The Day I Fall In Love

The Meet Up

Day 1. June 15, 2017.

"I made it." I told myself upon exiting the plane. I made it past several counters before exiting the airport. The difference in people's tone is very notable. Where I speak a remarkable British accent, Americans speak very different.

The faces quite look different too. The nose, eye color, skin tone and everything. They are different to what I grew up with.

Even the climate is different. Everything is just so different and for a moment, I thought of going back home. My plane ticket is a two way one and I can go back home if I wanted within a month of misery.

"I need to look for a cheap apartment first." It's getting dark and the least thing I want is getting robbed in a chilly Manhattan street.

On the right side is a food stall, I badly want to try a dish but wits told me other thing. What I need is a place to live in first. I could worry about food later. I decided to ask an old lady selling flowers in the street, but before I could, her mini shop is busted.

"Oh my, the flowers!" I picked them up the fastest I could, but realized it was naught to do so. They are destroyed. Instinctively, my eyes scanned the area to search for the bastards who destroyed someone's business.

"Hey! Why did you do that?" I yelled at a man, who by the looks, looks like someone who could break a bone – and who would. The man with a ring on the nose and the lips smiled roguishly and cracked the bones in his knuckled fingers. 'Oh my.'

"You got a prob miss?" I saw the granny shook her head as if warning me. The barbecue selling man crossed his hand in his neck signaling that I would be dead – and I really am. T.T

Instantly, I cowered. I laughed sheepishly. "No! No! Was just asking and I thought of getting friendly." I was damn nervous and if there is anyway I could get out of this predicament, I would grab any chance.

"First time in Manhattan street. All the way from UK. Im Lu-" Im Lucy and instead of getting robbed, Im getting knocked out!

I managed to dodge the punch and shielded myself behind a man strolling casually on the street. So instead of getting punched myself, the man got punched and I could hear his glasses breaking in the process.

There is no time for me to care about sunglasses, I escaped. "Sorry buddy. I need to go!" I shouted while leaving and the last thing I could hear is my victim shouting and yelling for me to come back.

I did manage to get myself out of the deadly situation but what's more deadly than roaming the street penniless?

I forgot my luggage in the street and probably, if I decide to get it back, it would be empty. What a day. The street is so cold and it suddenly went raining.

"This is too much for day one." I sighed and immediately run to a nearby building. The building has glass walls so I could see a man in violet suit playing the piano while singing. His suit compliments his pink hair. I giggled at the thought forming in my head. The pianist looks like a sassy punk. "Ugly."

And it is weird that he is wearing a large shades while performing. It is night, for Mozart's sake. Why is he even wearing one?!

The rain did not last long, but it is still cold outside. I became a beggar in the street on my first day in America. I now regret not buying food a while ago. Now, my stomach is grumbling.

"I heard it."

She looked back with wide eyes.

"You!"

"Me? Oh look what we have here. A British."

I held my stomach, ashamed that the pianist guy heard it grumbling.

"When did you come here?" I walked pretty fast away from the building and I am not mistaken. The last time I seen this guy, he is playing the piano.

"I'm a pretty fast walker if I need to. Could you not speak in a rising tone?" He asked in what seemed like an annoyed tone. In the process, he adjusted his glasses. Beneath those glasses, I can feel his scrutinizing stare.

"Im British, can not expect me to adapt your accent in an hour!" I, Lucy Heartfilia, accuses the man of obvious discrimination.

"Well Missy, you are in America. The least you could do for America is speak her way."

He is too suggestive. The nerve!

"If you visit the Philippines, will you speak Filipino?" I shot back, standing proud with arms folded on my chest. With his furrowed eyebrows, I believe I won the argument. But no.

"No. Why would I? I don't know how to speak it."

"If you visit Russia and happened to talk to someone who speaks English but with a Russian tone, would you speak the same way?"

"No."

"That's it. Why would I copy your accent when my accent is much nicer to hear than yours?" I jabbed him in the chest and he caught my hand. 'Such warmth. I am in need of those warmth.'

"What's so nice in an overly raised tone everytime you speak? Arrogance is all I could hear." He smiled in an obviously annoyed and fake one. I have no idea how he did that.

"Im surprised hearing a sentence with beautiful rhythm from you." He looked past me and worry was suddenly written on his face. Before I could look back, I found myself running once again, but with him.

"Hey, what's with you!" I asked, trying to escape from his grip. But I really need the warmth he is emanating so I am confused whether to escape or just let him hold me. Plus, it sounds bad going with someone I don't know in an unknown place. For all I know, he could be a secret pervert.

"There's a paparazzi! Shut it!" He commanded in a whisper.

"Are you a celebrity?"

"I said shut it." So I shut it.

We ended up in a grassy place and the sky is so dark it started to worry me. I snatched my hand back. "You're not a rapist, aren't you? A criminal that has been on the run weeks ago? A hunted killer perhaps?"

He looked at me bewildered and then started to laugh. I punched him and he stopped.

"Surely you saw me singing back there!" I suddenly remember the big shades.

"Oh I see." But realization hit me. "So you were looking at me!"

"Only because you did this to me." He took off his dark round glasses and cap and showed me a purple bruise in his eye. I touched it gently and cooed. "Oh my, what happened?" I am sure this is our first time meeting but I cannot help but sympathize with his right eye.

He spat my hand away and made an expression of disbelief. I was dumbfounded. He could only stare back at me, as if I am an impossible person. He lifted his hands and made a squeezing gesture, suggesting he wants to squeeze me in annoyance.

He combed his hair and huffed. He turned his back on me and breathe hard. I heard it. "You asked me what happened?" He shouted whispered when he was again looking at me. I nodded, maybe I did it too cutely because his face has gone red. Or it could be because I made him mad.

"Well here is the thing, blondie." I was offended. I looked at my hair and thought what's wrong with natural blonde than a pink one.

"I have a concert here in Manhattan and I had one before that and even before that and I just wanted to have a good stroll in the streets with my perfect disguise but I happened to walk in a street where a girl pushed me to get punched in the face and that girl run away so I have to deal everything on my own and I am an artist!" He said continuously which made me amazed.

"You're like a rapper! I like that!" I was amused.

"And as if you're not satisfied in making my day awful, you called my music ugly!"

"When did I?"

"When you did."

We were forehead to forehead and as if that made a magic in making me recall some things. I pulled back.

"I was talking about your appearance, not your music."

I felt the need to sit and so I sat on the grass. I am very tired from running. I haven't had any meal and I am still recovering from jet lag. It is not like I went to this place without any hotel reservations. It's just when I got there, they said they had given my reservation to somebody else because I was late.

"Im ugly?" He sounded hurt, I feel sorry about it.

"You said it, not me."

"And I was talking about the big square shades while performing some piano music at night." I made sure to emphasize the word shades at night.

"It's because you did it to my eyes." He pointed to his eyes.

"The man did." I answered defensively.

"Okay okay." He sighed in defeat.

"The man did but it was only because-"

"I have no money so I don't have anything to give you. I left my bag back there." He stands up.

"Oh, is that so. Okay. I'm Natsu by the way." He said and started walking away.

'Bastard.' I thought. In the end, he just wanted to get back for what happened. He wanted money. But I have none.

Well it is my fault anyway. But hearing how I am penniless and such, how could he turn a blind eye at me? I am still a foreign woman, a tourist, although I did not go here for sightseeing. But a tiny, a very tiny part of me, hoped he would help me. Even one dollar will do.

I sensed he has already gone far. It is very embarrassing that I caused trouble for someone, and an artist too. The tears I was holding back was already peeking down my eyelids. How should I say it? It's scary. Being alone in an unknown place sure is scary.

"Now I am an American beggar." I sighed.

"HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I looked back. I cannot believe he is still there. I thought he is a fast walker. "What?" I managed to yell.

"Your luggage is in my house. You might as well go get it."

I blinked my tears away. "What?"

_Natsu_

Here is the side of my story. The weather is good, I am in good shape despite of my busy schedule. I mastered a perfect disguise so I can casually walk down the street. I am done practicing for my first piano concert because I rarely do play in my concerts, I just sing. My voice itself is worth gold. What could possibly go wrong with my day?

I have this positive outlook for the day, only to be ruined by this Lucy Heartfilia as her passport says. Why get in a trouble she could not escape? My manager gave me a good scolding for the bruise she caused me.

I have this urge to look for her, however, I did not know that by looking for her, I would also be looking after her.

For the past twenty minutes since she stepped in my apartment, she has broken one vase and two teacups. She has taken a bath and for a moment I was worried she might break the shower. Fortunately, no casualties after that. I realized those things happened because her hand was shivering from the cold.

I noticed the snow and for a person like me, I really don't like the snow. They make my fingers stiff and my voice sound unusual. I hummed immediately to test my voice.

"Ugly."

I stopped immediately after hearing the snide comment. "Are you my friend to call me ugly?"

"I did not call you ugly. It's your voice. I cant believe you were singing back there." She really is something. How many times has she told me ugly? Just because I have a natural pink hair does not mean I am ugly, does it?

"Well, I am. I bet it's uglier to see you shivering outside." And just because she dyed her hair blonde does not mean she has become beautiful. Although she has pretty face. Whatever.

"Yeah, right." She went silent after that.

"Thank you for letting me in tonight. I find it nice that you are so kind." She smiled at me. To me. I think I blushed.

Chapter 1 done.

Hi. I was thinking of making a short story, maybe with 5-7 chapters. Kindly give it a shot and I hope you will like it. Thank you thank you thank you thank you!

Tcare.

~Aia D.