He Was a Friend

/40/ She's lost for words. /

A week has passed with neither Eric nor Art going to the cafe like they usually do. As a result, she had more time to think and internalize what she really felt.

But what's this now?

She was crouching as she tied her running shoes properly. She looked at her left, and noticed Eric busily tying his "survivor" belt.

And her right, where Art was fixing his headband.

What the heck? Why are they doing this to me?

She pouted as she finished up tying her shoes, and stomped into the floor twice to check whether she did it properly.

They were at the location of the Outbreak run for that year, a specialized 5km fun run infested with people disguised as zombies. There were many joinees as it usually had every year, and it was their first time joining this race. They always thought 5km might be too easy for them who regularly go on half and full marathons, but they promised to try it out at least once since it looked fun.

Well, it looks fun, alright.

She felt her body being whirled around by someone and heard Eric's voice at her back.

"You didn't tie your belt enough. And these flags, you should at least roll them twice over for them to get locked to your belt a bit more. These will all be gone in one-shot the way they are right now, without anyone having to pull them," he scolded her, while fixing her belt.

The belt was their sort of lifeline on this race – specifically, they have to be able to keep at least one out of the three red flags stapled on it, for them to be marked as a "survivor" who finished the race. The zombies were the ones who take them from the runners, and survivors always get to have the finisher black shirt with a red bloody print saying, "I survived the zombie apocalypse."

She flushed as she felt his breath on her ears as he scolded her, because he was leaning closer to properly fix the flags.

Damn. I am normally okay with these actions of his but ever since that kiss...

She shrugged before she can remember the rest of the details.

Her stomach suddenly felt cold after grazing with someone's hands, as that hand zipped up her colorful training jacket. She was wearing a sports bra inside, and was wearing the jacket originally zipped only until her mid riff, but now it's zipped up so high to almost her clavicle.

She looked at the perpetrator and realized it was Art.

"It's night, and it's cold. You know you have such a low tolerance," he explained in a muffled voice, with his armband in his mouth.

Her gaze went around the people around them, who were obviously not minding their own business but instead, watching them like they were shooting a movie. Cardiac finished their recording this week and are doing some final touch-ups on their album, so Art seemed like in  a brighter mood than usual. It also seemed as if Art just gave up on hiding from both his fans and paparazzi altogether, and didn't mind all the stares they were getting right now.

I mind though!

She did a face palm out of combined embarassment and frustration, and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the race announcer's voice over the speaker phone. She can finally escape from the overwhelming scenario she's in.