SIX | LAKAD

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Outside, I took a lungful of air as if I've been in the middle of Pacific Ocean for a long time; I breathed as if I've died and been brought back to life. I plopped down my usual seat outside the cafeteria and ignored the chilly weather as I closed my eyes, enjoying the ambiance and definitely enjoying the silence.  But then I abruptly opened my eyes when a realization hit me—

"Do I need to ask you again- Maryssa, isn't it?"

There he was again, standing in front of me; an unlit cigarette at the corner of his mouth. I didn't move from this spot and stared back at him, trying not to be distracted with his (intense) eyes but absolutely failing. Do I need to remind you I'm not good with keeping eye contact? Plus, I am suppressing the urge to fan girl right in front of him! 

He produced a lighter and lit his cigarette, before sitting down next to me and took his first hit. I scooted a bit, barely suppressing my inner fan girling. I coughed a little when the stench of smoke hit me. 

"You haven't answered my question yet, Maryssa." He said, taking another drag. I sneered at the cigarette and- oooh, would you look at those lips!

Now is not a good time to fan girl, dammit! He's saying something. Focus!

When I saw that he's about to puff out his smoke I immediately covered my hand over his lips. "Hey, my man—" I emphasized 'my man' for I still don't know his name. "—didn't you know that second-hand smoke is more dangerous than those who directly smoke, huh? Not to mention I have asthma so if you're going to blow that, at least blow it the other way! Understand?" 

For the first time since I saw him, he was looking at me wide-eyed now. Not the usual intense stare- yay! I still have my hand over his—okay, I couldn't help but comment (cue another L-O-L here)—soft lips. We actually look ridiculous, mostly him: I definitely have the scolding mother look, whilst he still has that wide-eyed expression, wisps of smoke coming out of his nostrils and mouth.

Slowly, he nodded and I slowly (and hesitantly) removed my hand. He thankfully turned the other way to exhale.  He looked back at me, smirking. "If there's someone blowing anything. . . that should be you." 

Uhm . . . what? I blankly looked at him, and I can imagine the loading icon littering at the back f my mind. He then burst out laughing. He earned himself another blank look. 

"Oh . . . uhm, you didn't—"

"W-WHY YOU-! PERVERT!" I burst out . . . a minute too late. I blushed and looked away. The nerve of this guy!

He let out a low chuckle. "There, there. I was kidding." 

An awkward silence followed. "So, you haven't answered my question." He repeated. 

 "Uhm . . . here?" I answered. He was asking where am I heading minutes ago, right? 

He shook his head. "No, not that. I know where you're going. I'm here after all."

I grew irritated. "Dude, could you get any weirder? I don't even know your question—"

"What's up with you?"

My face scrunched up at his question and looked at him, trying to remember when he asked that.

The smoker guy stood in front of me, with an unreadable expression masking his face. But that's not what grabbed my attention. Now that he's facing me I can finally see his face. His eerily familiar face.

I could never forget that intense gaze.

"What's up with you?"

I . . . uh . . . what? "What do you mean?"

Oh. That.

"What do you mean?" I asked again. We are seriously re-enacting something that happened more than a month ago, but this time there's a possibility that our questions would be answered. 

But neither of us talked after my question, both pondering what our answers would be. 

   The whole duration of our talk, I scarcely meet his eyes; for I know as soon as I stare too long, I would be a goner. 

Screw the inner fangirl in me.

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