Who could that be in this hour?

Peeking into the little peekhole my door was built in with, I saw a man wearing a trenchcoat and a hat, his eyes nowhere in my line of sight.

Maybe if I don't make a sound and fool him into thinking I'm not here, he'll go away. He doesn't look like a man I'd be interested befriending.

I was slowly backing away from the evidence, trying my best to keep quiet and reach for my bathrobe to take cover in. I swear, I didn't make a sound.

               "Anyone home? Please?" the voice sounded familiar. He continued to knock with certainty that this is the place he's looking for. "I don't have a dog with me if that's what you're afraid of."

Clearly, there's no other choice. No way of avoiding confrontation. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob to swiftly open my room to the stranger, just enough to let him peek, not too big to let him creep in.

                 "Oh, thank goodness! You were here." The man chuckles delightfully, taking off his hat. He had dark black hair. That face and built. . . . "Ah, don't you remember me?"

I was a bit taken aback from the sudden enthusiasm he was showing me on the first night of meeting. He was pointing at his hair and was looking through the bag he had that I didn't notice before. An apple. He brought out an apple. "Don't you remember? I was the one who asked for help and you earned yourself a fruit from my basket?"

               "Ah, yes! Oh, oh, I see. You were that man from last night. Come in, come in,"

The man gladly stepped over the border and hung his coat and hat by the hook hanging behind the door of my home. I pulled out a chair for him to sit in and said, "wait right there while I make some coffee. Or would you prefer something else?" I hope he doesn't. That's all I can offer at this time.

                 "No, thank you. A glass of water would be fine. I actually came here to check on the apple,"

Weird. Who checks on an apple?

                 "May I ask why? Were you asking me to grow a couple more from its seeds? Because I can't take care of a garden on my own if that's the case." I was placing coasters on top of the dining table I'm used to eating by myself in. And now, this stranger has come and joined me. A first.

                 "That won't be necessary." The man stared at me with a comfortable vibe. Not the scary vibe you usually get from meeting unfamiliar people. The fact that we met last night brought ease to this conversation. "Although, eating the apple now wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it?"

                  "It wouldn't, but I was heading off to sleep, so I'm not in a hungry mood." To be honest, I'd prefer getting mangoes or strawberries at this time of the year. Sweet fruits I could enjoy by myself. Sure, apples are great, but I take those on breakfast when I'm on a diet.

                 "Oh, right, sorry, I forgot to say my name." This man is all over the place. Even I hadn't noticed I didn't know his name 'til he mentioned it. "Natsu. Please call me Natsu."

Should I be giving out my personal info to this man, Natsu? We literally just met. And it's not like giving directions to the grocery store actually counts as a meaningful encounter. Not to mention, the apple thing.

               "I get it," Natsu shrugs, sensing the vibe I'm giving off. "You can't trust a stranger. It's alright."

               "Well, yes. I'm sorry, any other night is a better time than now. I have work to do." He didn't mention his last name. Was it so I could call him by his first name immediately?

I was already by the door when he went to pick up his hat and trenchcoat. Stepping out of the borders and smiled as he put his outerwear back on, "Hope to meet you again next time. Have a pleasant evening, miss."

As soon as he disappeared from my hallway, I locked every single lock I had installed on my door. Natsu may seem like a kind young man as he claims to be, but you never know when and how he might turn up on my doorstep again. How did he find my place? And why would he go through all that trouble to meet me?

🦇

Mr. Fullbuster called me to the office this morning—again. I wasn't excited or expecting a promotion whatsoever. Just the fear that he might have read the message I'm most confident I deleted yesterday. I actually prayed on my way there.

To my surprise, he wasn't in the grumpiest mood I've known him for. He was calm and reserved, looking through the files scattered on his table. It looked so messy, I wanted to organize it myself.

                 “You must be wondering about the topic I gave you.”  Something's wrong. Something doesn't fit right in this office for him to assume that. The Mr. Fullbuster we know wouldn't help us out no matter what the cost.  “It's a little vague, I know. It's personal business. My business. A secret callout for help.” Mr. Fullbuster sighed and rested his arms on the top of his table, unwilling to face me at the moment. “Please, keep this between us. I’m in a crisis with my father right now.”

A little too late with Mirajane snooping around my computer yesterday. With a reassuring smile and a bow, I replied, “I won’t let you down, sir.” And walked out of the office with a high chin, letting the others murmur gossips about me again. It doesn't matter. It shouldn't. All I should be thinking about is my boss’ confession.

As I sat in my desk and began typing in, trying to figure out a list for Mr. Fullbuster, Cana interrupted my work when she leaned against the cubicle with her coffee mug in hand.  “Why do I feel like something's gone steamy in that office?”

                “What are you talking about?”  I scoffed. Like Mr. Fullbuster would be interested in dating someone.  “He was helping me out. Clarified about my writing.”

Cana smirks, taking another sip from the mug, looking beyond the see-through office. Mr. Fullbuster was on call; he wasn't happy. I’m beginning to think he’d want company when he stays to overwork himself. Maybe I should.

                 “Suuure,” Cana rolled her tongue too much. 

Mirajane went in on the clock, handing out the new evaluation forms for us to sign in. People were anxious around the office and tried taking it seriously, assuming they could lose their job if Mr. Fullbuster finds out whose handwriting it is to screw his record up. There are people like Cana, however, who just hasn't grown up as an adult yet and scribbles over the form, making fun of it. I've tried telling her she shouldn't, but, well, you know how it ended.

                  “Want to grab desserts at Elfman’s? My treat.” Mirajane smiled over my cubicle with her bag at the ready on her shoulder.

                   “If this is out of guilt from the message, I'm okay. I need to finish up on Patience, anyway.” I wave goodbye as I started organizing my desk, looking over to see his table wasn't.

                    “Huh. You usually never pass up on an opportunity like this. What's gotten into the Lucy I know?” Mira faked a gasp, giggling afterwards. “But I'm sorry. Really, I am. I'll make sure to get caught next time so you don't get in trouble.” This was the fifth time she'd said that. The other four times almost kicked me out of this office. I have no idea why I hang out with her.

As soon as Mirajane walked out of the office, there were a few more overworking for the night. I went into Mr. Fullbuster's office and said, “Can I clean your table for you. . , sir?”

Mr. Fullbuster was eating noodles on his table. He must've run out of space and let the files rest on the carpeted floor beside it.  “Ms. Heartfilia, I didn't call you in here. Go home and do your job.”

                  “I came here on my own.” I declared with a straight face. “I want to help you. Just organizing these files. It's driving me crazy to think of scrambling through these during work hours.” I even put my hands together to show how much I cared about it.  “I promise I won't be a bother while you finish your food.”

He couldn't care less. He grabbed another batch of noodles with his chopsticks and a spoonful of soup while he signalled me to do whatever it is I intended to do. I was relieved to see he'd allow me to. I didn't expect him to agree, actually. Did I risk my job to fix his files? Yes, I did.

One of the few things I appreciate about this company is the color coding. Blue meant contracts. Orange for to be approved. Red for his evaluation forms which was new to the system. Yellow for pictures. There was a new color, White. Mr. Fullbuster was busy reading his texts. I decided to flip it open to take a peek—there it was, a woman’s profile. Blue hair, pale skin, sophisticated-looking. I shook my head out of the idea and continued to compile the folders by size and color and then finally leaving them on top of his desk, neatly.

                  “I'll be leaving now. Thank you for. . .”

He wasn't looking up. He nodded and sent me off with his eyebrows flinching at me once.