Dorm 308

{ T H I R T Y F O U R }

Throughout my life I realized that there are two kinds of change. First, the positive one or the good one. It's like a breath of fresh air when you finally came out of a confined space. It's like the vivid rainbow above us after a terrible storm. Those are the kind of changes I've experienced, theoretically, since I confessed, since Harry confessed. And those are the kind of changes that happens when you least expected it.

That same day, the day at the Farmer's Market, Harry and I drove around the place. So many things have changed since I left for college and it was just a span of five months. A new small antique art café has opened at the old vacant lot causing me to force Harry to pull over and park. It was probably one of the best moments of my life with Harry.

The shop offers coffee with different latte art that, of course, amazed me that Harry made sure to tease me about. You can also buy a plain mug from them and you'd be the one to design it with the special kind of paint they have. Harry, who has a secret art skill, copied a very complex flower design that he found on Google. While I on the other hand, made simple strokes of lines with dots and swirls. It was neat and it turned out to be nice, but Harry was so indulged in making his mug perfect that I finished half an hour earlier than him causing me to watch him concentrate on his mug – which I find amusing and entertaining.

I teased him about it when we left the café with our personalized mugs in our hands. I kept convincing him to show me some of his secret artworks when we get home, like back in the dormitory. Harry told me it was just because he has something to copy from but I know even if you have a copy from the Internet, if you really have the skill, it would turn out to be really amazing. I guess I can say that because even if I copy the art design from Google, my own artwork doesn't seem to be the same with the one I copied.

The moment we arrived home, at half past two in the afternoon, my father's worried but angered expression welcomed us. He gave the both of us a ten minute sermon about "informing-him-where-we-are-and-when-we'll-get-home" before letting us bring the neglected groceries in the kitchen.

Before the sun sets, my father told me he's attending a Christmas party that the company he's working on is throwing. Harry and I were both in the living room that time, sitting way to close to each other, watching movies when he came down the stairs all dressed up. He gave a side glance at Harry when he noticed the absence of distance between our bodies. He obviously sends a threatening warning towards Harry but didn't say anything before closing the front door louder than he usually does.

Harry told me that he has a conclusion that my father hates him more than he does the first time he stepped foot into our house. I laughed at his rant about my father and we ended up kissing again after laughing out loud because I didn't notice that our faces are too close to each other. We pulled apart from before it turned out into a make out session.

The following days, I would wake up with a small note on my bedside table with Harry's handwriting on it. It differs everyday, sometimes an undeniably-cheek-blushing compliment is written on it and it would literally and completely make my day better. Sometimes, a very corny joke is written on it that even without Harry's presence, I would roll my eyes at the jokes he wrote on the paper. But either way, I appreciated both of them.

One Monday morning, after my father left the house for work – because even if he's already on Christmas break his boss would ask for him – Harry surprised me with a single rose on top of the table along with a stack of pancakes and bacon. The sight almost made me melt on the spot, especially when Harry stood behind the table in the kitchen with a knowing smirk on his face. But the reality is, it was the pancake and bacon that made me go weak on my knees. Plus, the thought that he cooked breakfast for me and bought a single rose. I was never a fan of those cheesy gestures but the crimson rushing up my cheeks and the inevitable grin won.