crossing the line | oneshot

01

"We decided we'd go out this weekend."

Ah.

That was why it took me a minute to register what he said. Although, I always knew it'd happen sooner or later, or maybe I didn't because I was hoping for a different path. The plot twist or so they often say.

"With whom?" I asked. I wasn't clueless about whom he was talking about. I knew all too well. Too much for my liking, in fact.

"Jane."

"Oh," I paused, tapping his shoulder and forcing myself to smile. A habit I seem to practice these days. One I rather not do. I continued, "You should bring her flowers."

"Should I?"

Don't.

"Definitely."

"Alright."

Idiot. You should know when to disagree.

He tilted his head to the side. His fringes fell when he moved as his eyes lingered on mine. And, just like that, he sucked me into those dark brown orbs of curiosity I couldn't seem to escape. It was always a cluster of invisible traps that succeeded in catching me. All hands tied, feet chained, and willing.

We stared at each other for a while before he opened his mouth to say, "Will that make her feel like I crossed the line?"

I almost choked a laugh. What irony.

That was a constant wonder to me.

Will I make you feel like I crossed the line?

Of course. But then again, this is a horizon. People see the sky and the land or sea closest to each other. Almost touching but never meeting. The nearer someone was to a horizon, the more it was obvious that two opposite poles wouldn't meet. Parallel but never intersecting.

"She won't. For Pete's sake, Elijah, you will be going out this weekend. It's the bare minimum to, at least, give her a gift. Flowers included."

He laughed. That laugh. Another temptation that catches me off guard. Who am I kidding? I haven't put my guard up with him for years now. Never with him.

Vulnerability was something we often hesitate to offer to others, but with him? I gave it on a silver platter and he was even good at navigating it and unconsciously at that.

"You've been going in and out of a daze for a while now. Let me reach you, Thea," he uttered. My head whipped towards his direction to find him smiling at me. Not the type of smile wherein he found my state quite funny but the way he'd often do when he was appreciating something he knew was precious to him. Like the way you are when you open an album full of memories and nostalgia.

I scrunched my nose up and awkwardly returned his smile.

"Was I, really?"

He chuckled.

"You are. Right after you told me that giving flowers is a bare minimum."

I frowned. That wasn't what I meant.

"I said giving gifts was and that flowers are a form of gifts."

He disregarded my statement and patted my head.

"Never mind that. What's important was I reached you."

My heart swelled at that. This was a habit. An understanding between two friends who've known each other for years. A statement that only belonged to us.