"Can I get a single room, please?"

The motel looks somewhat classy from the inside. Maybe it's the crimson red carpet covering the floor, and the gold-plated border of the receptionist's desk. There is a red telephone at one corner of the desk, and a black violin case lying on the other. Curious.

The old man behind the counter has a stark resemblance to the old woman behind the counter at the movie theater. I wonder if they are related. The man nods, looks for something behind the table, then fishes out a key. A keyring with the number 208 is attached to it. I take the key from him, and wait a bit for him to say something. He doesn't, so I awkwardly leave, July following me. As I'm going up the stairs, I see him grab the violin case.

-----------------------------

The room is incredibly small.

There is literally nothing but a single bed with peach-coloured sheets, a bedside table, a curtain-less window overlooking to the forest behind the motel, and an attached bathroom. What's worse, the window isn't beside the bed like it is in my room, and the room I was staying in back at the Emmens. The window is against the wall adjacent to the bed. And what's even worse: the room kind of stinks. God knows what the smell is.

"You should be glad you can't smell, July," I say as I put down my bag. I wait for his response as I bring out the beeswax candle and place it on the bed's header. But no response comes.

I look behind me, and find July at the window, absentminded. Once in a while, the leaves and branches swaying in the wind slap against the window glass covered in raindrops, making July blink faster.

I decide to leave him be. He has a lot to think about, and I'm way too exhausted after such a long day. After freshening up within a minute (the bathroom is smaller than the one at Edgar's house, but there is a bathtub), I plop down on the creaking bed, set an alarm on my phone, and immediately fall asleep.

------------------------------

I blink my eyes open, finding Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex softly playing beside my ear.

I reach for my phone under the pillow and turn off the alarm. From now on, I don't want to waste time sleeping, so I set the alarm for 8AM. My eyes are stinging and my head is still heavy from the 4-hour sleep, but I still drag my body to a sitting position.

I look beside me. It's empty.

Then I look around the room, finding it as empty as the bed. A dull pain erupts somewhere deep within my chest. For the past few days, I've been going to sleep with July beside me, and waking up with him gone. It's almost like he is doing this deliberately, as if he wants me to get used to this inevitable feat of my near-future life.

The window is now open, so the smell has dissipated a bit. I get off the bed and head off to the bathroom, the door of which is half open. I peak in. July's clothes are on the ground in front of the small bathtub. The curtains pulled to the side, I can see him inside the tub, the water reaching a little below his shoulders. I feel an inexplicable emotion rising within me at the sight, but I'm too scared to explore it.

He has his chin on his palm, eyes unfocused, lost in thought. The sunrays pouring in from the tiny window over the bathtub barely manages to illuminate him; he sits in the shadow.

I call, "July."

He snaps out of his thoughts with a jolt of his brows and looks at me. "Oh, Cedar." He looks away, and sinks in deeper until the water is touching his chin. "You're awake. I thought you would turn off the alarm and go back to sleep."

His voice is low, but I can hear it well because the bathroom is too small. I get in and close the door behind me. He glances at me once before moving his eyes to the water. Then he pulls his knees closer and wraps his arms around them.

As I'm walking over to him, he lets out a dry laugh before saying, "This tub is too small, see? Like half of yours. I have to fold my legs, and it's still quite narrow."

I sit down in front of the tub. He still doesn't look at me.

"Is there something bothering you?" I ask, putting my hand on the side of the tub. My ears are burning for some reason.

"No," he whispers, eyes still on the water.

"Is it about last night?"

He closes his eyes and leans the back of his head against the wall, face upwards. My eyes habitually moves to his Adam's Apple, which I've always had a thing for. I feel my face growing warmer.

"Tell me, July," I say, composing myself.

He slowly shakes his head. "I don't believe for a second . . . that you don't see me differently now. That you've really forgiven me."

I hug my knees to my chest, mirroring his pose. "I've told you this before. I don't have the authority to forgive you in this scenario. All I can do is accept you despite your mistakes. And what you did was truly a mistake, there was not an ounce of ill intention within it."

I thought a lot more about this after lying down last night, or should I say, a few hours back. It's true, what he did was terribly wrong. If I was in Moon's place, perhaps I would never be able to forgive him. In fact, I would probably hate him more than those people who physically harmed me. Because it was emotional. Because I trusted him. In that sense, I can put myself in Moon's shoes to an extent. But I can never know how it feels to be violated again and again and not being able to do anything about it. So the damage must have been a lot more severe for her. I can only imagine, but even the imagination cannot come even closer to what she truly went through.

And there's also an important point to take note of: he didn't touch her inappropriately. He didn't force her to have sex with him out of anger. He impulsively pushed her down and scared her. But to her, it might have seemed like an attempted harassment.

But I don't want to tell July any of that. What's the point of it? There's roughly six days left until he's gone, forever. What's the point of drowning him in even more misery than what he has suffered his whole life, for the short time he has left on this earth? He knows what he did was wrong, and he hasn't let himself be happy all this time because of that. I'm not the one who is supposed to punish him. And whether I accept him or not, at this point, makes no difference. It's all pointless.

And since it's pointless anyway, I might as well let it be pointless with positivity.

I say, "This really made me realize something. That human beings, their characters, and even the scale of morality . . . none of it is ever black and white, is it? It's all gray, and even within the gray, there are countless shades present. No one is truly good, no one is truly bad. If God wanted everything to be black and white, He wouldn't have created all those colours, would He? But still, I firmly believe," I meet his eyes, "that some people deserve forgiveness, while some don't."

A silence lingers for a long time, his eyes stuck at the ceiling. When he finally brings his gaze down, he says, "I was so sure you would hate me when you found out, that I didn't even think of what I would do if you didn't."

I rest my chin on the side of the tub and move my fingers through the cold water. "I'm not an irrational person, July. If my sense of judgement said you don't deserve forgiveness nor acceptance, then things would have been different for sure. The rest of the judgement, I suppose, it will come from above."

He remains quiet for a while more, then rubs his face with his hands. "I'm glad I told you this, Cedar. It's a weight off my chest. I will never be able to forgive myself like you want me to, but it's good to know someone is willing to accept me still." A pause. "I wanted to tell you this long ago, as soon as I understood that you were developing feelings for me. I thought this would've been enough to put a stop on that. But I couldn't say it. I was worried whether it would effect the wish, but deep inside, I couldn't tolerate the idea of you hating me. Of you being disgusted by me."

That sounds like something he would think. I move a strand of hair behind his ear. "Is there more you haven't told me?"

He ponders over it. "Well . . . things were hard after Moon's death. My brain was all scattered, and I started thinking all kinds of weird things. At some point, I, um, I started sleeping around."

I raise a brow. I did know he's done it, but I didn't imagine it was 'sleeping around'.

He explains, "I guess I somehow convinced myself, that since I couldn't treat Moon right, maybe if I am gentle and careful with others, maybe I'll be able to rid myself of some of the guilt. I couldn't, though. I kept seeing her face everywhere. My hands would shake, and my partners would ask me if I'm okay. Some of them were patient, some weren't. After a while, it just became more of a way to distract myself." He shakes his head. "I was such a mess at that time, Cedar. I'm glad you never had to see that part of me."

"I think . . . I would want to see your ugly parts too. Everyone is made of the good and the bad. To know someone fully, I need to see both."

"I guess that's true. Maybe if we had more time . . ." He trails away.

I change the topic. "So, anything else left?"

He shrugs. "There truly isn't anything more. Unless you want to know my favorite colour?"

My face breaks into a smile. "God, you still remember that?"

He twists his face and begins to mimic me, "Why would I ask your favourite colour? You're not my boyfriend."

I smack his shoulder as we both laugh. "Stop it," I say in between laughs.

"How the tables have turned."

I nod. "And do you remember, the day after we first met, when you were like this in my bathtub? And when I came in and was brushing my teeth you were like, I'm naked here, pervert!"

He covers his face and leans against the wall. "I'm so fucking funny, I swear. Ah . . ." He wipes the tears from his eyes, while I continue to giggle at the memory.

Back then, all I had felt was a mix of shock and confusion. But looking back it now, it's a beautiful memory, one that will make me laugh several years into the future.

After stopping, he says, "Ah, it's really crazy, isn't it? Me . . . and you . . . us. Who would have thought? We don't even belong to the same world anymore. We are talking about something that happened a month ago like something that happened years back. Because the time I've spent with you was so meaningful, I couldn't have experienced it even if I lived many more years. It's really crazy, when you think about it."

I slowly nod. "Maybe this is what they call fate."

He smiles. "Maybe." We stay silent for a moment, before he suddenly asks, "Did you even notice that I'm quite literally naked right now?"

I raise my brows. "Of course." I point at his clothes on the ground.

He hugs himself. "And that doesn't like . . . make you feel anything?"

It does, but I really can't tell him that. Instead, I squint at him and question back, "Why, are you nervous?"

"Shuddup."

"Should I come in?" I point to the tub with my chin.

"Shuddup! Get out, right now." He points to the door.

"Okay, fine. How come you're not a pervert anymore?" I stand up while shaking my head. I step over his clothes, but then stop and look down at them. The gray sweatshirt, the black sweatpants. The only thing July's ever worn.

"What?" he asks.

"You've been wearing this for ages now."

"Yeah, trust me, if I could wear anything else I would."

"Well, you can now. No one else can see you when we're in our room."

"So what, you're gonna go buy clothes for me now?"

I smile at him.

"Okay, I don't like that smile at all. Like at all."

I pick his clothes up. "Wanna wear mine?"

.........................

"July, you're wearing a shirt, not a bikini with Hello Kitty themed hot pink boots or something."

He squirms away from me, scowling. "I would rather wear that."

"But why?" I cross my arms on my chest. "These look way better than your ugly sweatshirt."

"Ah yes, I definitely spent thirty minutes picking out the perfect outfit to die in from my closet."

". . ."

"I'm joking!"

"Okay, so what exactly is the problem over here? If you don't want to wear it, then take it off." I grab his collar.

"Wait no!" He pulls it free. "I didn't say I don't want to wear it . . ."

"Then?!"

"It's just that . . . these are your clothes . . . and you . . . eughhhh." He turns around, rushes to the bed, then begins to hop on it with his eyes closed.

"Yeah, no one could ever tell you're the non-virgin between us." I roll my eyes.

"Hey! That sounds so insulting!"

"Amazing, it was meant to insult you." Then, something hits me. "Speaking of-"

"Stop."

"I didn't even say anything."

"I know exactly what you're gonna ask."

Putting on a sarcastic tone so that he doesn't think I'm serious, I say, "Well, sometimes I get a bit curious about your ex-lovers."

"Ew, don't call them my lovers." He shakes his head.

"Then should I call them, your sexual frustration releasing partners?"

"It wasn't even about sexual frustration. It was just frustration in general. Besides, those girls had their own frustrations to release too."

"Wait, there weren't ever any guys?"

He lies down with his arms spread. "Of course they weren't guys, Cedar. I already had too much going on in my life, why would I take the risk of being arrested as well?"

"Hmm, makes sense." I lean against the window sill and watch him. "So . . . were they people you knew?"

"No, they weren't."

"So you met them for the first time and just . . . did it?"

He props himself up on his elbows, brows raised at me. "It's not as uncommon as you think, Cedar."

"I didn't mean that. It's just that . . . well, I suppose you're right. Yeah. It's probably super normal, huh?"

I turn around and face the window. The trees outside hang still, thin rays of sunlight falling over the vibrantly green leaves. There is a familiar tightness in my heart. I've felt this way many times before. It's a strange, undefined sense of alienation.

"Cedar, come on. Are you mad? You know those didn't mean anything. Like at all."

"No I'm not mad. I'm just wondering . . ." I turn back to the room again. "I find it extremely hard to comprehend. Not the fact that people have casual sex and one night stands, rather the fact that they can do it if they want. I can't even imagine feeling anything romantic, let alone sexual for someone I just met. Just the thought of doing it with them grosses me out."

"Ah, so that's how it is."

"Yeah. And there's also the fact that, I don't know, why would I show my body to someone I don't know? Isn't that such an intimate thing, that should only be reserved for people you have a deep relationship with? Because, you see-" I try to make gestures with my hands to explain. "-there is a limit of physical intimacy that only lovers can cross. Not even my family members who I've spent my whole life with can cross that limit. The way I see it, there is a special value to that for this exact reason. It's not like I'm judging you or anyone who does this, I just find it hard to comprehend, because I could never do it even if I genuinely want to." I rub the back of my neck. "Is it because my sex drive is too low . . ."

July sits up. "Cedar, sweetheart, you're thinking too much. There's nothing wrong or abnormal in having that kind of perspective. As I told you, I didn't sleep with those people because I was dying to have sex. Though there are those who do it because of that. For me, it was for distraction, mostly, but also because . . . well, sometimes you just crave someone's touch. Sometimes the craving gets so strong that you find it hard to care who the other person is. You feel like, just anyone will do, as long as I'm not lonely. And yet, when I was with those people, I felt my loneliness to be even deeper than when I'm alone. It's like that, you see? It's bittersweet."

"Hmm, I think I understand that." I nod, leaning against the window sill. "I understand why so many people do it. Humans are naturally filled with all this romantic and sexual desire. But for some reason, I'm not. I'll never be able to do it. Even more now . . . now that I've met you."

No reply comes, and I realize I've steered into a topic we have disagreements about. So I steer back to what I was saying earlier.

"And I'm okay with it. But sometimes, you know, it makes me feel a bit alienated from others. I've never truly had the desire to even date, let alone do things much beyond that. But growing up, everyone around me had been talking about nothing but these, boyfriends and girlfriends and crushes and porns and all that, and it made me wonder why they were so obsessed with these things, when there are bigger things to worry about in life. I suppose I get it now a little bit but still."

I let out a laugh. "You know, for a time in my life, I even wondered if there was something wrong with me. For like, not being interested in these. I forced myself to watch porn, even forced myself to, y'know, jerk off. It just never worked out. I wouldn't say watching those didn't arouse me to an extent, but I just didn't understand the need of all those? I would think, I can totally live my whole life without doing even half of what the people in the screen are. But that thought would make me sad, because I would feel like I'm gonna miss out on a lot more things than I already do now. You get what I mean?"

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

He gets off the bed and walks over to me, leaning against the window sill too.

"I wouldn't say I have felt the same way, but I get it, theoretically. And all I can say is that there are all types of people in this world, right? Like you said, there are so many colours in the world, so many shades. Some need sex, some don't. What's the big deal? It's like food, you know. Suppose you can't tolerate sweet foods, so when you see people enjoying it, would you feel like you're missing out? You won't. After all, you know you won't enjoy it the same way.

"In your case, you want to save it for a special person. So it's like, you'll only have sweet foods for special occasions. It's like that, right? I'd say it's totally normal. And not being obsessed with sex, not even needing sex, I'd say it saves you from a lot of hassle. Besides," he bumps into my shoulder, "it also means you are capable of using more meaningful, beautiful ways to express your love for someone."

I blush, looking away. "You always know the right things to say, don't you?"

"Maybe it's just luck. Besides, you do too, darling."

"I didn't, before. I couldn't say anything at all before. I guess it's all your influence."

"What an honor it is!" He laughs, and lets out a long groan. Then he spins his way to the center of the room. "Ugh, I feel so free today! Like I'm floating. Cloud nine and all that stuff. Let's not stay in this small, cramped room all day. Let's go out and see the world!" He says the last sentence with a dramatic tremor to this voice.

"You mean see Greenwoods?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. But let's gooooo."

"But where? The forests feel repetitive after a while. We need to do research on what nice places there are to visit here. Or I could ask Tiara."

"Yes, yes! But you're forgetting something, aren't you?"

"Hmm? What?"

"Why we even came to Greenwoods in the first place."

"Ah . . ." It finally clicks.

"Right, right."

I grin. "To meet my family."

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08-07-2022

Hello everyone :)

I went into a bit more details about Cedar's perspective on the whole Hale-Moon situation, because I wanted to be more clear on where Cedar stands. Hope it makes more sense now.

I also talked about Cedar's experience with sexuality, which is very similar to mine. It felt good to put it into words. Felt like I understand myself even better now.

Thanks a lot for reading. Please take care of yourselves!

— love, Poma