Custom Made For You

Chapter 12- Dayum, Those Sweat Pants Though

I wanted to cry. Cebario… Hah, I remember now, I had a brother. I loved him, I really did. He was indeed my everything, my friend, my teacher, my guardian, my parent, my saviour. I looked up to him, I was constantly amazed by everything he did. I was fearless whenever I was with him, I knew that he would protect me, no matter what. That was his promise to me.

Silently, I stood up from the table, leaving the once appetizing food on the table, untouched. I went to the dryer and changed into the clothes Vastel had washed. I was truly grateful for what he had done, but I honestly had to leave. I was not in the mood for a questioning session.

When I had gathered all my things, I looked at Vastel, unsure if it was the last time I would ever see him. No, I wanted to see my brother again.  “Hey,” I nudged his arm, “If you want, I can help you.”

I swore I could see his eyes twinkle with excitement. He grabbed my hands, “R-really? You would do that?”

“Yeah, you helped me last night, the least I could do was to help you,” I lied. I knew it wasn’t the best idea and I was using him in a way. However, I was extremely desperate.

Vastel grabbed a piece of paper nearby and rapidly scribbled a few lines of numbers. Shoving it into my hand, he said, “ Here are my contact numbers. The first one is my personal number, second is my office and then my house phone. Also, we should meet up, I’m sure every weekend works for you, right?”

I nodded. ‘Well, there is no way to back out from this now,’ I sighed to myself. I was then kindly offered a ride back to my place. Of course, there was no way I was going to let a person who I had only met less than 24 hours know where I lived, I had already told and shown him too much. I rejected him, immediately leaving afterwards.

I would have envied him more if I wasn’t feeling like crap. He was living in La Gente, one of the most expensive penthouse apartments where only the wealthy lived. Though, at that moment, my main problems were how I was going to get home. La Gente was really far away from where my pitifully tiny flat was.

I had a lot on my mind, that resulted a tiring 5 kilometres sprint. I had to clear my mind somehow. I wanted to burst into tears thinking about my brother. His face was blurry in my head, yet I tried oh-so-desperately to remember how he looked like. I was not ready to forget him again, never again.

I caught a red cab after running like crazy. I was worn out, physically and mentally although I had only woken up an hour or so ago. I gave the driver my address before leaning back into the seat, sinking down into the oddly comforting cushion. I rubbed my face with my hand, trying to get rid of the mixed emotions.

It was a 40 minute ride of me nearly drowsing off like five times. I was glad that the driver did not ask any questions, perhaps they had sensed my negative emotions and decided to leave me be. I handed the driver the remaining cash I had left in my wallet before slowly getting out of the car.

My mind was a mess as I walked up to the floor I was living on. The flat where I lived had only six floors without a lift. It could have been troublesome to climb up the stairs at times (Especially after grocery shopping), but I did not care at that moment. I just wanted to go home, it had already been two nights straight I had yet to step a foot into my cozy apartment.

The first thing I noticed when I got on to my floor was a figure I did not want to see. He was sitting outside of my door. A wave of fear and panic washed over me. Very carefully, I tried to sneak away. I knew I had nowhere to go, but anything was better than dealing with him.

Just as I turned my back, I heard him ask, “You sure you don’t want to go in? Because I kinda do, I have literally been waiting here for hours. It would be kind of you to not ignore a person.”

In my slowest pace I turned to face him, shuffling towards my original destination. It did puzzle me how he knew where my place was but, hey, I wasn’t going to provoke an agitated Fancy-Ass. Though, he looked really good in sweat pants, not that I was going to tell him that.