Fix My Heart || Yang Yang

fix my heart

To: grace, thanks for being my rant pal and call buddy, always. This one's for you.

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On a busy Wednesday, you drove your car in a hurry. You checked the time on your wrist watch, 12.03 p.m. Dang, you were late to the meeting!

Yes, as the design team trainee, you have to be at least an hour early to all meetings. And yes, you are a lazy bum. Thanks to the broken alarm clock, you woke too late this morning. You skipped breakfast and drove towards the meeting venue like mad. To top it all up, today of all days, there's a road blockage.

"Holy mother of cow! You've got to be kidding me!" you cursed, as the officer in the street told you to change directions.

Still cursing, you slammed the car to the nearest shortcut you knew. You smirked in victory as if nothing can stop you now. Sorry, not sorry, but road blockages can't ruin my day.

It's just 10 minutes in, and you feel your car tire flatten all of a sudden. "Mother, what have I done wrong?" you cried. You know quite well that banging your hand on the steering wheel wouldn't change a thing, but you still did it anyway. For the sake of the mood.

Now what? You have approximately 45 minutes before the real meeting starts, and you're in the middle of some random street you barely knew. Oh, how you knew you'll be in so much trouble.

Slowly, you drive the car to a nearby car repair shop. One that looks trustable, unlike the last 10 or so that you passed. 'Old boy mechanics,' you read the sign. You shrug. Might as well try.

After parking the car in front if the shop, you get off the car. You look around for someone who could help you, but there seems to be no one there at the moment. You sigh, 'please don't tell me I have to look for another shop'. But since there's no one around, you walk out of the shop.

Just then a clanking sound came from under a parked car by the entrance. Curious, you try to peek under the car. But someone beats you to it. A person slides out from under the car, almost bumping into you on the process.

The person, a man in his late 20s, locks eyes with you. "Hi there, how can I help you?" he offers the softest smile that makes you go uwu in a million languages.

You didn't realize, you were actually staring at him for a little too long before replying. "Oh, oh right. Hi, I'm here for my car. I mean- to fix my car. I think I got a flat tire," you went on.

The man, still smiling, wipes his hand on a dirty towel he found on a desk nearby. He looks away for a second, only to stare back at you on the next. You can't help but flush pink at the sudden eye contact. He chuckles before backing away.

"Just give me a second, I'll be right back." The man then went to grab a clean towel from a wardrobe and slings it over his shoulder. You gulp. That was one real smooth move.

The man proceeds to wipe his sweat with the towel. Your eyes follow the towel move to wipe his bang-covered forehead, his structured nose, his sharp jawline, down to his tender neckline and toned arms. Once again, you gulp.

The show doesn't end there though. The man had to drink from a bottled water, spilling its content on his already sweat-stained shirt, making it wetter. Your eyes search hungrily for his Adam's apple as it bobs with every gulp he takes.

You find yourself clenching hard on the sides of your trousers, making it crumple. You curse yourself internally before returning your gaze towards the man. But this time, the two of you lock eyes. As if caught red handed, you started to blush. You had to look away to hide the warmness on your face.

The man then approaches you. "So, can I take a look?" he half whispers. Shivers run down your back. Still, you try to be composed and professional. "Pardon?" you ask him to repeat.