Devin can't sleep. A vague fear keeps infiltrating his system, making him apprehensive about the upcoming day. He's not sure what exactly he's afraid of, but he definitely doesn't like being at the behest of this emotion. Devin Jameston hates feeling scared.

After another session of tossing and turning in his bed, Devin exasperatedly sits up, irritably staring at the curtains undulating in the gentle night breeze. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he checks the time on it. It's quarter past three in the morning; Cerise must be asleep. Briefly deliberating on calling her up to cancel tomorrow's plan, he finally decides against it. This was bound to happen sooner or later, and it's better to get this done and over with sooner than later. Replacing his phone on the nightstand, he lies back down with one hand underneath his head and the other laid across his stomach.

In spite of repeatedly asserting to himself that there is no use of worrying so much about his meeting with Cerise Miller, Devin ends up doing exactly that instead of making up for his perpetual sleep-depravity. Never has anyone ever gotten him as riled up as this girl - this girl with large, dark eyes, and long, ebony tresses, and mocha, gold skin, and a demeanor so sweet and shy...

As the first rays of sunlight kiss the earth, Devin gives up on trying to woo Lady Slumber, and leaves his bed to start the day early. Thirty minutes later, he is showered, dressed, and ready to go to work, despite the exhaustion that weighs his body down. He heads to the kitchen, without so much as blinking an eye as he casually steps over the man sprawled a little way from his bedroom door - his drunk as fuck father. Last night had required a little bit of physical force when that man barged into Devin's room asking for a fight. He'd been promptly punched in the face, passing out and collapsing right then and there.

Fixing himself a sandwich, which is consumed in three big bites, Devin takes his canteen from the fridge, taking a sip of its contents as he gets into the broken-down pick-up and rumbles along the slum-like neighborhood of Jeffersonville. Five minutes later, the landscape changes into a better kept conurbation, and after another ten minutes, he has entered Market Square. Parking his ride, he walks the last lap to The Brewery, which is only just opening.

"Good mornin', son," greets the middle-aged man struggling with the shutter of the cafe.

"Morning, Nick," Devin says, stopping beside his employer. "Need any help with that?"

"Yes!" Nick stops and steps back. "Please. Thing's drivin' me crazy."

Devin gives the shutter a firm jangle, then pulls it up hard. The metal rolls upwards with a thunderous clamor. He glances at Nick. "There's a way to it, you know."

Nick nods, impressed. "Well, I know now."

The two males go inside, where Devin is welcomed by Nick's pudgy, ever-exuberant wife Mallory. "Hiya, kiddo."

"Hey, Mallory."

"Ready to grab another day by the horns?"

Devin groans. "Not really."

Mallory pouts, patting his back. "Oh, don't be like that. Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it in my bones!"

Devin's bones tell him otherwise. Sighing, he chooses not to answer to that, and instead ties the customary apron around his waist - dark green, with The Brewery embroidered in gold. Time to 'grab another day by the horns' now...

The day goes by without any 'grabbing' required, and dot on ten-thirty, Devin asks Mallory for the rest of the day off, which she immediately agrees to. Hanging his apron back on its designated hook by the back door of The Brewery's kitchen, he hurries to his truck and revs up its old engine, pulling out of the parking lot to speed to Thomas Beach. He drives fast, lest his fear succeed in pulling him back and having him bail on Cerise.

When he reaches, he parks next to the curb and scans the half-moon stretch of a beach, eyes sharp for the slim girl with the longest hair he's ever seen. Thankfully, Thomas Beach doesn't cover much area, hence making it easy for him to scout its expanse from his seat itself. When it's a little past eleven and Cerise still hasn't shown up, hope whispers to him that perhaps she has bailed.

Just then, a familiar figure walks right past Devin's pick-up, crosses the raised divider onto the beach, and begins trekking down to the waterside, a singular, lengthy braid going pendulum with each step. Cerise has come.

Alright, Devin, he tells himself, she knighted you... so that counts for something.

All his life, Devin has never cared for how people judged him. But now, he realizes that the agitation he's been plagued with all day is the fear of being judged by Cerise. She is the only other human, besides his late mother, who means something to him, and he doesn't want her to lose this meaning he holds for her. With a painful snap, he comes to the understanding that he has developed a very, very soft spot for the girl... a weakness, in his opinion. He normally loathes weaknesses, but this one... this one is worth having. He doesn't know why.

As he goes closer to Cerise, who is now standing with her back to him, body turned towards the sea, his resolve strengthens - he will speak with her, he will fight hell to keep their friendship intact, he will not lose her. Stopping a small distance away from her, he swallows the knot in his throat, and says, "hey, Cherry..."

***

The day is going well, almost too well as per Cerise's standards. Christian left early in the morning for a major case in New York, which means he will not be returning anytime soon. Jennifer had gone with him to the airport, and then taken to her boutique thereafter, leaving Cerise alone in the big, empty house.

She starts the day by brushing her teeth as she strolls around the garden, admiring the new batch of hybrid roses that Santos, their gardener, brought in last evening. Then, she takes a long, languid shower - something she never gets to indulge in with Jennifer constantly screaming for one chore or the other. Currently, Cerise lists against the kitchen island, making herself a big Buddha Bowl for breakfast, relishing this short, peaceful span in her life. She wishes for some way to make time pass slowly, so that this almost heavenly moment lasts longer. But alas, time and tide wait for none.

With her hands busy slicing a kiwi into discs for her Buddha Bowl, her mind drifts to what's to come - her meeting with her faceless, nameless friend. Well, nameless, except for 'Cigarette'. She'll finally meet him today, have a tangible form for her one and only friend in the world right now.

Of course, she also fears that Cigarette might turn out to be one of her many bullies, and this meet might be revealed as the finale of this grand prank. Yet, she is determined to unravel the mystery of Cigarette, and is ready to face whatever the consequences of it may be - believing it'll come as a lesson for her to not get too attached to strangers.

Besides, it's better to get this done and over with as soon as possible. The sooner, the better; because she's afraid her feelings for Cigarette may turn into something else, something stronger and more profound, with time. Cerise simply cannot let that happen.

By ten, Cerise has finished her breakfast and begun getting ready for the big moment of revelation. Her hair consumes most of her time - the brushing and braiding of their lengths done as meticulously as a geometric calculation. After that, Cerise picks out her outfit - a gray polo shirt and dark-blue jeans. She has never been one for make-up, for she finds it absolutely pointless to paint her face with chemicals, however, now as she checks her reflection in the mirror, her face feels strangely empty. Unfortunately having no make-up products to her name, she ends up with only her cranberry flavored lip balm, which taints her moue a warm, rubicund shade.

As it turns out, Cerise's momentary make-up conundrum has taken quite the time to get over, and her phone warns that it's already eleven. Since Christian hadn't bothered with giving his only daughter a car of her own, Cerise travels everywhere by foot. Thankfully, Thomas Beach isn't far from her house, only two lanes over, and she makes it there in under ten minutes. Still, she is worried that he may already have left because she delayed.

As she crosses the divider into the beach, her eyes scan the curving stretch of land while her sneakered feet trudge a path down the damp sand to where the water torpidly laps at the shore. Thomas Beach, being the smallest of the three sand and surf places in Jeffersonville, attracts little to no attention and hence, is almost always empty. This privacy counts as an advantage for Cerise; less audience to witness her humiliation.

Indeed, Cerise still expects the worst to happen - just to stay prepared - so that when all this turns out to be a 'final year of high school' joke or something, it will not hurt her as much.

Hopefully waiting, Cerise watches the sea as it gracefully swells and falls with waves - waves that glissade unto shore with zephyr whispers meant only for the earth's ears. The salty, heavy sea wind frolics with her hair, pulling a few strands free and whisking them around her face. It's a beautiful day...

"Hey, Cherry..."

The tentative sound of her nickname has Cerise exhale slowly, letting out a weighty breath that had been occupying her lungs ever since Cigarette agreed to meet her - it is finally happening. A lightheaded happiness, a trepidation prickling under her skin, an urge to just not turn around and see who it is - all battle for dominance within her. Her soul blooms with elation, but her mind warns her not get too happy about this. With her heart and brain viciously warring, Cerise finally turns around to face Cigarette.

She gasps. The sight of the person has her stomach drop like dead weight, her skin tingles unpleasantly. Somehow, she stammers out one word, a name, "D--Devin..."

***