"i don't even know

your name,

or even a single thing

about you,

yet here i am,

missing and longing for you."

Jackson cleaned up the mess, albeit a tad bit hesitant. He knew he had to do the chore, though. His daughter was returning home from her grandparents, and Jackson wanted nothing but the best for his one and only daughter.

The drenched sofa was almost dried up when he heard the doorbell ring. With a gigantic smile on his parched lips [ that to be quite honest, hurt his lips so much, but it's okay ], he ran towards the front door and opened it.

"Ew, daddy, you're sweaty!" His daughter giggled, winding her arms around her father's soaked neck. Jackson chuckled, kissing his daughter on her cheek before putting her down. 

"I missed you, baby!" Jackson felt sentimental. His daughter was gone for a total of five days, and those five days had felt as though it was years apart. 

To anyone else, Jackson's daughter wasn't anything special. For the father, though, she's a treasure. A treasure in a form of giggly, bright girl who saw nothing but positivity, even in the gloomiest of skies.

Her hair was ponytailed on two sides. She was wearing an oversized shirt, pink background with white ponies drawn on it, and sneakers that were barely bigger than Jackson's hand. Her tiny nails were painted a shade of fading pink.

She's beautiful, and nobody and nothing could convince Jackson otherwise.

"Thanks, mom and dad." Jackson said, looking up at his smiling parents.

His dad was already bald and her mother had graying hair that went down just a few centimeters below her shoulders. As wrinkly as they were, they were still pulchritudinous, with their cheery smiles and sunny attitude.

"Anytime, son. Just call us if you need babysitters again, alright?" And with a kiss on their son's cheeks, they were gone.

Jackson shut the door silently. When he looked behind him, his daughter was gone. Panic rose in his chest until he heard the television go on in the living room. He sighed in relief when he saw his daughter sitting on the sofa, remote in hand and eyes reflecting the light emitted by the electronic. 

He joined his daughter, plopping down beside her minute figure. Jackson dived into his daughter's powdered neck, sniffing in her scent that he missed so much. She giggled, the sound high in volume but nonetheless very soothing to Jackson's ears.

"Are you hungry?" Jackson asked, tone gentle and appropriate for children. He felt the nodding of his daughter's head and he stood up from the couch, sauntering towards the kitchen to prepare a simple meal.

He tied the knot of the apron [ an apron that would damage the dignity of any man who would wear it ] behind his waist and bent down to get the pan from the cupboard. He laid it on top of the stove. On his tip-toes, he reached for the pancake formula inside a cupboard above him.

Within ten minutes, he was already frying the pancakes. Some could make it into the category of a circle, while the others were just a mess. A delicious, but irregularly shaped, mess.

He turned the stove off and placed the last pancake on top of the stack. He grabbed the chocolate syrup from the refrigerator and two forks from the drawer. He brought everything to the center table in the living room, two cups and a jug of mango juice being the second batch.

He heard a delighted sound escape his daughter's lips and he knew he did a good job.

♦

Later that night, the two were laying down on the pink bed. Jackson was holding a fairytale book up, while his daughter was laying down peacefully on his side.

"Once upon a time, there was a princess named Lily Wang..." Jackson altered the name of the actual princess. His daughter giggled, clutching Jackson's muscular biceps as she awaited the next happenings.

Jackson continued to read the story until he heard the gentle and relaxed breathing of his daughter. He closed the book and laid it down on the bedside table. He stood up to switch off the lights, plugging in her nightlight afterwards. He laid back down on her side, wrapping a protective arm around her small waist.

They fell asleep like that, Jackson hugging his daughter. [ They didn't wake up like that, though. ] 

♦

If he was to be honest to himself, the bartender would definitely say that he missed the customer that slept through their working hours and woke up when they were closing down. He missed that muscular guy with black hair that slept on their counter, sometimes snoring, sometimes sleep talking. 

But he's still in denial. He kept on insisting to his nagging self-consciousness that he didn't miss the customer, not even a single bit.

In one night, he proved himself otherwise more times than necessary. He found his gaze glued to the entrance, anticipating the muscular man that would enter through those doors. It didn't happen, though, and the bartender would release a deep sigh and return to his work.

[ That night, or morning, perhaps, when the bartender fell asleep on his bed, he accepted the fact. The fact that he missed the customer that would get drunk to the point that he'd fall unconscious on the counter. 

He also missed the gazes that would burn the nape of his neck every time he turned away from the man. He missed how it would get more heated when he exaggerated the sway of his hips, and how he'd immediately avert his gaze whenever the bartender turned back around and looked at his direction. It was a definite boost to his pride and self-confidence. ]