Chapter 6
1187 Words
STAN
Following that weekend, Rave and I quickly settled into a comfortable routine. While he still greeted me and engaged in conversations at school, he stopped shadowing my every move. He began spending time with his group of friends again, and I slipped back into my usual university rhythm.
However, the sudden attention I received from classmates was starting to feel burdensome. Both male and female students approached me in places like the library or cafeteria, asking to join me or for my contact information. I tried to be polite, but when they started invading my private spaces—like my smoking area or where I parked my motorcycle—I drew the line. My apartment neighbor, Noni, the only friend I have from the university, teased me about becoming a campus heartthrob.
If only there was a cash reward for that label, I might appreciate it. Otherwise, I'm not particularly interested.
Rave now frequents the bar, and after my performance, which usually wraps up around midnight, we share a drink and then head to either his place or mine. The s*x is great, and it feels like we’ve genuinely become friends who share open conversations.
When we're not in the mood for drinking, we opt for late-night drives, visiting street vendors to chat over midnight snacks. Despite Rave's privileged background, he has a surprising sense of humor and intelligence. Though his playboy image might overshadow his intellect, I’m genuinely impressed by how his knowledge matches mine and Met's. If he put in the effort, he could challenge me for the top spots in school rankings.
One aspect of Rave’s behavior that irks me is his insistence on giving me gifts. He often presents me with seemingly “random” items. Though I resist at first, I eventually accept his offerings, albeit begrudgingly. This clashes with my sense of independence and self-sufficiency.
Adding to my discomfort is the fact that his gifts often address specific needs I have. For instance, he’s given me guitar strings when mine were worn out, a new pair of shoes when my old ones fell apart, and a fresh leather jacket when my current one was tattered. It’s as if he’s closely observing me, which baffles me. This isn’t necessarily negative, but it unsettles me because I don’t want our relationship, whatever it is, to be tied to material things.
Despite these uneasy feelings, they often fade in the face of his childlike demeanor, cheekiness, affectionate nature, and remarkable flirting skills. Rave is like a burst of sunlight in my generally gloomy and routine existence. He’s addictive, and I fear becoming too entangled, only to end up alone eventually. At the end of the day, Rave and I are just friends who agree on casual, commitment-free intimacy. I anticipate that one day, this arrangement will end, and I’ll be left alone, as always. These thoughts weigh heavily on me, especially on nights when Rave isn’t around. In those moments, I find myself chain-smoking on my small balcony, gazing into the dark sky, trying to fend off the somber thoughts crowding my mind.
RAVE
I’ve been spending a significant amount of time with Stan, and my friends have started to complain about it. Bass, however, just grins and throws his usual sly comment, "Seems like you're having quite the time with him, huh?"
Stan is truly amazing. There seems to be no end to the wonderful things I discover about this incredibly talented individual. Our late-night meetups leave me even more captivated by him.
He must be perpetually tired, given his packed schedule, but he still manages to maintain that brilliant smile. His soft eyes light up with amusement whenever I do something silly, and they shimmer with a depth of emotion when I surprise him with a gift he genuinely needs but is reluctant to buy due to financial concerns. I make sure he doesn’t perceive it as pity because, honestly, it isn’t. What's wrong with a well-off friend wanting to make life a bit easier for someone who deserves the best?
Stan, my friend with hands that work magic not only on the guitar but also in knowing precisely where to touch me. He once told me he’s been cutting his own hair since he was ten to save money. I coaxed him into giving me a trim, and we ended up giggling like kids in the bathroom, kissing and making out in between. His slightly parted lips and gentle snores are beautiful sights and sounds to wake up to in the mornings.
Even my housekeeper has embraced Stan as if he were the best boy she’s ever met. Often, I find them chatting in the kitchen while she cooks for him. She seems happier now that someone appreciates her cooking, whereas I used to opt for dining out or skipping meals.
Stan insists on doing the dishes as a token of gratitude and preparing tea for her to enjoy as she watches. I overheard him mention that his mother adored that specific tea, which he bought with her in mind. Stan seems to be winning on all fronts—he has looks, intellect, and charm. I believe wealth will follow in due time. After university, I’m confident he’ll find success.
I’ve never been comfortable around others, which is why I limit my circle to Met, Chai, and Bass. I’m highly self-conscious and dislike revealing vulnerability. But Stan is different. He seems to enjoy being around me, even when we’re just sitting close or lying side by side on the bed, saying nothing at all. He listens to my ramblings with the enthusiasm of someone engrossed in the most captivating topic and genuinely finds my cheesy jokes amusing.
Perhaps because of this, I’ve grown complacent and started wanting to integrate Stan further into my world. On a night when Stan didn’t need to work at the bar, I invited him to join my friends and me for a night out. It was a significant surprise for him, given that he’d been separated from them since our late-night meetings began.
“Hey, Rave, I think I’ll pass. Wouldn’t your friends mind if you brought someone new? Besides, you know I don’t really fit in with your crowd,” Stan said, his usual sheepish grin appearing when he was hesitant.
“Come on, Stan. It’s just for drinks. There’s plenty of free alcohol, and my friends are actually pretty decent,” I assured him.
Truthfully, I had been dreading this night ever since Bass started babbling about introducing Met to one of his friends. I figured having Stan there might make things a bit better.
“If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave right away. I just need to show up for a bit since I’ve been skipping out on them for weeks. We can grab that favorite ramen of yours afterward.” I pushed.
Finally, Stan relented, saying, “I suppose free drinks and ramen aren’t too bad.”
This earned him a playful smack on the lips and me a surprised shove. We both dissolved into giggles for no apparent reason.
- Writer
