The Most Realistic Fanfiction Ever Made (Told In The Most Realistic Manner)

II. TRL

II. The Realistic Lunch

He invites her to lunch, of course, because he had always dined alone. Or with co-workers, or teammates, when the pantry's all crowded. He doesn't actually want to invite her, because he doesn't really seem comfortable her around at all (but he knows he should be) and she really doesn't talk at all.. or maybe she just doesn't want to because he's not really the kind you'd want to tell all your stories to. Well, not that he wants to know all of her life stories. Because that ain't normal. At all. You don't ask weird questions on the second day of knowing each other (like, fully knowing each other with proper introductions and all).

He asks her if she wants to eat lunch with him, because she really doesn't have anyone to eat with, and the same goes for him. He's not really aloof at work... he's just not the makwento type, because that's what normal people (and adults) do, right? Keep your personal life separated from your workspace, because if then, you would not be able to breathe.

But he had done that and he still isn't able to breathe (in her presence).

Richard gathers himself, and his thoughts (ayaw paiwan) because not being able to breathe around a certain person can't possibly mean anything but - you've got health issues. Yeah. Health issues. May lahi yata sila ng asthma. He doesn't know. He wants to know now. He wishes they have a history of asthma or any kind of sickness associated with his lungs, because they're malfunctioning right now.

Or maybe it's his mind that's not really functioning well. He tries to think about what happened last week. Yeah, stressful. Events held in Australia were not really successful, and the pressure's on their team. They have to save the Australian region or else the company's branch would be dissolved in a year.

(But he needs help as well... maybe saving Australia can come second in his list of priorities.

He also doesn't want to peek and see who's at the top.)

"Hey," she pulls him back to reality, and he's partly embarrassed because he's not being normal right now. "Sabi ko tara sa Market."

He wants to tell her that she's too normal, because you're not supposed to say it like that, because it's Market! Market!, and why would the creators include an exclamation point if not to pronounce it like that? People are not normal sometimes, and so is he... so. He doesn't know who's to blame.

"Ang layo," he tells her, but she's already heading for the elevator, and he is left with no choice but to follow her. Because not arguing with your co-worker is included in the list of the most normal things in the world in order not to make your life a living hell.

"Saan mo gustong kumain?"She asks (finally!), and takes the ascending escalator. That move automatically tells him that she wants to eat upstairs, erasing all the options at the ground floor. But then again, there aren't really a lot to choose from the ground floor (still, she erased the bee and the clown from the list, and he likes the bee) so for the nth time (second, actually) today, he follows her. They settle for KFC ("I like their chicken."), and they eat in silence. And in a hurry. Because nothing's actually special about two adults wearing their long sleeves and pants and skirts and leather shoes and heels and nothing's really special and extraordinary but her exposed skin and he has no absolute idea how to tell her that she missed a button just below her collarbone and maybe, just maybe, he finds out the reason why he can't breathe.

Skin.

He can't breathe because of skin.

(*exposed skin, author wants to elaborate, but of course male protagonist doesn't want to embarrass himself further in front of readers no matter how realistic this is.)

"Ilang taon ka na ba?"He queries, because after debating with himself what the most normal question to ask is, he decides to pretend he doesn't really know her. At all. That includes him pretending that she should be four or three years younger than him. He's twenty-five now, so she must be twenty-one or twenty-two.

To his surprise, Maine answers:

"Twenty-seven."

He tries hard to think why people lie, and if they really do, there must be a reason for it. But as one would expect, male protagonist, goody-good Richard, isn't exactly good at hiding things, and female protagonist Maine isn't stupid at reading people's reactions (who is, really??), she follows her answer with, "Hindi halata 'no?"

He laughs awkwardly, and dismisses the thought. People lie all the time, he tells himself, but he doesn't really see the point why she would lie about her age. It doesn't really matter, though, no matter how old or young she looks. He expects another ordinary question, this time from her, but she stays silent, and they continue eating. He shrugs the weird feeling (or tampo? he can't really tell, male protagonist is bad at knowing some mundane things other people know it before he does - note inserted by author) of not being asked, although he knows he's a bit sad, because she gives the impression that she's not really that interested about him.

(He doesn't blame her, though. He's never interesting, anyway.)

"Madirihin ka ba?"

He stops his spoon midway to his mouth, but drops it immediately, because it really isn't normal to do that unless you have poor motor skills. "May tanong kasi ako," she says. "Pero baka mabilis kang mandiri kaya mamaya na lang pagbalik."

He wants to tell her that she couldn't be possibly as gross as he imagines, or if she is, it would not really matter. Wala naman syang pakialam. Her life is hers, anyway, and he's not really occupying a huge part in it, so why would his opinion matter?

(He doesn't care, but he has a lot to say on that subject, so I don't know who's lying: male protagonist or Richard. No clue.)

"Ano?"

"Kung magkakakulay ang utot mo," she asks with a straight face. "Ano at bakit?"

And he finds himself answering, in the most normal way that he could, because why can't farts have their own colors? No one tells them what to do. "Blue," he replies. "I like blue."

"Hm," she nods. "Fair enough."

"Bakit?"

""If you told me white or gray para hindi halata," she flips her hair. "Ija-judge kita. Minsan lang magkakulay ang utot ng tao. Samantalahin mo na."

Richard then thinks it would only be normal (or polite) to return the question, so he asks him, and she answers with: Blue and silver, para futuristic. Or pink and violet, para fab.

They go back in a hurry, because there's nothing really notable with eating together when the pantry has several vacant seats, and that Richard had unconsciously ignored his team leader's request to buy her soda from the nearest convenience store (which can also be bought from Market! Market!) because he's so preoccupied with not losing her in sight, or even the fact that she almost told him her real age after giving her usual answer to males asking is not unusual. Well, nothing's really remarkable that she starts walking beside him for the next few weeks, and not before or behind him, like she usually does, because well, they're normal adults, or millennials, who do not have exactly a clue where they're going, or what is concrete in their lives (because what is, really?).

All he knows is he's thankful, because a female co-worker pointed the missed button in his place, and she fixes her clothes right away.

(He's clueless that what just happened is actually much worse, because she might think that he enjoyed the free show, but of course, he doesn't really realize that, even after the end of the story, even after twenty short chapters, because he's that naive. Poor male protagonist.)