Chapter 3
1195 Words
Pat's POV
Max and I kept walking and stopped at the garden he was talking about earlier when he gave me the flowers.
We sat on a big trunk and stared at the beautiful small field of flowers.
"You like the view?"
Max asked.
"So much."
The place is like a wonderland. It's perfectly imperfect.
I'm in awe of its beauty. Not just the place but also the people around. It is unfortunate when you think about why those people are in here. Beautiful people with the most beautiful hearts in the most beautiful place.
"I should come here more often."
I said.
"You should. This place helps me to relax and calm down."
"Is this like your spot?"
I asked.
"Spot?"
"Somewhere you always go."
"This whole place is my spot."
"Oh."
I see.
"I have a scissor here. Want to try?"
He asked, pointing at the flowers with the scissors in his hand.
"Sure, but I don't know how."
I'm sure there should be a right angle and length when cutting a flower.
"I'm here. No worries, I got you."
We walked around the flowers and stopped at a field of pink roses.
"Now to cut it. Make sure that it's a little sideways but not too much. Just tilt it a little."
He explained as he held out his hand to guide me.
I cut one flower and waited for his comment as he looked at it.
"Good job. Another one?"
He asked, and I nodded.
I ended up cutting ten pink roses, and according to Max, I did 9/10.
Max took one of them and started removing his thorns. It's called prickles, but most people call it thorns.
"Are you going to remove those on all of these flowers?"
I asked, ready to help.
"No. Just this one."
Max came close to me.
I was frozen and confused for a moment when he softly touched my hair and tucked it on the back of my ear as well as the rose he got in his hand.
"Pink suits you."
I don't know what to say.
I was just looking at him when I felt something wet hit my arm. I looked up, and it was raining. Before I could get my eyes back to Max, I suddenly felt his hand in my hand.
"It's about to rain. Let's go."
He muttered as he dragged me running toward the mango tree, where we temporarily sought cover.
The rain started to get stronger, and my mood changed from relaxed to worried.
I feel uneasy.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, um..."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm afraid of rain."
I'm not sure when it began, but every time it rains, I get the impression that I'm stuck in a spooky, loud, and haunted place. I feel like fear is suffocating and drowning me.
"I'm with you. Don't worry."
Max took off his brown jacket and put it above our heads.
"We will run."
"Hu.. huh?"
"We're going to run back. The rain seems to be getting stronger. We have to hurry."
I looked at the clouds, and it seemed like it would take an hour before the rain would stop. If only that one song about the rain is effective
"Ready?"
"Hmm."
"1,2,3... go!"
We started running as fast as we could while we both held onto his brown jacket.
"Let's stop there."
Max said, pointing at another tree.
We stopped there, and after five seconds, we started running again.
We stopped every time we saw a tree to rest until we arrived at my house.
I immediately took a towel and handed it to him because it was cold.
"I'm sorry. It would not happen if I did not ask you to come."
I said.
"It's okay. You didn't know it would rain, so it's not your fault."
"Where's your house?"
I asked, and he pointed at the house in front of mine.
"Really?"
I didn't know we were that close to each other.
"Yup, I'll be going now."
"Alright, thank you."
He handed me back the towel, but I refused.
"Use that one as a cover."
"Thank you."
Max started running in the rain again. I watched him until he arrived at his house, then I changed my clothes.
I lay in my bed and wrapped myself in a blanket. The rain is getting stronger and louder. I closed my eyes and made sure there was no cold air coming from outside the blanket.
I was already comfortable inside my blanket when I heard a loud knock from the door.
I'm too scared to get out of the blanket, so I'm thinking if I should bother with it or stay.
"Hey! It's me, Max!"
Max? What is he doing here? Did he leave something?
Shit, I don't want to go.
"Wait!"
I shouted.
I stood up, but still with the blanket wrapped around my body.
I opened the door and saw Max standing with his umbrella and two chocolate drinks in the sachet pack.
"What are you doing here?"
"Will you let me in first? It's cold."
"Oh, right. I'm sorry."
I let him inside and waited for him to say something.
"I found these two chocolate drinks in my house, so I figured maybe we share them."
I looked at him with a frown, not convinced that was the reason why he came.
"What?"
"You're here because I said I'm scared. Am I right?"
"No. I only really want to share these chocolate drinks with you. These are good. Do you have hot water?"
He asked.
"Yes, I have. Wait here."
I took two mugs and hot water.
"Can I open this now?"
I asked while pointing at the two powdered chocolate drinks on the table.
"Yes."
"Hot chocolate drinks are the best when it's raining."
"I agree."
"So you always drink hot chocolate when it rains?"
No, I'm always hiding in my room under my blanket.
"Yes, but sometimes I mix it with milk."
"Oh, I see. I'll give it a try next time."
I just nodded and continued blowing what I was drinking. I cannot drink or eat anything too hot.
"You said you're a writer, right?"
Max asked.
"Yes, why?"
"Why? I mean, why did you become a writer?"
"Is it not a good thing?"
"No, I didn't mean it to sound that way. It's enchanting. I want to know why you became a writer?"
"I love imagining things and putting them into writing. I also want to live forever."
I answered.
"Live forever?"
"I'll be alive forever in people's memory. My words will stay here when I'm gone. Through my writings, I want people to know I was here too. I used to live here, right here."
I answered as I pointed out where we were.
"So that is the reason why they say that when you are loved by a writer, you will never die, huh?"
"I guess. For me, I only want my words to stay. What's inside this little head. My creations, my art."
I chuckled.
"You talk like a book."
"What kind of book?"
"Poetry."
He answered and took a sip of his hot chocolate.
- Writer
