his legs dangling, peering up at the sky. The pall of bleakness shrouded the ambiance ruthlessly. Nothing felt right. Just dreary and melancholy.

I sat down next to him, my legs swinging in the crisp air, our knees brushing against one another. "Thought I'd find ya here." I mumbled, fatigued and miffed by everything. Emotions sprang to the surface, each striving for survival within me. However, seeing his placid face, eyes earnestly scrutinizing the course of brilliant blue water, and unruly hair ruffling with wave, I felt a tide of calmness and relief wash over my prior worries, concerns, and... guilt.

Except rage. It hovered for a few more moments.

I faced him, taking in his side view. My eyes soaked in his quintessential visage, compelling me to speculate on what was going through his head at the moment.

"So, enjoying the view?" I blurted out, my negligence taking over, the words of mock drizzled in molasses of displeasure and distress.

"Thank you for dropping a message. Thank you for answering our calls. After all, we weren't really worried sick about you. I mean, c'mon, why would we really worry about you?"

Like a dam breaking in one go, the words surged out. After all, it wasn't a lie. "It's normal to switch off your phone and go MIA on your own birthday. Like a very causal thing. After all, there's no one out there who cares! Never-mind."

I huffed, running my fingers through my frizzy curls. Christ, I for sure looked like a racoon in shambles. I wanted nothing more than to take him with me. Go with the flow of the planned night. Let my eunoia dwell in peace.

But, given his intentions for stillness, I doubted that would happen. Regardless of all of this, he opted to keep mum. No words. Not even a sigh! Argh! Irritation. Exactly. That would be the word I'd use to summarize my predicament. I was literally on the cusp of yelling. Instead, I bit my tongue, choosing otherwise.

"Are you going to say something?" I nearly pleaded. Restless and worn out. I had no idea how he was feeling. Trust me, I wanted to know it more than anything else in the world at the moment.

"Wow! So silent treatment it is." I sighed. Ugh! Could I just punch the crap out of him? His silence was not helpful. I needed to know. He needed to release it. This was definitely not how he had thought his birthday would unfold. This was definitely not how I imagined his birthday to unfold.

After many more minutes of dead stillness, I heard it. Sigh. He sighed. Slowly. A very breathy exhale. I felt him shuffling. The distance between us no longer existed. I then felt a weight on my shoulder. His masculine cologne immediately engulfed me. His breath fanning my neck. An enchanting, luxurious tease. The softness of his tousled dark curls tickled my flesh sensually.

The action, the gesture, and the scene in front of my eyes made it impossible for me not to tear up. His gaze was still glued on the river. I wondered, what was so hypnotizing about them?

His face was brimming with innocence. Almost as though he was assuring my presence. He was battling with himself to believe. His beautiful, long eyelashes were fluttering and shielding the grandeur of the blue fire of his orbs. There was an uncanny contentment in soaking up his form. A very twisted sort of insane pleasure.

The weight was lifted. He straightened up once again. Then, ever so slowly, in perfect slow motion, his eyes met mine for the very first time. Like two feverous swords clashing with passion, desperation, and concern, the oceans wreaked havoc on earth. The izles of temptation and something far more than entrancing devoured me totally and utterly.

His lips parted, and words tumbled down, nearly knocking me off my feet. "Your breath hitched, didn't it? Knowing I wasn't there." He whispered. The bolus of air hitting my lips carried the redolent of him. He went on. An enchanting plexure of cordolium. "You were distraught, weren't you? Trying to contact me... "

He exhaled. Then, ever so softly, almost in a broken, wavering voice, he whispered, "Tell me, Sophronia, why do you do this to me?" I caught a glimpse of a glint in his eyes for a matter of seconds. A glassy glitter surfacing and flooding the tantalizing oceans. Just as I was about to confirm my assumptions, he turned away. Facing the other side, his hands reached his eyes as they rubbed them. For a good few minutes, it all persisted.

No words were exchanged. His words. His confessions. His eyes. His actions. They... they rendered me numb for a couple of minutes. I was taking in. Slowly and slowly. Those weren't simply words from him. Rather, an entire tale of a heart wherein I nestled and blossomed.

Vulnerability. So fucking pure. It compelled me to do nothing but embrace him. To let him know I was there. With him. To beg for his forgiveness. I didn't intend to hurt him. Heck, all I ever wanted was to be his panacea. That's it. That's all.

I was about to explain. To justify my absence, however, he cut me off with his hands, delicately covering my mouth. The silkiness of his palms brushed across the soft texture of my lips. His eyes spoke so much. So much so that I was having trouble deciphering his cryptic message.

"Only if you knew what you did to me. I've never felt so shit scared. Never lost my sanity so fucking easily. But with you, Fresher...." His voice switched the path quickly. Flustered. However, a smidgeon of equanimity inevitably triumphed.

"It messes up. It scares me, honestly. I wish you understood." His tone lowered. Something that didn't quite fit well for Aylwin Eldred. A familiar ache curled itself around my bosom. Excruciatingly awful.

"Fuck! Sometimes, I can't even figure out my anxiety for you. For us. It's so out of control. Out of my hands. I hate it. I hate this feeling. Yet what I hate the most is...." What started on the beats of drum soon deviated to whisked whispers. His hands fell down. I finally breathed out. The chilly wind striking my cheeks reminded me of the warmth he exuded. "I can't do anything," he completed, closing his eyes. A deep sigh intermingled with the zephyr.

Every inch of me was on fire. His words just made me crave him more and more. Intoxicating. So damn intoxicating. I peered at him as he rested his forehead on mine. I opened my mouth, blurting out the only thing that my mind could sum up.

"Did you think I left?"

His eyes fluttered open. And once again, the shores were calm. The clear bays appeared as if nothing had transpired in them. The storm never brewed. What a virtuoso at concealing the traces he was! As the following sentences gushed forth, his lips tugged a little, blossoming a paradise of hyacinths in my flaming heart.

"Do you think we're that fragile?"

No. We were not. We were anything but fragile. We were beyond the phase of fragility. We were two amorist. Amasius of each other. Weaving our way in and out of each other.

The warmth of his finger slid past my cheeks. The coolness of his finger ring igniting me every now and then. Tempting. So fucking tempting. The intensity of his gaze drove me insane with the desire to reciprocate it.

"I know, Fresher, you'll always be with someone, somewhere. What matters is that, at the end of the day, you'll always come back to me." My hands coiled their way around his chest. Holding him in my embrace. Feeling and revitalizing myself in my querencia.

As if those words weren't enough, he went on giving me incredible pleasure with his sinuous, orphic, raw words. "At the end of the day, it'd be me, by your side."

My fists fisted the fabric of his hoodie. Under my foreign touch, the plush material seemed far too warm and silky. On hearing his following words, I filled every speck of space between us, if any existed at all. "The two of us, against the world."

Frozen. We stayed. Eyes closed. Forehead touching. Fabric to fabric. Flesh to flesh. Time passed. The wind flew by. The rustles and whistles sounded like muffled voices. Because all I heard was our uneven breathing. Heavy and labored, which slowly relaxed. Rhythmic candace. There were no grievances. No sorrows. Nothing.

For it was the evanescence of cordolium

The caelum cladded in rawness and purity.

A twisted intimacy of vulnerability.

For it was an erotas tale about two innocent souls.

We didn't know how long we stayed like that. Every heavenly moment comes to an end. Exactly in the same way, came ours. "C'mon, let's go. It's too late now." He whispered. However, my mind had different plans for us.

I opened my eyes, a mischievous, heartfelt smile blooming on my lips. "Nah, not now." I whispered back.

"Let's stay a bit longer." His eyes twinkled, both amused and bemused. Oddly, I relished it. When he didn't say anything, I went on. Inching closer to him. Our lips brushing. Once. Twice. Enough tease for the night.

"Just two of us." My voice was anything but sober. It was soulful. And as the following words blithely tumbled down my mouth, I felt his eyes darken.

"Against this world."

"Cake cutting time!" Senior Diana exclaimed, popping the champagne bottle. We clapped, hooted, and cheered at the top of our lungs. All eyes were on Senior Aylwin, who sat in the chair without a care in the world. As usual, he was lost in his own world. Upon noticing our too-saccharine smiles, he arched his brow at us. I was seated next to him, witnessing the smiles and grins of my crew.

Senior Drew huffed, "What? Cut the cake."

His emotions retreated to a poker face. He shook his head with a straight face. "I'm not doing that."

"See, told ya, uptight 80s hunk! Killjoy!" Senior Diana interjected. We couldn't stop the stifled giggles from escaping our lips.

Senior Aylwin gave me a "really" look before rolling his eyes. "Thanks for the reminder. My mates are still five."

That's when Mysie took the brave step of defending us. "Hey! Cake cutting needs no age! That's for girls. Boys, see for yourself."

Before anyone else could react, Senior Chase brought the cake and placed it on the table. The boys bought the cake for him. And, indeed, the cake looked delicious. It was a simple round black cake with a spiral pattern in which tiny silver balls glittered and gleamed. I liked it.

"Alright, mighty men and gorgeous gals, the cake is here, and our 2+3-year-old is here. Let's get the party started!"

Everyone applauded as Sam Smith's "Unholy" played in the background. Everything felt so vibrant and fantastic. The party was a blast. Our seniors gorged themselves on the plethora of appetizing treats that were spread out on the huge table. They poured each other drinks while laughing and grooving to the beats.

"Fresher." I felt his rich, gravelly voice subtly tickle me. Clashing my eyes with his amused ones, I couldn't help but gawk at him. We changed our attire on the way back to the venue. I didn't know about him, but I sure as hell wanted to appear presentable.

Furthermore, I doubt there was any clothing he couldn't pull off. And there he was, poised right in front of my eyes, looking as devilish as ever. He looked dapper in a beaver-brown Henley shirt, faded black jeans, and shoes. His hair was styled back in its usual untamed way. The bar pendant dangling around his neck fluttered my heart.

While I was dressed in a long white skirt with a black printed design that ended a bit below my knees. I paired it with a white ruffled crop top and matching flats. Since I had little to no time, I resorted to side braids with a few white pins in the layers.

"Do it for me." He spoke with a tinge of coaxing in his voice. Instead, I retorted, dodging his charming attempt, "Oh my, c'mon, don't be such a buzzkill now. Or else, I'll have to agree with Senior Diana's '80s hunk' statement."

I pouted, gesturing for him to acquiesce. However, he did quite the opposite. He shook his head at me, shrugging nonchalantly. "Sure. Go on."

"Senior Aylwin!!!" I shrieked, glaring at him. His amusement never wavered. And, almost as if my eyes had tricked me, I noticed a slight tug on his lip. He stifled it, getting up and mumbling, "Fine, my lady!"

We walked into his place. I led him across the well-kept garden to the tastefully designed porch. My gaze stayed fixed on his face, imbibing in his reaction. All I got instead was disappointment. He was back with his Poker Face. No reaction. Nothing. Not even a little tittle. Argh!

It was around midnight or so when we left Senior Drew's place. Everyone was still there, having a great time. Drunk but still partying. They had a movie night planned. That was the best time to take our leave. And it was time for my nighttime plans. Honestly, I was on cloud nine, registering each moment passing by. I was happy. Very, very happy.

We took our seats while I dashed inside the house to fetch the special dish of the night. I placed the two glasses of frozen coconut caramel frappe on the platter, along with the crunchy chocolate balls. On my way back to him, I caught him eyeing curiously at the tiny wrapped up boxes in front of him.

I cleared my throat to get his attention. His pupils dilated as soon as his eyes rested on me. Something vivid flashed through before their silhouettes alone reigned.

I sat down next to him, setting the platter down, and offered him his frappe. He mumbled a quick thank you; all the while, his eyes never once strayed.

"Drink!" I said, sipping my own drink. And boy, was it delicious!

Instead, he asked, "What's this?" His curiosity almost made me gush over him. I cracked a smile. A sweet, syrupy smile, "Cinderella's Pumpkin."

He rolled his eyes, finally sipping his drink. He nodded and hummed in satisfaction. "Delicious." That one word was far too alluring for my ears. I was delighted that he liked it.

"Choose one." I placed three teeny-weeny, packed boxes in front of him. His gaze darted between the three stuffed, shimmery boxes, eventually settling on the center one. He unwrapped it, revealing a tiny glass bottle, written—make a wish. He flashed me an amused glance.

"Make a wish, and then open the next one." His amusement drained away. He stared at me, flummoxed, for a couple minutes. It almost made me laugh. "Get up. Close your eyes and make a wish. It's that simple."

He sighed, but he nevertheless obeyed my instructions. He stood up, and I followed suit. I watched him solemnly close his eyes, and then a few seconds later, he opened them. The box looked so small in his long, sleek fingers.

He was about to pull the ribbon when a very innocent question managed to slip from my lips. "By the way, what did ya wish for?"

His movements ceased. He turned to face me, getting closer and closer. The twinkle of mischief lurking in his eyes. A slight smirk grazed his luscious lips. His face was almost a mere few centimeters away as he leaned further. His slight stubble brushed up against my cheeks. His nose stroking my earlobe as he whispered his "wish."

"Your flesh and..." A bolus of his redolent breeze caressed my face. I shivered from the strange sensation. "Your soul." My breath hitched. Spells of pleasure flooded and flowed inside me. His words, Jesus! So naïve. So true! Yet... so enticing! So soulful...

With that, he stepped back and eventually unboxed the box, leaving me to catch my breath and steady my racing heart. The second box revealed another little glass jar with a bronze key. He picked out the key. It was ridiculously funny seeing him play these silly games. It was as though he were a child searching for his present.

"Now, lastly, the third box. Here we go!" I handed him the last teeny-tiny packet. He opened it up to see a book-like chest. It was secured with a lock. He unlocked it using the previous key. Opening the little book chest, he looked inside, then at me. I laughed at his amused expression. His lips twitched slightly, as if he were fighting a smile. He shook his head at me, glancing at the beautiful, tiny glass bottle fitted into the book chest. He took out the bottle, which contained a little rolled-up note. With a gentle tug of cork, he pulled out the neatly coiled paper and unrolled it.

Amusement. Throughout the entire puerile act, he was amused. I couldn't stop laughing as I recalled the written words.

"To Senior Poker Face,

You are such a fucking sin that I'd love to commit every fucking time.

Yours,

One and only,

Fresher."

His gaze roved over the few centimeters of sheet. Engraved in black ink. He stiffed. My gaze was intently focused on his tense form, keenly studying him. Eagerly awaiting his reaction.

And that's when I heard it. His chuckle.

His deep, heartwarming chuckle instantaneously melted me. The sound echoed in my head. Resonating. Rejuvenating. Melodic and mellifluous. I was half expecting him to put on the poker face again, as if he recognized what he had done, but this was Aylwin Eldred we were talking about. Of course, he had to surprise me again.

And And this time, he stunned me in the most exquisite way. Most enchanting of all. Most sensual of all. Most beautiful of all.

He smiled.

Like a heartfelt, pleasant smile. The guy I'd only known for his emotionless eyes and austere demeanor, but seeing him like that... aroused something wickedly treacherous in me. The fact that his smile didn't falter almost weakened my knees. I didn't know how to react. So all I did was peer at him, astonished and spellbound. Tantalized by the splendor of his smile.

If his poker face lured me in. Let's just say his smile drove me wild with temptation.

"From where it all started." His voice jolted me away. He was aware of the effect he had on me. And the mischief and mirth made it abundantly obvious.

"I thought it was way back then, huh?" I found my own voice challenging. I amusingly replied. My tone became more voluptuous and low.

"Probably it was. But wasn't it all about desire, quest, and something ineffably sinful?" He was right. It was undeniably true. I accepted it.

It was all about infatuation at the beginning. That time, I didn't know what we were. What we had. Whatever it was, it was untitled. Blurry and murky. Rusted and mending. Still, nothing changed. It all remained the same. And none of us bothered to label it whatsoever. It was better left there. Untitled and overlooked.

I wanted him. I coveted Aylwin Eldred more than anything else in the world. He stood out in a sea of millions. He was a rare gem that caught my eye. An intriguing tale that I was selfish and greedy to have and taste. The rawness he had in him, the suaveness, had me questioning my own morals.

Right then, I realized Aylwin Eldred wasn't just a name. It was a feeling. A highly painful pleasure I'd given myself. Something so enticing that my body had grown accustomed to it.

He was out of my league. Yet in my vigor and fervor to have him all to myself, I veered off course. I took the risk. I didn't want to heal him. Heck! I wanted to ruin him. Wreck him just so I'd be the only one who knew how to heal him. And perhaps that was the only way I wanted to mend myself.

Through exchange. From him to me. And vice versa.