It took him 37 steps and 467 heartbeats to get to her. The edges of the dimly lit room catch the rays perfectly, and it's this scene that greets him as his polished feet meet the wooden floor. She was sitting at one corner, legs propped on the rickety chair. Her back was turned from him but he could see the way it shakily moves as she inhales yesterday and exhales tomorrow. He flinches at the sight, wanting to run, wanting to escape; but he braces himself and knocks on the wall beside him. Clueless eyes meet his figure as the girl from the corner of the room turned to look at him, the tears in the corners of her eyes glistening with the action.

            He takes a second, half a beat, before his feet took him across the room and into her arms. The touch is familiar, comforting even, and it surprises him how warm and how perfectly it fits. “I’m so sorry Amber” he whispers, her cropped hair. “Don’t worry; it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay” he repeats until it hurts, until it’s numb, until her broken sobs muffle the breaking of his heart.

            She manages to make tea though, thirty minutes later. The tea wasn’t seeped completely, the milk was too much, and two broken mugs now lay on the kitchen sink, but he says nothing. He sipped his tea quietly, as he watches the way she stares at the blank wall. The brown orbs shift to look at his, and he fidgets at his seat as the words threaten to jump out of him.

            “I know you want to ask me something. Just go ahead” he stares at her, open mouthed, and a laugh escapes him as she does too. “Can I?” he asks. She gives him a nod. “What do you plan to do after, you know”

            “The funeral?” she answers without shifting her gaze. “I don’t know. I took a leave from work to figure things out and I am sorting them out. Maybe I need a little time” he stops midway from sipping his tea, and turned to look at the pastel walls surrounding them. Memories personified in pictures adorned it, stepping stones and moments that defined her history with another man. There was her wedding day, the day she and her husband moved in, them at their honeymoon, at the hospital. The last had them smiling, two pairs of eyes forming crescent moons that are too happy for the situation. He turns away from it immediately, the smiles too bright that it blinds him, and his eyes fall on a small picture at the very end of the wall. Two kids in matching yellow caps and backpacks, grinning at the invisible photographer. He points at it with a smirk, and she laughs, a sound now laced with a hint of genuine happiness. “That picture always bugged him, you know”

            “Yeah, I’m guessing it’s the lack of teeth” he says. She scoffs at this, and reaches out from across the small table to smack his head. “I was eight. The lack of teeth was natural. And you’re one to talk, your abnormal height was also disturbing” he laughs at this, ringing in the seemingly empty apartment as the happy face that he recognizes slowly came back. The laugh fades though, two minutes later, and what’s left is the heavy silence.

            He hesitates for a second, and when the silence becomes too much, he talks. “He was a great man, you know.” She looks at him for a moment, her eyes searching for something that he can’t place. It was unsettling and disturbing, so he turns to look at the now empty mug in front of him. He can hear a small He was but he passes it as a sigh.

            “I’m moving to Spain” she suddenly says.

            His heart skips a beat. He suddenly looks at her, eyes asking multiple questions that are now in a riot inside his head. Why to Spain? When are you going? Why are you going? How about me?. But nothing comes out of his mouth but silence, and she takes that to explain.

            “I need a new start, somewhere to begin and I can’t do that here. I’m hiring a caretaker for this house, just because staying here is just too much for me. I don’t know when I’ll be back, and I’m staying with my sister just until I have some stable footing. I just—I just need this, now”

            He inhales; then exhales, deeply and rapidly until the only sound he could hear was the rapid thump, thump, thump of his heart against his chest. He closes his eyes for a second, letting it calm him, and when he opens it she is still there staring at him, waiting.

            It took him 9 years and one heartbreak to get to here. He wasn’t going to lose chances anymore.

            “Don’t go. Stay here, with me.” He looked at her; hard and unwavering, trying to bare what is left of him. She doesn’t look at anything else but him, and the steady connection that all this years have kept them together now kept him from breaking. “One week ago I received this” he procured a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and set it into the table. The handwriting is familiar to her, he is sure, and her eyes water at the sight.

            “He made me realize everything. What I’ve always regretted in my life and what I want. What all those women and all those parties meant, and why every night all I could think about was how empty my life is. And right now, I’m doing what I never did before, what I was too much of a coward to do—keeping you.”

            He takes a deep breath, reaches out to touch her hand, and says. “So stay, because I need you. More than a friend, more than anything else. I need you here, with me.”

            The silence lingers, heavy and unsettling, and nothing but the soft ticking of a wall clock filled the room. A tear finally escapes her eyes, and he closes his eyes to numb the pain. He feels it though, and it breaks him into a million pieces, as she slipped from his grasp the second time around.

            “I’m sorry, but now is not the right time”

--

            Six months ago, he was the 27 year old man whose life was a mess. He was the bank manager with endless parties in his resume, a miserable man with no direction whatsoever. Now, he is jobless with numerous stamps on his passport, but he is a year older, ten times wiser, and a hundred times happier.

            He has travelled most of the world by now, dragging with him one backpack and his hard-earned money. He jumps from one city to another, amazed by the new discoveries that he didn’t know awaited him. He lived his life now, truly spontaneous, and he never felt as contended in his whole life.

            Except then he finds himself in Spain, and all he could think about was a childhood picture hanging in a pastel colored house back in Korea. It endlessly bugged him, until he was left with no choice but to call up her sister and get the address.

            He recalls the words from a wise man; Maybe this was supposed to happen, and he thinks, maybe it was supposed to happen, maybe this is their special kind of perfect.

            When she opens the door and the sight of her large shirt, disheveled hair and morning breath greets him, he thinks yes; perfect.

            “Hi I’m Kris. I’ve been backpacking the world lately, because my best friend rejected me. I am 28, jobless, but needless to say I’m happy. I’ve been heartbroken; twice, and its humbling and crippling at the same time. I’ve never been good with timings, I’m always too late or too early, but now I’m willing to take a chance; good or bad timing disregarded. I have been in love with the same girl for the past decade, and I am ready to fall in love with her all over again if she’ll allow me too. I’m at your doorstep now because I miss my best friend, and I’m sorry if I disturbed you, but there’s this man who told me to take care of her, and I wanted to do a good job at that. So, can you tell her that?”

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a/n: comments, constructive criticisms (violent reactions) are highly appreciated, as always. :)