Sunday finally arrived, and both woke up around 10:00 AM. After their breakfast, Fighter stayed in the bedroom, immersed in keeping up with trends on his phone. He had learned much about the internet during his free time.
Saint was busy typing on his laptop in the living area when suddenly, a phone call interrupted him. He immediately answered it.
"Yeah, hello?"
"What the!?"
"Yeah, I'm coming!"
Saint quickly turned off his laptop and rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Fighter glanced up from his phone, watching him, then returned to his internet browsing. There was so much to learn online, and he was eager to absorb it all.
After a few minutes, Saint emerged from the shower, headed to the living area, and drank his coffee. He then grabbed his coat hanging on the patio.
Meanwhile, Fighter, who had been engrossed in his phone, suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head while browsing a certain page on the internet. He put down his phone and massaged his temples for a minute, feeling nauseous from the dizziness. After calming down, he got up and went to look for Saint.
"Saint, I have someth—" Fighter began but was cut off by Saint, who grabbed his car keys in a hurry.
"I have to head out today, Fight," Saint said while putting on his coat.
"But it's Sunday..." Fighter countered, puzzled about where Saint could be going on his day off.
"I know, but something came up," Saint replied, approaching Fighter and gently cupping his face. "But I'll come back after lunch. I ordered food for you."
Fighter felt another pang in his head, flinching slightly. Saint, preoccupied, didn't notice as he glanced at the wall clock.
"I have to go, Fight," Saint said, pulling him in for a hug. Fighter returned the hug with a forced smile that didn't reach his ears.
Fighter could only stare as Saint hurriedly left the house.
"See you later, Fight," Saint yelled from the doorway. Fighter just hummed in reply. Soon, the door closed, leaving the house in sudden silence.
A glass of water would help lessen his headache. He drank it slowly, trying not to choke.
"Calm down, Fight. You're almost there," Fighter mumbled under his breath. He opened the fridge to check if they had any apples left but was disappointed to find it empty of fruits.
With a sigh, he closed the fridge and glanced around the quiet kitchen, feeling a pang of loneliness.
He immediately grabbed the house key and a little cash Saint had given him for emergencies. They were out of fruits, so he needed to buy fresh ones to fill their fridge. He already knew how to ride the bus, having experienced it once before. He also knew where the supermarket was located because he had been there a few times with Saint.
Despite this, going out alone made him nervous, as he was not used to it. Fighter took a deep breath, steeled himself, and stepped outside. The fresh morning air greeted him, and he began walking towards the bus stop, reminding himself that he could do this.
The bus stopped at the waiting shed, and Fighter got down immediately, relieved that he didn't trip this time. He walked over to the supermarket located at the corner of the block. Once inside, he headed straight to the fruit section. He picked out a variety of fruits like bananas, apples, grapes, and watermelon, placing them all in his basket. After paying for his items, he filled two plastic bags and headed back to the waiting shed.
On his way back, he noticed a familiar figure across the road. Saint was in a restaurant with the girl Fighter had seen that afternoon, along with an older lady. Fighter could see the girl clearly, giggling at whatever the older lady was saying. Saint was smiling throughout the conversation, and the girl was staring intently at him, making Fighter narrow his eyes in confusion. He couldn't hear anything from his position across the road, but it was clear they were enjoying their lunch.
A pang of hurt hit Fighter as he watched them. He had expected Saint to be busy with work, not out enjoying a meal with someone else. He clenched the bags of fruit tighter, feeling the sting of betrayal.
"Saint... you..." Fighter gritted his teeth at the sight in front of him. He turned around, desperately seeking a place to calm down. An isolated alley caught his attention, and he quickly ran over there. He carefully put down the plastic bags on the dirty ground as he felt something emerging from his back.
"Shit!" he cursed as a flurry of dead feathers fell at once. He quickly gathered them and stuffed them into the plastic bags, trying to fit them inside. He needed to get out of there fast before anyone saw and grew suspicious.
He hurried back to the waiting shed, just in time to catch a bus that had arrived. Climbing on board, he found a seat and tried to catch his breath. The image of Saint with the girl kept replaying in his mind, fueling his frustration and heartbreak. He knew he needed to calm down to prevent more feathers from falling, but it was hard with the betrayal he felt so raw and fresh.
As the bus rumbled towards home, Fighter closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing, hoping to find some semblance of peace amidst the turmoil.
Thankfully, he was alone in the elevator, and soon he arrived at the topmost floor of the building. He struggled to open the front door, his hands trembling in a hurry. Once inside, he quickly opened the fridge and started arranging the fruits with shaky hands.
"Fuck... calm down!" he cursed at his trembling hands.
Fighter took out all the dead feathers from the plastic bag and threw them in the trash bin in the bedroom. He stared down at the bin, the sight of the feathers intensifying his anguish. A knock on the door snapped him out of his trance. He answered it right away, finding a delivery guy with the food Saint had ordered for him. Fighter thanked the man and told him to be careful on his way back.
He placed the plastic-wrapped food on the table and went straight back to the bedroom. Plopping down on the bed, he closed his eyes for a moment, but tears soon escaped. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. As he breathed deeply, he felt more feathers coming out. Sitting up, he picked up the soft but gloomy feathers lying on the bed.
"When will you stop..." he whispered, clutching the feathers tightly. The betrayal he felt was overwhelming, and the emotional toll was manifesting physically in the form of these fallen feathers.
Fighter lay back down, trying to clear his mind and focus on something, anything, to distract him from the pain. The quiet of the apartment felt oppressive, reminding him of how alone he felt. He closed his eyes again, hoping sleep would offer some escape from the turmoil inside him.
