A Place to Return to

"Goodbye, goodbye, until the day we meet again
Goodbye for now, just for now
Goodbye, goodbye, we'll meet again
At the place you come back to, forever~"

~Kaeru Basho (A Place You Can Come Back to) by Aoyama Thelma ~

I can still vividly remember the day you walked in our shop, and in my life. It was on a sunny afternoon – our busiest time of the day when the influx of customers was just overwhelming. People were always coming and going after they had devoured the last piece of their cake and drank their coffee to its last drop. But the moment the sunlight streamed behind you when you opened the door, I knew you were already special.

You had a long flowing gray cardigan over your white tank top that swayed in time with your long strides. Your honey-blond hair cascaded like silk past your slender shoulders. You held a stern look, your eyes the color of the morning sky piercing right through me. You walked over to me, who was at the counter, and asked for a frappuccino. Strawberries and cream, you said. When I asked for your name so I could write it on the plastic cup, it was only then when I realized that I was holding my breath this whole time since the moment you entered. You said your name was Relena. To my surprise, you then smiled as I repeated your name like it was a name that belonged to royalty. From the way you look, we could have the same age.

When I called you to claim your drink, you presented your receipt and smiled – a contrast to the frown that you had displayed again as you sat to wait for your drink. There were several female customers who had the habit of smiling at me until their dimples sunk into their cheeks to its fullest. Yours was natural. I never thought you'd smile because of the proud countenance you exuded. You retreated to your seat as soon as you got your drink, and then brought out your iPad.

Another female customer came up to me and ordered. She was a brunette whose hair waved elegantly past her shoulders. She winked at me and told me I was the sexiest barista she had ever seen, which I dismissed and had me thinking that she was just saying that to get a discount. Come to think of it, almost all of the female customers tell me that. I wondered how good it will be if you were the one to tell me that instead. As I wrote her name, which was more fitting to be given to a male instead, I moved slightly to look past her shoulder to take a glimpse of you as your eyes smiled, if not your lips, at whatever it was that amused you on the Net. I was out of my reverie when I heard my current customer exclaim childishly that I spelled out her name wrong. It was unusual for me to do that since never in my five-year stint as a barista had I ever spelled a name wrong. But that did not surprise me as much as the fact that I had actually written her name even if I was so taken in looking at you.

The next day you came, you ordered the same drink and asked to not have whipped cream on your frap. You didn't have your iPad with you that day, but instead you brought a book which had your attention for two hours. Once in a while you would pause and gaze out of the glass window and door of the shop solemnly. Was that sadness in your eyes? And longing? You always had that look in you, I noticed.

People came in and out of the coffee shop, and you were still reading. You probably didn't even notice me mopping the floor by your table. At that time, you had a bewildered look on your face, as if the hero in the novel turned out to be ghost. I peeked at what you were reading – Jodi Picoult's Second Glance.I've read that book, as well. It was about a man named Ross Wakeman who ventured into ghost hunting when his fiancée died, in hopes of finding her at the other side. You were probably at the part where the hero had actually kissed a ghost. Was it possible to actually hold, even kiss something and someone whom you've just met but felt like you've known her all your life?

Strawberries. You smelled like strawberries. I inferred you might actually like them since they were also your frequent order. I snapped out of it when a female of our age called and approached you. I took that as my queue to leave unnoticed. I then looked away, was that a small smile on your face? I did not even have the time to look back at you again. Your friend followed your gaze and I instantly pretended that I had not seen and heard her whistle and blatantly called me handsome. I wish I could've stayed longer to hear if you agreed or not with her remark. I did not even bother to wonder at your response, just hearing your laughter was enough to drown the noise made by the other customers in the shop.

On the third day, you came again and ordered the same frap and sat at the same seat. You had that book with you again, and were almost close to finishing it. Despite the influx of customers on that day, you did not even mind anyone see you cry as you read. And I figured that you were crying with Ross in the novel as he saw the ghost again. Did you also lose someone important to you? You had those distant look in your eyes again as you looked outside. Did you even notice that your tears kept falling?

Before I even knew what I was doing, I walked towards you and handed you a tissue. You lifted your tear-stained face and looked at me as if I were a ghost. A stream of apologies came from you as you wiped your face, probably embarrassed that you just realized that you were crying in a public space. But I didn't mind. You were still beautiful despite those tears. You took the tissue from me. I watched as you dabbed the tissue on your eyes and cheeks.

"I read that book, as well." I said.

Something flashed in your eyes for a moment and you turned to me. "Really?"

I nodded and recited one of my favourites from the novel. "Heroes don't leap tall buildings or stop bullets with an outstretched hand; they don't wear boots and capes. They bled, and they bruised, and their superpowers were as simple as listening, or loving. Heroes were ordinary people who knew that even if their own lives were impossibly knotted, they could untangle someone else's. And maybe that one act could lead someone to rescue you right back." My friend from high school forced me to read it... fortunately.

"That's one of my favorites," you said.

I have another favorite from that book, I said. It's, "What makes you walk past thirty-thousand people without a second glance, and then you look at the thirty-thousandth-and-first person and know you'll never take your eyes off her again?"

When I had finished mouthing the words, I didn't know what happened. I felt my heart race and uneven breathing. Everything tingled. I looked into your eyes. I knew you felt it, too. Your lips parted to say something until someone called your name. Why were we always getting interrupted?

I looked behind me and I saw a tall, handsome blonde who could easily pass as a British model.

"Nathan," I heard you say. The light from your eyes disappeared in a blink of an eye. And it was replaced by what, disappointment? Or was that word more fitting for me?

You looked from me to him, and then you stood. You were about to walk past me, and I was already preparing this emotional barrier that will prevent me from hurting when you walk out that door with that man, until I heard you say, "Thank you, Heero."

When I heard the door click behind me, it also clicked to me that I had never told you my name before. And that there was a diamond band on your ring finger.

I started to worry when you did not go to the shop in the days that followed. A million thoughts pervaded my mind, thinking if it was from the incident on that last day? It went from "Did her boyfriend take offense in seeing me so close to her and was actually eye-to-eye with her, not caring about the world outside our circle?" to "Will I ever see you again?" I was anxious during the first few days. The hollow feeling didn't leave me.

Whenever a blonde would enter the shop, I would assume that it was you, only to be disappointed later on. Weeks later, I came to the point of not expecting anymore. After all, in another novel by Jodi Picoult, 19 Minutes, the character named Lewis said that there is "A mathematical formula for happiness: Reality divided by Expectations. There were two ways to be happy: improve your reality or lower your expectations."

If you do not expect, then happiness is attainable. But why do I still feel empty?

A month passed and life went on. I resigned to the fact that no matter how much I turn my head in anticipation for any cerulean-eyed blonde who entered the shop will be anything close to you. One day, I was wiping the table that you regularly used. The growing anticipation of wanting to see you again crept up again as I ran my hand on the wooden surface that you usually used.

"Is that seat taken?" you asked. As I was scrambling to get the words out of my mouth, you confidently walked past me and sat down anyway. "The usual," you said, not even bothering to look at me as you brought out a different book from your bag. You had that stern look again, followed by that frown. Why were you always like that? How could you bring yourself to smile at others, but when you were alone, you would always sulk and look like the world had come to an end?

It was almost midnight. My co-workers had left already, and I was the one who would close the shop. You were the only customer left. By that time, you were already writing on your planner. You looked up at me questioningly when I placed a cup of coffee on your table.

"It's on me," I said.

I watched you hold the cup with both hands, and I noticed that the ring on your finger was no longer there.

"Thank you," you said. And I wondered if you weren't talking only about the coffee.

"Listen," I began, but you cut me off.

"This is my last day in Newport City," you blurted out. Your fingers were shaking. Was it because of the air conditioner? If it was, then why did my heart seem to freeze? I was at a loss of words to say. Just when I saw you again, you would leave just as quickly.

You took a sip and placed back the cup back on the table, your fingers still lingering around it. "You know? There were just so many unpleasant memories in this city. The people here... Him. Everyone and everything was cold. I had to forsake being myself just to fit in here."

I swallowed hard. Was I one of those unpleasant memories?

You looked up to me and smiled. "But this is the warmest place I've ever been to in Newport City."

I stood there entranced. It even barely registered to me that I was leaning with my two hands on the table. The feeling was as if I were a moth being drawn to a flame. And then my lips met yours. As expected, you tasted like strawberries – sweet strawberries that I won't get tired of devouring. Electrifying sensations coursed through my body, especially when your hand snaked at the back of my neck to pull me close. It was addictive. I wanted more of you.

When we pulled away to catch our breath, I could only formulate one word. "Stay."

When I woke up the next day just when the early rays of the sun had begun to stream right through the blinds of my room, my body felt sore. Memories of the night before were hazy until I felt you snuggle closer, enveloping me in your arms like the way I was holding you. In addition to that, we were both naked.

You then opened your eyes, revealing those cerulean orbs I had grown to love. "Let me correct myself. Thisis the warmest place I've been to in Newport City."

As much as I loved your statement, I couldn't help but feel this feeling of dread inside of me. I combed your honey-colored hair with my fingers. I just had to ask, "Are you still going to leave?"

By then you shifted and settled your head on my chest. "I have to."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding for so long. My heart sunk.

"Do you do this with your other customers?" you asked.

What the hell's with that question? "Relena, I work in a coffee shop. Not in a love hotel."

"But I was picked up in a coffee shop." you lifted your head and faced me as if you were challenging me. "Why? Why me?"

Why you? You don't even know how much I ask myself that question, as well. "I just know that you're special from the first time I met you."

Your eyes softened. "I'm leaving. I"m not making any promises."

"I'll wait for you."

"But..."

I kissed you again to convey my sincerity, at the same time hoping that it will relieve you of uneasiness. You still tasted like strawberries. "Just always keep in mind that you have a place to go back to. You are always welcome here."

You smiled. "Where here?"

"You really want to know?" I challenged. And I couldn't resist kissing you again as I enveloped our bodies with the blanket.

Author's Note: Hi all! I was kind of killing time in a coffee shop that's why this came into fruition.

This is my second drabble next to "When the Stars Go Blue." Yes, I consider that story a drabble. With this, I wanted to try writing with a first person POV, especially on a male character. I hope you're all satisfied with this trial. Happy Valentine's Day! :)

Credits to Kiwi Musume for the song. :)