Aubade

ii. stranger.

I've been visiting my brother every day for two weeks now and I haven't seen that mystery man. Claira is with me as we wonder around the hospital. I told her over the phone two weeks ago and she's curious as well; however, I didn't say a word to my brother.

"Are you sure you saw him?" Claira asked ten times today. "I mean, we're in the hospital; it could be a ghost."

"It's not a ghost, Ira," I responded, uttering her nickname. "It's a real person, breathing."

"How can we find him then?" she asked, stopping her steps to catch her breath. "You only see his back and why the hell are you curious about this person?"

Her words stop me. She's right though; it's only his back I see and yet I wait every day to see him because, as weird as it sounds, I feel something, like a connection and a fine line waiting to be crossed over.

"He's tall," I answered her, sarcastically lacing my tone. "I want to know his secret."

"Your brother is a doctor, Xy," Claira pointed out. "You can ask him."

"Sleeping is not helping me, Ira."

"It seems to me that you have a crush on him, Xy."

Laughter escaped from my lips. "From his back?" I slightly pushed her shoulder, laughing. "You're hilarious, Ira."

"Yeah, I am." Claira laughed and our laughs were in sync now. We tend to laugh a lot, even at little things in life; we always find that bliss in this lifetime, and we won't know it will be our last laugh.

Claira already left an hour ago, while I stayed standing on the rooftop, letting the chilly air embrace me as the stars cascaded around the illuminating moon. It's peaceful in here, hence why I love staying here when I get bored at my brother's office. 

I brought my canvas in here in hopes of painting something with my canvas holder stands, which I normally leave in here. Today, I painted the view; it's a tranquil feeling; the lights from the hill; the skies; it was something I always love to paint—scenery.

"That's beautiful." A voice from a man stopped my tracks. All the years I've been here, I've never encountered someone coming up here. I gazed at him, and even with a dim light, I could see his tall figure walking towards me and when I saw him up close, I noticed his unruly black hair and brown eyes eyeing my painting as his glasses were slightly skewed.

"Thank you," I uttered, feeling my heart racing as he examined my canvas. I look down, trying to steady my breath. I don't know this man but why the hell am I feeling nervous around him? It's unusual for me to feel this way, especially around men.

"You're good," he praises as his brown eyes lock eyes with mine. "Do you paint a lot?"

"Yes," I answered him, gripping my brush as every conversation starter I read online vanished into thin air. "I've been painting since I was a kid."

"Impressive," he replied, yet he seemed cold and distant, like a moon but somehow I didn't mind it. I was merely in utter shock when he entered the rooftop and I didn't hear the door opening or any footsteps.

"I'm Xylia," I introduced myself, handing my hand. I almost pinch myself but I can't think of anything to say. He peered at my hand; his brows were furrowed and he seemed contemplating reaching out to my hand. I was about to withdraw it when he touched it.

"Enrique." His touch imprinted my skin, electricity rushing through my veins and when he withdraws his hand, it feels empty. "Can I call you, Lia?"

"Yeah, you can." My lips curled as I nodded. No one calls me Lia; it was always Xy or Xylia and sometimes my second name, as they have a hard time pronouncing my name. "Lia is fine."

His phone vibrated and he uttered an 'excuse me,' as he walked away from me, answering his call. His back faces me and my eyes widen when I remember what I saw two weeks ago: a man around my age holding a basket full of fruits around 6'3 is none other than Enrique.

He is the stranger, the mystery man I've been searching for in the hospital for almost two weeks, and I can't believe I met him. I can't wait to tell Claira about this.

"Hey, Lia." Enrique's voice snapped me back to reality. "It was nice to meet you but I have to go."

"Oh," I said, sounding disappointed. I was hoping to converse with him. "It was nice to meet you, Enrique. You take care, alright?"

"Yeah, I will. Thanks," he replied. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'll be here."

"Great," he uttered and I can sense he is getting nervous around me as he starts to toy around with his phone on his palm. "I'll see you tomorrow, hopefully?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Enrique," I assured him and I flashed a smile. We waved each other goodbye awkwardly but I couldn't help but feel my heart leaping from joy.