touch.

V

From afar, I can tell that nobody's at the tree. I stroll over to the tree, sitting under it. Craning my head around, I spot no signs of Lockhart.

So there I sit, reading a random book I had taken from the charity box earlier in English Room. Ms Robinson said we could take as many books as we wanted, with the condition we shall put back the same amount of books we had taken. I doubt any of them are going to do so. Most of the people my age would usually just take a book or two with the thoughts like 'this book look pretty interesting', or it has a great cover, or the title sounds cool or I just wanna be a normal kid that take books from this box.

I can say I'm a mix of all.

I take a deep breath, turning the book from the back to the front again and again. Why the hell did I pick this book up?

Probably because it's pink.

Not long after, a voice says, "You like poetry?"

My head snap at the direction of the voice, catching Demitri in sight.

His small smile twitches into a total sad frown when his eyes land on my face.

"oh my god," he mumbles, as he clumsily sit on the ground next to me. He almost touches my face when he retracts his hand quick—which I kinda wish he touched my cheek. I'd die to feel his soft fingers on my skin. "I'm so so sorry." His voice, still sounding as soft as the days earlier, not going even a tone louder.

"It's okay. It just hurts a little. I'm fine."

Who am I kidding? It hurts like hell.

"It's not okay. I hurt you. You saved me and I, and I hurt you." The tone of his voice changes—his voice cracks, as if he's about to cry.

"Hey. It's alright Demitri. You didn't mean it. It wasn't your fault. It was my fault. I was the one who stood in your way. You did nothing wrong."

He glances at me with sad puppy eyes, "How am I ever going to make this up to you?"

"Come over for dinner." I say without thinking twice. I suck in a breath, realizing how improper it is for me to ask him like that.

"Dinner? I- I don't k-"

"It's okay if you can't. I don't know I just think it's normal to have friends over for dinner." I shrug, like it was just an idea. It wasn't. I really want my mother to see him. To see this beautiful carved human being, the literal porcelain doll—fragile and perfect.

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I'll come." He licks his lips and nod at me reassuringly, "As an apology."

I feel my heart warming, as if someone had hugged it firmly.

I don't think the car ride from my house to my campus is that long for one to fall asleep, but Demitri did fell asleep.

His hands are both clutching to the seatbelt, as his head tilts to rest at the door. He looks so calm, despite all the worrying in his head.

I have pulled off in front of my house for a bit, but I didn't have the heart to wake him up. I slide out my phone from my pocket to text my mom.

I'm telling her I brought a friend home for dinner, and it's a guy. Her reply doesn't hint any kind of disagreement or anything. She even asks what should she make for dinner.

Typing my reply, I hear Demitri shifts in his seat. Not long after, his eyes open slowly. I greet him with a smile, before continuing to type my reply.

"Hello sleepyhead, how are you feeling?"

"How long have I been sleeping? Are we there yet?"

I let out a short laugh. "Yes. We arrived about 30 minutes ago." I slide my phone back in my pocket as soon as I told my mom he's up. Turning the keys to the left, the car engine slowly soften and then off.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?" He says apologetically, frowning at me. He unlocks the seatbelt and wipes his face a few times.

"No worries. You looked so tired, I didn't have the heart to wake you up. Come on now, my mom is making dinner."

We both hop off the car. "I hope you would enjoy spaghetti."

Shutting the door close behind us, I find my mom standing at the kitchen's entrance, wiping her hand at the towel hanged on the wall. Her head is tilting slightly to a side and her face wrinkles as she greets Demitri with a warm motherly smile.

"You must be Demitri." My mom is where I got my attentive behavior from. We can both feel when someone is not really okay. With this sense gifted, we tend to be very patient and don't easily make contacts with certain people.

The sense strikes my mom, made her smile instead of offering him a hand shake or hug.

I remember she once told me the rule is if we sense something isn't right for a person, let the other person start any kind of contacts first.

"Yes. Nice meeting you Mrs Guisa." He return the smile back, but his nervousness can easily be detected by his eyes activity and his hands that are either clutching tight to bag straps or scratching each other.

"Oh love, call me Anara. You really is such a beautiful boy, Demitri. Josa is very right." She says, earning a blush from Demitri—and me. Yes I did told her a little about him when she found his book that I was reading, but it doesn't necessarily need to be told to him.

"Thank you." I realize his eyes goes on me for a quick second before smiling at my mom.

"You guys must be very hungry," She says in motherly tone.

I'm so glad my mom doesn't ask much during dinner, because that's surely make him felt uncomfortable. After having a bowl of spaghetti, he asks to be excused.

I insist on giving him a ride and promised to drop him a little further than his house. He say he wouldn't want me to meet his sister just yet—I have absolutely no problem with that.

"Take care Demitri,"

"You too Josa."

Smiling to myself, I drive away.