The Halves Of Maria

Chapter Two: Chance Encounters

I met Yohan Lye almost a year ago. It was late at night, the chill of early spring still embittering the air. I was out with a few of my friends... that is to say, a couple of people I was truly friends with and some others who thought that being connected to a member of the Pierce family was a 'worthwhile endeavor.

It was maybe two in the morning, and we had decided that exploring the... um... less well-known parts of the city. Looking back, it was probably one of the absolute stupidest ideas of my lifetime... but it was late, and we were tired, so I'll try to forgive myself for everything that could have happened.

   We were lost.

As in, lost to the point where we were going in circles, and to our eyes every shadow had the aspect of a lurking criminal.

   Most of our phones were dead, having given up the ghost after endlessly cycling through way to many 'current hits' playlists during our rambles, and the ones that still had a spark of life left in them couldn't get a decent reception.

   I'll admit it, we had begun to panic. Just a little bit.

   ...okay maybe a bit more than a little.

   That was when I saw him, a shadow set amongst the grungy shades of a side street.

   I almost choked on my wave of panic, a million true crime cases surging through my brain in an instant.

   This was it... I was going to be murdered in a back alley by a perverted stranger and my poor, bloodied body would be discovered, months from now, decaying in some trash heap and rotted beyond all recognition.

   Okay but to cut things a little shorter, I was NOT murdered by the stranger of the slums. As you might have guessed by this point.

   We had the luck to meet one of the few people out that night who wouldn't have preyed on a bunch of exhausted rich girls who didn't know one street from the next.

   After doing his best to assure us that he didn't have our brutal murders in mind as his activities for the evening, he gave us careful directions to the nearest bus station, the only dependable place to get a safe ride home. He offered to go there with us, but that seemed like way to much of a serial killer move, and was quickly and unanimously vetoed.

   Before we left he passed me a small piece of paper, our directions carefully scribbled across it. He smiled slightly as he did so, and I didn't quite understand why until later, when we were all safely on a bus back into the main city.

   I was fidgeting with the paper he'd given me, my tired mind now too overstimulated to rest.

   That was when I noticed it: a few lines of hasty writing on the back:

   In case of emergencies, calamities, or confusion, or boredom. But bring a map next time.

   Below that were the digits and dashes of a phone number.

   I felt my cheeks grow warm, although it was ridiculous to be that way over something like this.

   Pull it together, Maria! He only wants to try to ensure that you don't get yourself killed.

   Anyways, it's not like I was ever going to actually use his number. Right?

   Wrong.

Outside my bedroom window I can hear the purr of an approaching engine. It's a sound I would recognize anywhere, and it's my cue to flick off the lights and slither out of my window into the night.

   Two window ledges, a balcony, and several tree branches later I'm safely on the grass, breathless from the descent. I hurry to the front gate, putting in the lock code and slipping out.

   Yohan leans against one of the stone walls surrounding our garden, on hand resting on his idling motorcycle. He looks so completely like the stereotypical bad boy, from his tousled black hair, to his careless stance, to the black leather jacket he always wears.

   Don't be fooled by what you may see, or by anything he might say. This boy is a cinnamon roll, drenched in black icing.

He greets me with a smirk as I brush bits of bark off of my sweater.

"There's a leaf in your hair" he says, in a teasing way that isn't at all charming. Not at all.

I struggle to find the crackling leaf buried in my end of the day frizzy hair, knowing that it's probably becoming hideously messy with my shifting and pulling.

"This leaf is where exactly?" I ask, feeling frustration bubble up inside as I search my hair.

He leans over to me, swatting my hands away from my head and plucking away a crinkly brown leaf. "Here," he answers, holding it close to my nose.

My cheeks are on fire and I'm suddenly VERY thankful for the blanketing darkness that surrounds us.

"So," I mumble, trying to dispel the twisting, fluttering sensation taking hold in my stomach, "where to tonight?"

"That depends," he says, smiling as he absentmindedly shoves the withered leaf into a pocket of his jacket, "what's the mood tonight?"

Ever since I answered the 'for emergencies' phone number on his note -although it was actually initially on a dare that I texted him and not an emergency at all- we have spent the midnight hours of our weekend nights exploring the nooks, crannies, and hidden places of the city.

And yes, I know it was stupid to trust a stranger like that... I'm just stupid sometimes, okay?

Regardless, from night markets and corner restaurants to crumbling bridges and forgotten statues, Yohan has shown me a dizzying, dirt streaked side of the city I had barely known existed before meeting him.

And I know that it's ironic and totally random that someone I met once, in a slum, has become such a huge part of my life, but Yohan Lye is the best, goofiest, most trustworthy friend I have, the one friend I feel isn't going to turn away from me when the dazzle of my station wears off, or the weirdo quirks of my personality start to really sink in.

"The mood is... chaotic" I reply with a small smile.

"Pent up emotions? Aggravation? Uncertainty?" Yohan guesses, with the dramatic air of a connaisseur selecting the perfect wine for a costumer, "Well then... only one place to go" he winks at me, grinning and letting the sentence dangle in the air, waiting for me to catch the hint and finish it.

"Karaoke?" I ask, returning his grin.

"Well, if you insist," he pushes himself away from the wall, kicking up the stand on his waiting motorcycle and sliding on. "Ready?"

I ease into the seat behind Yohan, wrapping my arms around him, as loosely as possible, because the idea of truly clinging to him is still just way too awkward for me to process. "Ready."

And at that he guns the engine, and we speed off into the rushing darkness, alone in the discordant quiet of a city night.

A/N: if you've gotten this far..... lots of love to you 💖 and please stay for the next few chapters, in which the ✨drama✨ and the ⚡️intensity⚡️ 🔥heat up🔥