After a good dose of laxative, my stomach did feel much better. Finally, peace of mind. Suddenly, I got his text, it was a picture of a cigarette box, "So, I broke up with my girlfriend,"

He invited me to a pub, where he and his friends were drinking midday. Since I had just recovered from a stomach infection, I decided not to drink. I entered the pub, it was a small pub, with tables on the balcony. I could see the giant, green lake as I walked towards that dirty blonde head; brown hair that glowed golden under the light.

"Max,"
He turned back and his face lit up, "Daffine!"
The pub had some old school music playing behind us. I pressed my coat behind me on the chair and looked at Max. He didn't look sad at all. I expected something drunk and unrecognisable from grief. But he was calm. Eeriely calm. I suppose he didn't like her much, or maybe he grew apart and fell away like butterfly wings.

We talked as his friends drank. He didn't drink because he told me he had a weak stomach. Something about such a big, strong man having a weak stomach was oddly adorable. I told him I couldn't eat anything because I still felt very sick. We talked about school, our studies and what we planned to do in our lives.

"You've known me too little to answer this, Daffine" He looked into my eyes. His friends were wasted by then, "But...Am I a bad person?"
"I don't know. All I know is you're the person who'd stop smoking around someone because they don't smoke. And you're the only person I know who'd be starving and yet not eat because your guest is not eating," He thought I wouldn't notice. He laughed as he crossed his hands on the table, "You got me,"

"You're kind, Max. That's all I know and that's all that'll ever matter to me,"
We looked at each other and it felt like the music was getting louder, I could hear ever letter in every word of those lyrics, as if time was dilating into a singularity. But I wished it would... if we were to reach that singularity where all gravity falls apart, perhaps we would be lost into each other. It sounds terrifying....it sounds terrific. It almost felt like I was falling asleep as he leaned towards me. I could see his smile, 

My heart was beating so loudly. I had to press my palms on my chest to make it stop somehow. I could grab it and lock it. And then, I would be assured that he could never reach it.

Suddenly, I heard Femke. Casper sat before us and began greeting everyone else. Femke stood behind us, "We need to make some space for me," Femke pressed her hands on her hips.
"I'll get up. Take my seat," Maximus just got up. He looked annoyed.
"Oh no, don't go,"

"Just feel like smoking," He took his lighter out of his pocket, "I shouldn't take too long,"

But he took his sweet time. The moment Femke came, she started talking in Dutch. Everyone then was talking in Dutch. And I felt left out. I sat quietly for a while, "I'll use the bathroom," I got up and went towards the door. When it closed behind me, the music was softer and I could see the streetlights slowly light up. We had stayed here for a while. I saw Max stand near a street light and smoke while looking at the traffic far away on the highway. He looked lonely.

"Max," I walked towards him.
"Oh, hey," He threw his cigarette on the road and crushed it under his shoe, "Sorry, I think I took too long," He bent forward to pick up the cigarette butt and pushed it inside a dustbin. 

"Are you sure you are okay?" I asked.
"No. They are playing all those love songs. I hate them,"

"Why?"
"They all are always talking about the same stuff,"

"I think your fervent faith in your way of seeing things has blinded you to the wish of people."
"Yeah. People like you who want to retain what they most cherish in their everyday lives."

We quietly listened to an old song playing on the tape recorder inside the bar.
"My grandma used to listen to it. It's from the Second World War," Maximus told me.
"She probably thought of your grandpa when he was away,"

"She did,"

"Isn't it weird how humanity has always been obsessed with love songs, no matter of what era or what genre?"
"We are so enchanted even with the thought of love, yet one can just desperately grasp it before it flies away,"

"True love won't fly away like sand. No matter how far it is...It would always come back to you like waves. And waves are not grasped...They are felt,"

-To be continued.