Chapter 27: Thunder

Chapter 27: Thunder (Wattpad)

All in all, this day was the best representation of ultimate success. Not only did Tristan manage to make scrambled eggs, he made two servings of it, plus, he baked chocolate chip cookies for the first time ever, and mixed his best iced tea, so far. He had a special love for iced tea, but he couldn’t quite explain it. It just like the everyday normal tea, just…iced.

He also loved cookies. He had a jarful of them now and was confident that he could make more.

“D’you want that, uh, what’s that channel – ”

“NatGeo?”

“No, the other one – ”

“Star Movies?” she guessed again.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Tristan replied, smiling. He lightly played with the strands of her dark chocolate hair, his arms around the back of the recliner. They were cushioned together with the many pillows around them, chewing cookies nonchalantly as they surfed the channels for something to watch. He didn’t own much of DVDs, but that’s okay. Tristan felt like a pharaoh.

“I don’t think I know this one…”

“Hmm?” he looked at her, then at where she was staring at, “Oh, yeah. That’s a new movie. Heroes in Marvel doing their saving the Earth thing in one film from one the god’s brother – Loki, I think. God of mischief in – ”

“Norse mythology,” she supplied, animation seen clearly in her eyes as she watched Iron Man and Thor in a fighting scene, “I like it already. I haven’t watched anything in a long time.”

Of course she hadn’t. Tristan noted this with sadness. The time when the Avengers movie and all the others were released, she was in the hospital. She was just there, not even able to do anything to enjoy herself at all.

“You took your pill already, right? The green one I gave you?”

“Only half,” she said, completely riveted on the TV screen.

He wasn’t even aware of it, but a small smile was on his face as he looked down at her. Pulling her closer, he planted a kiss on her temple, not even caring if it was inappropriate. 

Reeya only stiffened for a moment, and then he felt her muscles relax. She even leaned against him. When she rested her head on the crook of his neck, he was tongue-tied. He couldn’t supress the chuckle that now reverberated through him. Tristan was aware that the strings of restraint he’d desperately clung on to was now useless, slowly moving away from his grip.

The most troubling part was that he was letting them go.

5 hours later

It was raining hard.

Tristan kept checking the clock beside his lamp, but he couldn’t see how it could still be 8:30 in the evening. The clouds were the deepest shade of gray possible and the rain was relentless. It was driving him insane. The funny thing was that it was because he wasn’t sure if he should go to Reeya or not.

They’ve retired to their rooms earlier this day, seeing was they were too spent on the day’s adventures. The young doctor couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t like the thunder or the lightning, and he wondered for the millionth time if it was okay to go to her room. Just to comfort her and offer distraction from the noise outside.

“Drama queen.” he whispered to himself under his breath. His gaze wandered to the window, and saw through the little uncovered portion of the curtain the whole scene of the downpour. The plants and trees were swaying to a very fast beat and a second later, a brilliant zigzagging white light crashed upon the street.

Tristan jumped out of his skin as the thunder boomed, rattling the windows of the whole house. He took deep breaths to calm himself, but he knew it was no use.

Standing up, he paced around his room, wearing only his bathrobe.

Go to her? Maybe she – 

No. She’ll think you’re a creep.

She probably needs me – 

And she’ll call when she does. Chill.

“I can’t chill,” he said through gritted teeth. Even if it’s assistance of the most mundane things possible, he won’t hesitate to be there for her. One shouldn’t ignore gut feeling, especially one this strong, and who knew what was happening to – 

The power went out. There was nothing but inky blackness as the drone of every machine in the house slowly came to a stop.

“Damn it,” Tristan cussed as he automatically got his bearings in the dark. His eyes adjusted, and now he could see the grayish outlines of his furniture. That didn’t ease his anxiousness.

Heart pounding, he found his way out to the hallway, ready to rush into her bedroom – albeit unannounced – when he bumped into someone.

“Ow! I – Reeya?”

A small figure suddenly put its arms around his torso really tight, buying its mane of hair on his chest.

“I don’t like thunder.”

Sighing with relief, Tristan returned her hug. “It’s okay. We’ll get power again, they’ll fix it soon.”

“I don’t want to go out – ”

“We won’t go out, we won’t.” He smoothed her hair, “Let’s just find a place to sit for a while, okay?” His statement was immediately punctuated by a strike of lightning, and he heard her draw a quick breath just before the thunder shook the house.

He held her tighter. “It’s okay, it’s just thunder.” He kept whispering soothing things to her ear as he led the both of them to her room, where he made them sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, just hold me – ”

“I don’t – ”

“Please?”

Hating himself for wanting it, he said, “Okay, come here.”

He allowed her to sit on his lap, and he only fell silent when she put her forehead against his neck like she did this afternoon. 

What was there to say, anyway?

Tristan’s state of self-resentment only deepened when he noted the small details: the details that drove him crazy. Things like how warm she felt against him, how noble he felt and seemed to be, with her depending on him, and the way her puffs of breath tickled against his electrified skin. Sum everything up with the fact that all he could see were gray outlines and nothing more, resulted to his breaking point.

Reeya’s hands tightened with another peal of incessant thunder, and of course, he had to do more stupid things.

He kissed her shoulder, and just stayed there, not even bothering with his posture. “Thunder and rain are useful too, you know.” He said quietly, in contrast with the hard rainfall of the on the pavement outside.

“I really don’t think so.”

“We won’t have your bluebells if not for the rain.” He knew it was danger ground he was treading, mentioning the damned color, not to comment the flowers in her painting which she smashed to pieces, but with everything so dark and surreal, the moment seemed calm enough to bring it up.

She only sounded melancholy when she said to him, “A little drizzle would be good enough for them. Storms are too much.”

“Then we wouldn’t have rainbows, he had to fight a chuckle here, “Ring any bells?”

Tristan didn’t see it, but somehow, he sensed her smile. It made him feel more triumphant than ever, knowing he was the one who made her happy even if it’s just for a while.

“Tristan?”

“Yes?”

It was a minute before she actually said anything, and that worried him, but not in the usual way. He was dreading what her question would be. Whatever it is, he had a premonition it wasn’t anything good. When he heard her respond, his heart nearly stopped, 

“I think you like me.”

“I – of course I do.”

His chest felt heavy. The word was just too mild – too common. A person can like a story, a movie, even clothes. What he felt for her was different, way different. 

But he didn’t want to voice it out. It meant completely giving in, and he couldn’t handle that. Maybe not ever.

“No, I mean – just, I don’t know. You’re too…caring, I think.”

“Others had been, too. Nika, Gab, the others.”

“They don’t spend money on me like you do.”

This made him chuckle despite the tension. Thinking quickly, he replied, “That’s because I have a lot to spend.” And because nobody ever made him feel the way she did.

“And now you’re avoiding my questions.”

He clenched his jaw. Trying to quell the wave of anger aimed at himself, he lifted her head from her soft hair. He didn’t speak.

“Tristan?” she pulled back and held him by the shoulders, “What’s wrong – ”

“Stop asking questions.”

She fell silent. The hurt she felt seemed magnified in the words left unspoken by either of them. 

Tristan had to swallow another tremor of resentment, this time, it was aimed at her.

She had no business getting hurt. It’s not like she feels what I feel.

“Hey, I’m sorry – ”

“No, it’s fine. This is nothing.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

Unable to resist t any longer, he raised her eyes to meet hers. It was dark, but he could still make out her features, and he hated that. He tried to keep his gaze hard, but it was difficult.

Damn you for being perfect.

“So how do I sound like?”

“Really curt, and…angry.”

He didn’t even bother to reply. He felt too strung up.

“Hey,” she touched his cheek.

“Stop,” Tristan breathed through his mouth, “don’t touch me.” Aware of his trembling hand, he removed hers from his face. He hated himself for feeling bereft, for instantly missing her touch. He hated himself for being angry at her when she did nothing wrong.

He hated how he felt right now.

“I’m sorry.” she said.

“Don’t be.”

“If I did anything – ”

“No, you didn’t.” he answered, trying not to let her hear how bitter the words meant to him, “You didn’t do anything.”

And that’s just the problem, he wanted to say, you didn’t do anything and yet I fell in love with you.

Chapter 26: Some new things

Chapter 26: Some new things (Wattpad)

          Part I:

It turned out that Reeya taught him more than kitchen necessities in the course of the day.

The first adventure they went with was painting. Tristan was no artist – her knew that for sure – but with Reeya’s gentleness and easy hand, he learned tons of things quickly. She lectured him on some points; about posture, wrist angle and distance from the object. It was mostly about effort, but he didn’t mind. As long as Reeya was with him, everything was marvelous in his eyes.

“Maybe you should try mixing these two,” she said, pointing to white and carnation pink colors, “more on the pink than the white, and just relax, okay? Hey, don’t slouch.”

Tristan’s back became ramrod straight. “Sorry. I’m a bad student.”

“No,” she laughed, “you’re not that bad. Just go easy so the strokes won’t be rigid and too deep. Your picture’s supposed to be ethereal.”

“I don’t see how painting a vase with cherry blossoms on it can turn out to be ethereal,” he responded with doubt, looking at the object in question.

“You’re a beginner, okay? You don’t just turn to Van Gogh in less than an hour of practice. Here,” she rose from her seat, not finishing her own work –she chose to work on the chandelier – and stood behind him. She held his hand and guided it though the canvas, making him insane, “Vases are always easy to paint. They have subtle curves, see? The details one them are the hardest to get right though, because you’re sort of painting another painting, and you can’t replicate everything perfectly. Just go with the flow. Get it?”

“Every word,” Tristan replied, dazed. He was subtly crazed by the friction of their skin, never wanting it to end.

“There,” she said, satisfied, “use that as a springboard. Go on, it will be great.”

“Hope so.” he took a deep breath. The little bit of drawing will be the smaller problem; he’s really distracted by their close proximity. Just an inch to his left, and her shoulders would brush his and Tristan found it intoxicating and ridiculous.

“That’s good.”

“What? Oh,” he flicked his eyes away from her face and to his work, which, in his opinion, was passable. “It’s not that horrible, huh?”

“No, it’s really good. You should finish it – I want to see it when it’s done.”

Now inspired beyond words, Tristan began to paint with more feeling.

Part II:

“No, don’t do it too hard. Just make it more of a tap.”

“My kitchen’s the devil’s bathroom already – ”

“Exactly the motivation you need, right?”

Tristan groaned. Three hours passed after he started his painting project and with nice results, too. Truth be told, he was really proud of his output. Though, as Reeya said, it was no Van Gogh, it was good for an amateur try. He didn’t mind if it was Van Gogh anyway – he wanted it to be full-out Tristan Devon. 

It was also to his ego’s benefit that Reeya was highly pleased with the painting, and making her feel happy was more than a professional success right now.

Then they got to cooking.

“Look here,” she said. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she looked really homey. Her slender fingers grabbed another egg from the tray and expertly cracked it against the tiled countertop, pouring the yellow-colorless contents on a small bowl using a single hand.

“Wha – how did you do it with only one hand?” he asked, stupefied. Whenever he got to opening the shell, he could barely do it properly with the use of both of his hands, let alone only one.

She laughed then said, “I told you – you’re doing it too hard. Whenever I see you try, I really feel sorry for the egg shell – ”

“But it’s an inanimate object! I’m only – ”

“Ahh, that’s it. I see.” She said with sudden realization, “Now I know your problem. Stop thinking that way, okay? Treat the poor thing as if there’s something alive inside, and that you should crack it open properly so you can get it out.”

“Wow.” He never thought of it that way before. “Okay, I’ll try again.”

“For the eighth time.”

He grimaced. “Ha ha. So funny, Miss Hamilton I-know-it-all.”

“Charming. I’ll clean this up before you wreak havoc again.”

Feeling warm inside, Tristan watched as she mopped up their corner in the wide expanse of the kitchen. She threw the egg shells in to bin, and then cleaned up the yolk spilled on the floor from failed attempts earlier. He tried again and again to crack and egg properly, and minimizing the mess as much as he could.

Just as Reeya was almost done, he looked at the fourth egg resting on his hand. In all seriousness, he could survive without trying to learn to cook just fine – his finances were more than enough for a healthy three-time meal a day, but now that he started, he wanted to come out victorious.

It can be pride, or maybe it was just his stubborn personality, but he was determined to do this.

Slowly, he brought his hand up and lightly tapped it on the counter. Knowing his touch was much too light, he did it again, this time with a little more force.

As he was scrutinizing the zigzagging patterns he made upon the shell, he quelled the surge of excitement. It was still too early for a celebration.

Next, he gingerly pried the thing open with both of his hands, carefully hovered on top of a small, empty bowl.

He supressed the grunt of surprise that was on the tip of his tongue; he felt the shells give way because of the pressure. With a snail’s pace, he parted them further and happiness enveloped him like a cocoon as the contents poured down on the waiting bowl.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” Reeya called out. She went to him immediately, “Are you okay? What happened?” He saw her lovely features turn confused, “I don’t see anything bad at all.”

“No, it’s not that, I – ” Tristan couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him before he spoke again, “I did it. Just a second ago.”

Beside himself with glee, she showed her the proof.

Reeya doubled up from laughter. Giggling, she got the bowl from him, “If I’m not mistaken, this is the first time you did this on your own. How old are you again?”

“Don’t ask.” His smile reached from ear to ear. He put his hand on her waist just as she said, “Okay. Now we’re on level two – the actual cooking. You better not mess this up. This is your lunch I’m holding in my hands, after all.”

“Not mess up,” he reiterated, swimming on the color of her eyes. He now noticed they were actually more of the hue of caramel, when he mistook them for browns. The discovery made her even more alluring to him.

“My lunch. Not mess it up. Got it.”

Chapter 25: Quality time

Chapter 25: Quality time (Wattpad)

            Tristan was a wreck.

          All through the night, he’d done nothing but toss and turn in his bed, stand up, pace around while scratching his head furiously, and then go lie back down. Only to repeat step one. He found it completely draining, not to mention ridiculous.

There were also the two-sided arguments he’d been having inside his mind. From that, he thought his very skull would split in half.

Around 12am, the angelic part of him tried to offer solutions for surviving – moving his room farther down the hall, renew the walls of the patient-and-doctor relationship, etcetera. Then the devil-Tristan squashed everything. Some of its counter-arguments were:

a.)  there’s nothing wrong with what’s happening

b.)  he had every right to enjoy himself with her

c.)   he couldn’t help it at all

There was a fourth reason, but that one in particular terrified him. He couldn’t even summon the energy to form the words, but he knew it was there, just lurking on the corners of his mind, waiting to strike.

So he liked it, in a way. And there’s definitely nothing wrong with that. Maybe it was his reward from above for helping people. He donates books to the local library (albeit medical ones) and relief goods to various places and all those things. If he dared say it, he deserved this break. Not that he’d been unsatisfied before, but when Reeya came, certain things became better.

He fell asleep at 5:30, his head throbbing.

1 hour later

“Tristan?”

No response.

“Hey. I’m really hungry already. Wake up.” The young doctor was shook slightly by the soft hands of Reeya Hamilton, who was cross-legged on the floor, her face levelled with his. Five minutes of poking, coaxing, and shaking still haven’t managed to wake him up.

Disheartened,  Reeya rested her chin on the mattress, seeing Tristan’s profile up close. The owner of the house was beyond exhausted, but if he knew of the view that would greet him when he opened his eyes, he would, no doubt, feel mightier than any of the gods.

“Wake up.” Reeya tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hmm?” came the sleepy, half-minded reply.

“I cooked breakfast.”

“Wha – ” his brow creased, even though his eyes remained closed, “Ma?”

Her laugh filled the room with light and upon hearing the familiar wind chime-like sound, Tristan opened one topaz eye sleepily.

She was smiling timidly at him, her pretty face up-close, to the point that he could count her eyelashes if he wanted to. The stubborn sunlight streaming on the room engulfed her, and this early in the morning, Tristan felt himself getting hot. The room suddenly seemed smaller, tighter, and sweetly suffocating.

He loved it.

“I cooked breakfast,” she repeated.

He smiled widely, and then sighed. If this was the way he’d wake up every morning for all eternity, suffice it to say, it was more than enough. It was also a plus to see that she was wearing his shirt, and although it was a few sizes too big for her, it was dark blue; it emphasized her skin color. Tristan didn’t even notice the small cuts and bruises from her time at the hospital.

Tristan kissed her on the cheek.

“‘Morning.” he said, spirits high. He felt like he’d just won the lottery.

“That was really nice, but I still think we should eat.”

He chuckled, and instead of being hurt or offended, he felt even more energized. The though ordeal of the night before now completely forgotten, the doctor sat up. Then he noticed his bare chest.

“Damn, sorry – ” he hopped off the bed, scrambled to his closet, and looked for a shirt. Reeya was already on her feet when he poked his head out from the closet door, her expression still quite the same but bordering on the apathetic mask she had on the first time she saw her.

Shit, Tristan cussed as he quickly pulled a gray v-neck over his head. This was just what he needed.

“I’ll see you downstairs.” Then she was gone.

All the while he remained in the room alone, Tristan chastised himself. And to think he’d been floating on cloud nine just moments ago. He gritted his teeth.

As he took the stairs, two at a time, he tried to convince the two sides of him that circumstances will change, that everything will be okay.

Mind over matter, mind over matter, he chanted. He’d known several cases where those three simple words made the difference between success and failure. He was hoping for the latter. 

The sound of his heavy footfalls was heard all the way to the dining room, and the voice that called out pried Tristan away from his issues, 

“Speed up, slowpoke.”

Yes, he inwardly pumped his fist in the air. She hadn’t blocked out. But just to be sure, Tristan made a note to give her a pill of Laxino, maybe half. He didn’t want to gamble with his chances – he won’t let her be that way again, not ever.

“The master of the house orders me,” he replied teasingly as he swept into the eating area. His mood brightened when he got his first glance at the room. He was sure he’d never been happier to see his kitchen before. 

This was Reeya’s doing, of course; the place seemed more alive with her presence. As he watched, she loaded the plates with the finished meal from the pan, and even though her back was to him, he found the sight of her appealing, endearing and everything in between.

Tristan walked over to her side, partly to make sure she took care of all the tools and utensils. He would really hate it if she blocked out and used those sharp things.

“You have a lot of stuff on your fridge.”

“Yes, but I’m more fond of, you know, instant stuff.”

“You mean you can’t cook.” she responded, a smile on her face.

Tristan really hated it when the patients saw through his lies.

“No, really. I can, but, you know. I have a pretty busy schedule.”

His answer was greeted with a giggle and she raised both eyebrows at him, “I stand by my original statement.” Then she turned away, went to the table and set the wonderful-looking sunny side-ups on the center.

I’m up to my neck in trouble, he thought as he made his was to her.

All throughout breakfast, Tristan was torn between distancing himself from her in some way, and trying to get even closer to her than he already was. In the later part, the latter won out. He had the task to figure out what happened to her before, after all. The basics of it didn’t sate his unstoppable pique of interest; he needed the details. Like, what the color blue has got to do with her experience, for example. 

“This is my best meal since I started cooking on my own,” he said to her, “aside from my mom’s recipes.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “maybe I should teach you how. It’s not that difficult, you know.”

“Lunch?”

“Sure.”

The dawning prospect of it drove Tristan out of his mind with excitement.