ɢᴜɪᴅᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

18 | Picture This

I'm doing this. I'm going to do this without feeling weird as fuck about it. It's just a gift that wasn't asked for. That's all.

I look down at the small scrapbook that had pictures of the previous nights plastered inside. I added some of my own comments, and left space for Arzhel to make his own. I had Maria and Ryland send the pictures over, and had them printed the day after. The pictures were cool to have, but they weren't for me. Arzhel looked like he had a really good night when we went to the karaoke place, and the day after when we holed up in Kian's apartment, binging movies.

The thought came to me the same night, when I went home, that he'd probably like to have those memories with him. Physically, and not just mentally. I thought to do this for him as a payback gift for the one he gave me. His box of chocolates is still sitting on the highest cabinet in my kitchen, so no one would think to touch it. I eat one or two when I'm craving something sweet, and I told him I'd make it last.

Anyone might've thought it was something simple, and put it off—but not me. I thought it was thoughtful from the container, with the stickers on top, down to the chocolates inside. I told him about my little sweet tooth, and he ran with it. When he gave it to me, I didn't want anyone else to ask for it because I would've told them: fuck no. I don't even want to think about how I struggled to hold back from bear hugging Arzhel. He looked nervous, yet excited to give the gift to me. All I could think about was how adorable he looked, and how it enhanced when he smiled when I told him I liked it.

A fluttering sensation had erupted in my chest before it flowed down to my stomach. I'm not dumb enough to ignore what the feelings were, and who caused it. It's happened more frequently since then, and it seems like everything Arzhel does warms me to the core. I've welcomed his blatant stares, and even started to return them without shame. I've noticed that I always find a way to touch him, or be near him, and it's throwing me for a fucking loop. Everything I'm doing is out of the ordinary, because I'd end it before I did any of this for someone else.

I sigh, stuffing the two figures, that I bought along with the scrapbook, into the bag. I finally get out of my car, locking it behind me as I head into the apartment building. I make my way to the elevator, avoiding contact with the floor employees. My eyes are glued to the items in my bag, studying them as if I haven't bought them myself and made it. I ignore the elevator music, only looking up when the doors open. I don't know why they made an elevator that only goes to the second floor, when there's a third. I jog up the flights of stairs before walking down the hallway—silently reading the door numbers until I reach the one I'm looking for.

I knock a few times, and ring the doorbell in case no one's by the door, and because it'll annoy Neil.

"Coming!" a faint voice calls.

I wait a beat before the door opens to reveal Neil. His hair is disheveled, sticking into a million different directions. He doesn't have a shirt on, and his shorts are hanging low on his waist. My eyebrows slightly raise at the SpongeBob slippers on his feet. I look up when he whistles.

"Am I going to have to make a key for you?" he asks.

"Maybe," I answer, moving past him.

He mumbles under his breath, loudly slamming the door behind him. I didn't miss the way his eyes stay glued to my bag, probably wondering if there's Taco Bell inside. I ignore him, walking further inside to see Arzhel in the kitchen, closely studying a book.

"Who was it, Neil?" he asks, not looking up.

"Some guy," I answer, "you should really make a key for him."

Arzhel spins around in his seat, his eyes wide. I smile, sitting down next to him—briefly glancing at the book to see it's a textbook for his majoring class. He must've been studying up for a pop quiz, or test, because finals are a little ways away. I hike the bag up onto the tabletop, turning it towards him, so he'd get the hint to look inside.