Written On Trains

Ellie x Izzat, Mar 21, 2020

Talk to him! You can, should, must.

The advice drummed into her head as she eyed the man with the scar on his left brow struggle to find remnants of coffee.

"You need a drink?" she finally croaked and entered the pantry.

He smiled the same smile he carved over 20 years ago.

"Yep. I thought I saw instant coffee sachets a couple of days ago," he answered, smiling as he saw her approaching.

He does come across as a player without even trying. Good-looking, talented, kind, he is so many things a girl would go for.

But to her he is something else. He had been living inside her head for decades.

"I'm about to make some. I'll make a pot," she offered.

She tried to ignore that scar. The scar that has been his charming feature since he was 7, she knew.

She knew this because they had first met that same year he got that scar. She, then only 6, was lonely. They were both living in a village at Penarik, a sleepy beachside town in Terengganu.

He sold kerepok lekor around the village. She would wait for him to pass by her house. Her nanny would buy some from him. They would trade smiles. And after that, she would daydream about being his best friend, from after dinner to sleep.

She moved at the age of 7. He must have forgotten about her.

But the little girl she was clung on the memory of him, kept the memory alive, deep inside a part of her brain. The memory of him became her best friend. Her imaginary best friend.

And now her imaginary best friend is pestering her to sit with him in the pantry and drink her coffee slowly, if possible, seductively. She doesn't always listen to him.

"You make good coffee," the man with the scar purred appreciatively.

"Guess you like black with a tinge of sugar. Simple and elegant," she managed a reply.

"Like you," he threw her a double entendre. He meant to say he liked her choice of coffee, but internally he couldn't admit that he wanted to say he likes her, just set aside the coffee already.

That's a pick up line. Smile! Give him a positive signal, her imaginary best friend pushed.

She nearly choked on her coffee.

Eversince she figured her new colleague, Izzat, happens to be the boy who inspired the creation of her imaginary best friend - the same imaginary best friend that had helped her get through adolescence and teen years with unwithering loyalty - life had been super complex for Ellie.

First she had to fend off the idea that her imaginary bestie wants her to start a relationship with Izzat.

Second, she had to come to terms that it is just not cool to be 30 and still have an imaginary best friend.

He is real, and I am not. Go live in the real world, Ellie, her imaginary best friend insisted.

But you've been by my side all these years, she refused.

You know I'm only here to help you cope with the loneliness. Izzat can be that friend. He likes you. He trusted you with his weakness. He lets you see his strength.

So was the rebuttal.

And it was a set of sound arguments.

Izzat did trust her with a secret - he stopped designing because he lost confidence in his own capabilities - and this, no else in the company nor his family knew.

But he showed her his artworks, ones he created on digital medium for his own view. And she saw how strong those designs were.

"I can make you a pot whenever we need to work late like this again," she tried following her bestie's advice.

"I'm sure Puan Atikah won't put our teams into situations like this again. We only had to this cause our client had a fire on their premises, which in turn, sped up the timeline."

Izzat's reply came like cold water splashed onto her face. He may sound friendly, flirty even, but he always made sure they remain professional.

"I'm going to back up the designs my team submitted and call it a night," Ellie said excusing herself.

"Thanks for helping my team out," said Izzat.

Ellie nodded and rinsed her mug.

Before she could reach the door, he stepped to her side.

"Would you... be free tomorrow noon? I made some new designs, thought you could give me some pointers?" he bashfully requested.

Ellie almost laughed. This guy, who had sold his designs to international galleries and household couture labels before, is asking her to check his works in progress?

"Lunch?" she suggested.

"Yes please. My treat," he agreed.

She nodded. She walked back to her cubicle asking her bestie, So how did I do?

To which her imaginary best friend replied, It's a date!

Izzat watched her exit, once again puzzled over that sense of familiarity that he seemed to feel everytime he is around Ellie.

He wonders if the girl knew the effect she has on him. He could draw designs so easily whenever she is watching. Ideas for colors came swiftly. To think he had been suffering from 'painter's block' for two years before they became colleagues.

Now he was addicted to her opinions. Because she doesn't give many. But when she does, she made so much sense. That made him feel that there is a chance the designer in him will make a comeback.

Somehow, he refused to call her his muse.

She's more than that, he reasoned.

A strange ache touches his scar everytime they finish a personal conversation.

He noticed her preoccupation with the hibiscus-shaped scar on his face. It may only be a centimetre long but that seemed to be the only part of him that she seemed to glance at most often.

He wonders if he could get her to find other things about him as interesting as his scar. That was among the reasons why he let her go over his collection of unseen works.

But as to why he would want Ellie to find him fascinating... Izzat still needs to figure this part out.

P/s: Wrote this cause I drank too much coffee at tea time just now.

2:23 AM Mar 21, 2020