𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓⁰²ʰᵉᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍˢ

18 the moths

asari
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"Please write down your name and pronouns in the blank space," The girl behind the desk muttered, screwing her eyes at me for a moment as though seeing something suspicious about me. "You're Ase, right?" She asked before I had the second to press my pen onto the paper.

I nodded, laughing awkwardly as wrote down my name and pronouns as she'd instructed.

"Hah, cool, I remember you. Welcome back," She sent me a warm smile and opened her hand so I could return the pen.

"Hey, Mike," Calum whisper-shouted, gently tugging on Mike's jacket sleeve. Mike turned. "Can you show us around later? Like, around here, I mean,"

I wasn't opposed to the idea, quite excited, in fact. I wanted to know more about the place just as much as any other new attendee.

The RDSO church was just as I remembered, though less cold, and the garden outside seemed to be more in bloom with all the various colour the summer flowers had to offer. And with this much beauty and welcome attitude, I still wondered why they hadn't chosen any location nearer the city, that way people would find it themselves instead of having to be brought in by people already in the organisation.

But perhaps they liked the sand or just the solitude.

The ride from my and Calum's apartment to the church was nothing but filled with Mike's rants about how he's been trying to pitch in the idea of bringing in baked goods, bragging about how he was better at it than anyone he knew.

Calum and I listened patiently without much input. Calum wasn't interested in baking, I'd guessed, and I simply had other things in my mind besides baked goods.

When we arrived, something about the sight of everyone making their way to the church warmed my heart. Oddly, it reminded me of moths drawing into a source of light.

It was busier than Wednesday, considering that all of the groups had meeting around the same 4 timings.

Everyone looked so bright with their overjoyed conversations, flushed summer smiles, arm in arm as though they weren't once strangers.

Whatever RDSO was doing, they seemed to be doing it right.

As I stood right by Mike, making conversation with someone I hadn't seen before, I looked around, silently - once sgain - admiring how everyone was caught in something. A conversation, some business with a clipboard and a pen, reading the timing board, or simply standing by and looking at me.

My eyes widened, aligning with a familiar pair of steel blue eyes. There he stood, slanted against the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest.

He looked extra rockstarish with his hair more out together, as though he'd slathered some product on it to keep it down. To add on, he wore a loose shirt in red, almost akin to his car which I hadn't seen when I was walking through the parking.

It was just as he said, it looked good on him, and I hated that he wasn't lying. I stared at how it so casually hung over his shoulders, broad and tilted, the first few buttons unbuttoned to reveal his uppear chest. This didn't feel like what your group therapist should be wearing but I wasn't one to object.

Fastened around his neck was a thin chain necklace, truly tempting someone - not me - to look st that area of his chest, with the unbuttoned shirt to pair with.

Someone had been standing in front of him, deep in hand-illustrated conversation, but he was nowhere to be found in the realm of paying attention. I wondered if they noticed just how un-therapy-est Luke looked. At least I wouldn't have looked at someone dressed as so and think yes, perfect, just like a therapist would do!