13 August, 2019

This world of ours is unbelievably small.

I got up from sleep super early according to the sound of the alarm. July wasn't too happy about it. He was planning to turn the alarm off using my finger, but I woke up as soon as it started ringing, thanks to my light sleep. He told me to go back to sleep but I didn't budge, and instead sat with him with a challenging look on my face. Eventually he gave up. Then we sat at the window and listened to the birds in silence. Even that, toe, is time not wasted.

When the clock finally struck 7, we went downstairs. This nameless motel also has a nameless diner, which is where the residents usually have their meals. The woman who came to give me the blanket last night told us that, otherwise we wouldn't know.

Anyways, long story short: after I ordered my breakfast—pancake for filling my stomach and a cup of cold coffee to fight the sweltering heat—I decided to continue reading Dawn's notes in Norwegian Wood. July was sitting across from me. More people were slowly pouring in to the place.

That's when, on the table right behind me, I heard a familiar voice order a plate of waffles and a glass of beer. Confused at the familiarity and surprised at the odd combination for breakfast, I turned around. And guess who was sitting there, neutral face turning into that of sheer surprise at my sight.

"Truly, what a coincidence." Autumn gives me an amused smile.

I am now sitting at Autumn's table, across from her, July sitting beside me, a guitar case sitting beside her. She is the same girl I met in the cafe the night before my exams started, and the girl I went into a sort of fling—can it even be called a fling? What was it anyway?—for a while. In a way, it was because of her that I first realized that I have feelings for July. Apparently, the person I saw at the staircase yesterday when I was going down to ask for a blanket was her. She is staying in a room on the third floor all by herself.

"A huge coincidence," I reply, feeling somewhat uncomfy at the whole situation. Who next? My dead grandmother
who I've never met might as well end up in Greenwoods now.

The plate of waffles along with beer she ordered has already arrived, but my pancake and coffee haven't. When I asked her why she is drinking alcohol so early in the morning, she said that there is no such thing as the right time to drink.

"Indeed! Our first meeting was too, but this one a lot more so. Oh! And you were reading this book that day too." She points at Norwegian Wood with her eyebrows. "I didn't notice back then, but there are loads of sticky notes inside."

"Yeah, you're right," I reply, unsure of what else to say. An awkward silence begins between us.

"I'm going back to the room," July says, standing up. I open my mouth to stop him, but hold myself back when Autumn shoots me a questioning look. I watch July leave the diner before sighing and turning back to her.

"Everything alright?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Listen . . . I'm sorry."

"Oh? For what?"

"For . . . I don't know, I'm not sure where things were leading. But I was neglectful towards you. Neglectful, that's the last thing I ever want to be towards someone. In a way, perhaps I even lead you on, and took advantage of you. I'm really sorry. I'm not used to things like this, so, I wasn't really sure how to deal with it."

"Wow, how can I ever be mad at someone so sincere?" She laughs. "It's fine, forget about it. I could tell you were inexperienced. And yes, if I'm being honest, I was embarrassed. At myself. And I was angry at you. I guess both of those ended up being more of a driving force for me."

"Driving force? How?"

"I started furiously looking for jobs searching for singers, and applied to just about anything I found. And surprisingly enough, I got a really good offer here in Greenwoods. At first I wanted to drop it since it's so far, but then I kind of just whimsically decided to come here. Since school is off for summer still. I'm sick of the city. I have too many failures there. Here, it was like a new beginning. Tiramisu Cafe. Quite famous. Every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. The pay is really good, and I sometimes get tips. I even got requests for birthday parties and weddings. People here are kind. So I guess I got something good out of that weird relationship we had!"

I scratch the back of my head. "I guess I'm glad to hear that?"

She laughs again. "Conflicting, isn't it? But I'll be honest. I really was interested in you. Something about you really drew me in. But it just wasn't meant to be, hmm?"

I nod. I can tell her interest in me has subsided, because there is no more forced smiles and laughs. "At that time, I already had feelings for someone else, but I was in denial."

"Awh, that's so sad. Are you still in denial?"

"No." I clear my throat. "Things have progressed, I suppose."

"I'm happy to hear that!" She takes a sip from the beer. "You're a nice guy. Quite mature for your age. You will always have people crowding around you. Don't worry."

People crowding around me? I wonder. My pancake and glass of cold coffee arrives. I wonder if July is mad. No, I don't think he is mad. I just think that these kinds of things remind him of the fact that after he is gone, there will, in fact, be people crowding around me. And I won't belong to him then. And no matter what he says, the thought is unbearable to him.

"Why did you come here, though? Did you come with your parents?" Autumn asks while chewing on the waffles. They seem to be delicious.

I shake my head. "I, um, ran away from home. And decided to come here on a trip."

"You ran away? Like, forever?"

"No, not forever. I'll go back soon. It's just, I guess, it was just a rebellion."

"Hmm. Why did you run away? Were you abused? Ah, I'm sorry if it's too personal."

Abuse. That word again. It's too strong of a word. And I can't seem to apply it to myself, or to my mother. But in a way, wasn't it really emotional abuse? I don't know. The thought makes me so sad.

Instead of replying to her, I ask, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Was your family ever against you being interested in music?"

"Hmm . . . I wouldn't say they were against it. They just thought it's a waste of time. And when I told them I want to study in music too, they just warily told me to do whatever I want. They thought I would eventually realize my mistake, drop out, and try again for a more practical subject. But I'm more stubborn than that!

"I'll admit it though: after I went to uni, I realized that what I thought were my talents are just average at best. There are bigger talents out there, and maybe I don't really stand a chance. I got rejected in more auditions than I can count. Judges point out the rasp in my voice when I raise the octave, the instability when I lower it. I worked hard to fix it, but even then, there were still lots of flaws left. So in the end, I just decided to give up on that. I decided to just do music in my own way, teaching myself and competing with myself."

She gulps down half of the beer at once, crinkling her nose a little afterwards. "That's not very easy either. But I'm content. I'm more at peace now that I don't have to prove myself to anyone. My parents have also realized my sincerity for my art, and they support me now. I'm the happiest when I am strumming my guitar and there is at least one person listening to me sing. A lot of failures burden me, but those failures are all worth it, because at least I failed doing something I love, you know?"

"Hmm."

"Sorry, I talked a lot, didn't I? Haven't really made any friends here, so I've been quite lonely."

"It's okay, I like it when someone else takes charge of the conversation, since I'm not too talkative."

"Haha, typical introvert. You know, there was-" At that time, her phone rings. She takes it out of her pocket, saying, "Give me a minute," as she stands up and leaves the diner.

Alone to myself, I think about what she just said. I've never thought that failure could be something worth it. Rather, it's always been a word that has scared me. Won't it be even worse if it's a failure on something I love?

But the I realize, that the mentality is all that matters here. Autumn has a strong mentality; she doesn't let her failures suppress her love. Moreover, she doesn't ask for much, her ambitions aren't over the top. Maybe that's why she is truly content, why she is brave enough to relentlessly pursue a path that is filled with obstacles, a path that is unpredictable.

If I choose to pursue Literature, I will have to own that kind of mindset too.

But should I truly choose it? My rational mind questions once again. Without a doubt, the decision would be based more on emotions than on logic. Grandpa has taught me how to apply logic to this emotion, and now I have more confidence on this. Yet, a tint of uncertainty remains.

I know, that there is no other path where I will feel contentment in myself, no other job I am willing to dedicate my whole life to. Just the thought of studying till my eyes fall out to get into a good engineering university, only to study more and more to keep a high CGPA, only to get into a job and work hard on something I don't even enjoy, every. single. day — the mere thought exhausts me like nothing else.

Though it's the reality for most, I won't be able to do it. There is no way I'll be able to. I'll end up breaking.

But if I wish to do what I want, I must be strong enough to be worthy of wanting it.

As my mind is occupied with thoughts of my future, I grab my glass of cold coffee and take a big sip. It tastes quite weird, so I frown and put it back down without looking. That's when I faintly hear a gasp beside me.

"Cedar!"

I snap out of my thoughts and find a distraught-looking Autumn standing in front of me, her eyes on the glass in my hand.

I look at it, and cover my mouth before I let out a louder gasp and draw attention.

It is not my glass of coffee. It is her glass of beer, which is what I grabbed in my daze. My coffee is on my left.

Autumn sits down, and looks around with wide eyes, slowly pulling the glass back towards her. "Shit shit shit, you're still underage, aren't you?"

"Um, does it help that I'm turning 18 in a few days?"

"I don't know." She lets out a troubled sigh. "How come you didn't even realize it's a beer?"

"I was lost in thought. No wonder it tasted so bad. How can you drink it?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe I just got used to it. Anyways, you don't feel tipsy or anything, right? You just had a sip so you shouldn't."

"Yeah I'm fine."

However, I soon realize that I am, in fact, not fine.

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

I twist the knob of my room but find it locked from the inside. Then I knock on the door. But July doesn't open. My mind feels all fuzzy, and my legs are wobbling. I blink repeatedly to keep my vision focused.

"Hey, July!" I call, and knock some more. Still finding no response, I bang it a few times. Getting frustrated, I was about to kick it when a pair of hands pull me away. I look back and it's July.

"God, Cedar, that's not your room!" he says, seemingly flabbergasted. He has a funny expression on his face, heh. "Were you seriously about to kick it? What- why do you look like that?"

"Julyyyy." I grin and try to pull him into a hug but he moves away.

"Woah woah woah hold on, wait a sec. Are you drunk? What in the wo- come in, quick!" He glances around once then grabs my hand and pulls me in to the next room, shutting the door afterwards.

Squinting hard, I walk around the room and try to compute the unfamiliar place. Hmm, this is not my room. But oh well, I suppose it doesn't really matter.

"Now can you please explain what's going on?" July asks.

I turn to him. He has a deep frown on his face. But he is as beautiful as ever. I start walking back to him.

"Did she force you to drink? What- how? Like I really don't understand? Wasn't it literally just beer? How much did you dri- wait, eh? Cedar- what are you doing?! Ehhhh?"

Perhaps I wrapped my arms around his neck, and then my legs around his waist. Perhaps he lost balance and was about to fall down but managed to hold me tight. Perhaps he was saying a lot of gibberish that I couldn't process. But I can't be too sure about any of those.

After that, I remember nothing.

   --------------------

"You're lying," I say, laughing in disbelief.

I think I fell asleep soon after. It's been a few hours since, and I'm having a terrible headache. Did I seriously get hungover from a single sip of beer?

"No, I'm not!" July protests. "I swear, it's nothing like I've ever seen before. It was like a whole different side of yours! It was- it was like me."

"What are you even talking about?" I frown. Not even in my dreams will I ever act like July. "What exactly did I do?"

"I'm not even sure how to explain it. But you were awfully clingy! You had your whole body attached to me like a koala for like half an hour before you fell asleep. Half an hour! And when I tried to get you off me, you started crying."

"No way."

He gasps. "Is this your deepest, darkest desire? Darling, do you crave for cuddles?" He holds out his arms to me. "Come, I will cuddle you."

"Shut up!" Blood rushes to my face. "Those are such massive lies. It's not even funny."

"I'm not lying!" He lets out a frustrated groan. He moves his hand all around as he tries to explain. "And then, you were saying all sorts of cringy stuff to me. Things you would never say sober! I mean yeah, that's the point of being drunk. But everything felt so out of character, it was like there was a glitch in the simulation."

"Yeah, I still choose to not believe you." I rub my temple. "Ugh, the headache is too much."

"Do you think you might have broken a world record for the lowest alcohol tolerance?"

"Shut up!"

"Come here, I'll massage your head." He pats on his lap. I lie down on my back and place my head on it. He begins to gently press my temples with the tip of his fingers, then rub in a circular motion. It doesn't reduce the headache but it distracts me from it, because it feels good.

I close my eyes. Did I seriously act like that in front of him? This is genuinely quite embarrassing. It's true, I do sometimes feel a craving for physical affection, but it's not something I can ask from other people, so I just ignore it. I've been ignoring it for a long time. I never imagined that it could get expressed in such a straightforward way when I'm drunk.

Good thing it was just July. If it was anyone else . . . God, no, I don't even want to think of that possibility.

As I'm lingering in such thoughts, I realize July has gone silent. I open my eyes and look up, finding him peering down at me, a tint of sadness in his gaze.

"What's wrong?" I ask, worried.

His hands move from my temples down to my cheeks, cupping them softly. "Will you promise me something?"

"Yes."

He looks away, biting his bottom lip. I can see his sharp jaw, a smooth curved line. Even though it's already happened so many times before, I still feel surprised every time July's mood changes abruptly.

Then he says, "Don't ever drink in front of others, okay? This side of yours . . . let me be the only one who has ever seen it."

The lump sitting in my throat for God knows how long announces itself again. Of course I won't let anyone else see it. Of course, he should be the only one. Isn't his whole existence visible to only me? I have seen so much of him, the good and the bad. But especially the good, which no one else saw. Surely, he should also feel the comfort of knowing that there will be parts of me only he will know.

There are so many things I want to show no one but him. If only.

I put my hand over his and reply, "I promise."

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27-07-2022

Hello my loves ☺️

It wasn't my intention originally to bring Autumn back in this book. But I did because I felt like I didn't really give her that much personality in the last book, like I didn't really put effort into crafting her character. So I wanted to go a bit deeper here, and I'll also rewrite some stuff from the last book about her. For some reason, I initially sucked at writing female characters (hence why I absolutely butchered Alex). But I think I've gotten better at it in this book, through characters like Tiara, aunt Sayra, Nova, and also Alison.

I wanted to write drunk Cedar in details, but I honestly don't know how drunk people are supposed to think like 💀

Next chapter will be the smallest chapter in this book, but also the most important. Thanks a lot for reading :)

— love, Poma