Arthur and Carlo ascend the stairs, Carlo briskly ferrying chairs up to the 3rd floor. As they reach the landing, Arthur knocks on the door. When it opens, Rika's face appears, her expression brightening as she recognizes her old friend. Arthur offers a friendly wave in greeting, and Rika welcomes them inside her apartment.
"I'm sorry, Arthur. I really thought I would be able to pick them up," Rika apologizes. Arthur dismisses her concerns with a reassuring smile. "It's okay, don't worry about it."
As Carlo continues to ferry the chairs, Arthur introduces him to Rika. "This is Carlo D'Amico from my school." Carlo faces Rika, his expression slightly flushed from the exertion. "Hello," he greets, a hint of weariness in his voice. "I'll hurry up and finish this."
With determined efficiency, Carlo methodically removes each chair from the truck. He deftly peels away the plastic and bubble wrap that has clung to them during transit. His hands work with practiced efficiency, wiping down each chair's surface with a microfiber cloth. Gradually, he arranges the chairs in a neat and organized fashion within the apartment.
As Carlo expends his energy, the task starts to take its toll. With a final push, he places the last chair in its designated spot. Breathing heavily, he announces, "I'm done!" His voice carries a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment as he wearily leans his back against the wall.
After successfully arranging the chairs, Carlo steps out of the storage room, his exhaustion evident. However, he's immediately drawn into the dynamics of a serious conversation unfolding between Arthur and Rika.
In the cozy apartment, Rika sits behind a wooden desk that serves as her makeshift office space, surrounded by books, papers, and an assortment of pottery pieces. Arthur, on the other hand, stands casually by the edge of the desk, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.
Carlo hesitates for a moment, unsure whether to intrude or retreat. But the weightiness of their discussion hooks him, and he quietly settles on the floor, leaning against the wall, to listen.
"Wouldn't it be better if you let Max stay here?" Arthur's voice is calm and thoughtful as he speaks. He settles into a chair on Rika's left, his gaze fixed on her. "Managing everything alone must be tough for you."
Carlo's curiosity piqued, he finds himself sitting on the floor nearby, inadvertently eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Max doesn't seem eager to find a new job," Arthur continues, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "I can't help but feel annoyed when I look at him. He's probably just waiting for the chance to return here whenever you call."
Sitting across from Rika, Arthur continues, "You've said it yourself, haven't you? That you can rely on him for this work. I believe it's alright to let Max take care of you a bit more."
Rika's expression turns serious, her gaze locking onto Arthur's. "I don't have the right to be taken care of," she responds, her voice resolute. "I don't deserve to be pampered by anyone."
The room is charged with the weight of their unspoken histories and shared moments. Arthur's understanding gaze meets Rika's determined eyes, bridging the gap of understanding between them.
☘
Honey found herself perched on a weathered bench, a hint of pensiveness shadowing her expression. Edward, his mouth preoccupied with a skewer of squid balls, sat beside her. The vendor's cart nearby boasted an array of snacks, including the very squid balls Edward was currently sampling.
Edward grimaced, his taste buds clearly unimpressed. "It tastes bad!" he exclaimed, his face a portrait of sourness. He extended the skewer toward Honey, a tacit offer for her to partake, but she declined with a subtle shake of her head. Her gaze remained averted, avoiding the intensity of his eyes.
Meanwhile, the vendor, irked by Edward's repeated criticism, didn't hesitate to voice his frustration. "Hey! You keep complaining it's bad! What kind of manners is that, after a lady treats you?" His indignation fueled his strides as he marched over to confront Edward face-to-face, his frustration palpable in the air.
Edward, his initial displeasure having escalated into a more genuine annoyance, stood abruptly. He leveled an accusing finger at the vendor, his voice laced with resentment. "You've ruined my favorite snack!" His assertiveness, however, only escalated the situation further.
Amid the intensifying exchange between Edward and the vendor, Honey's unease deepened like an ink stain spreading through water. It became increasingly apparent that she could not endure being a spectator to their escalating confrontation any longer.
With a conflicted heart, Honey rose from her seat on the bench, her departure quiet and unannounced. She cast a fleeting, troubled glance at Edward, who was still embroiled in his verbal exchange with the vendor, and then she turned away, stepping softly but purposefully. Each footfall echoed her need for space, her yearning for distance from a situation that seemed to echo her own inner turmoil.
The atmosphere of the university seemed to enclose her, the sounds of conversations and the hum of activity a backdrop to her racing thoughts. Honey wandered along, her gaze cast downward as if seeking answers in the patterns of the pavement. The weight of her emotions was palpable, a mix of confusion, discomfort, and an unspoken longing.
As she walked, Honey sought a refuge from the storm of feelings within her. A quiet bench beneath the shade of a tree beckoned to her, and she gratefully sank onto it. There, amid the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft hush of passing pedestrians, she allowed herself a moment of respite. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, attempting to calm the tempestuous thoughts and emotions that swirled within her.
Beneath the sheltering embrace of a tree, Honey sought refuge on a solitary bench. Her thoughts, turbulent and restless, seemed to momentarily find respite in the tranquility of her surroundings. The world's bustling rhythm faded into the background, allowing her to close her eyes and attempt to ease the storm within her.
However, the serenity of the moment was abruptly shattered by distant sounds. Grunts and rhythmic thuds punctuated the air, drawing Honey's attention away from her introspection. Casting her gaze towards the source of the commotion, she spotted Evie engaging in a passionate practice session with a baseball bat.
Curiosity mingled with her unease, Honey ventured closer to the impromptu training ground. Evie's movements were deliberate, each swing of the bat a testament to the emotions she was channeling through her actions. The methodical strikes seemed to carry a sense of release, a way for Evie to confront her own inner struggles.
Aware of Honey's approach, Evie paused her vigorous swings and turned to meet her gaze. Concern etched across her features, she addressed Honey with genuine care. "What's wrong? You don't look too well," Evie inquired, her voice a gentle inquiry that mirrored her genuine worry.
Overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions, Honey found herself momentarily incapable of verbal response. Instead, she mustered a faint smile, the edges of her lips curling upward in acknowledgment of Evie's concern. The world seemed hushed around them, the leaves whispering above in a rhythm that seemed to match the cadence of Honey's heartbeat.
In an attempt to bridge the silence, Evie shared her own experience. She revealed that, like Honey, she had also felt the weight of troubles. "At times like these, this is the best," she confessed, her tone a mixture of camaraderie and understanding. With a renewed determination, Evie resumed her rhythmic swings, the bat becoming an extension of her emotions.
Moved by Evie's vulnerability, Honey felt a knot in her chest loosen just a bit. "Evie..." she began, her voice soft but filled with gratitude. The two of them shared an unspoken connection, their friendship a haven in times of uncertainty.
Breaking free from the binds of her own worries, Honey found the courage to voice her desire. "Can I be your student?" she asked, her words carrying a hint of vulnerability. Evie's smile brightened, a reflection of the genuine friendship they shared. "Of course!" she replied, her encouragement a balm to Honey's aching heart.
As the two of them stood together, a pair of baseball bats in hand, the world felt a little lighter. With Evie's guidance, Honey tentatively embraced the bat, her bag set aside as a symbol of her commitment to this new endeavor. The familiar breeze rustled the leaves overhead, as if nature itself was offering its approval.
☘
Under the veil of night, the dormitory's drawing room pulsed with a cozy sense of companionship. Soft lamplight painted the surroundings in gentle tones, casting tranquil pools of illumination across the floor. Here, within these walls, the residents once again found themselves at the center of an amusingly bizarre scenario.
"Hey! Lemme borrow 1000 cash!" Edward's plea floated through the room, his tone a curious mix of childlike innocence and his characteristic mischief. Max, occupying a well-worn chair, responded with a practiced annoyance. "I don't want to." His words carried an air of finality, a testament to his determination.
Yet Edward remained undaunted, reaching out with a flourish to grasp Max's collar as if enacting a whimsical theater. Max, with a fluid motion, rose from his seat, his voice tinged with a practiced exasperation. "If I don't pay for the squid balls, the scary man will take me away!!" His words held an absurd charm, underscored by a genuine concern.
Max's hands, finding solace in his pockets, accompanied his voice with a tone of calm reasoning. "You're the one who's at fault for eating it when you have no money." His response was a familiar refrain, a testament to their shared history.
In the midst of this almost comedic exchange, the door swung open, admitting Carlo into the room. His brows furrowed with genuine worry, his thoughts clearly preoccupied by something more pressing. "Edward! You didn't do anything, did you?" His voice carried a note of urgency, revealing the concern that lay beneath his words.
Edward's brows creased in honest bewilderment, his expression carrying a practiced veneer of innocence. "What?" he responded, his tone marked by a playful confusion.
Unperturbed, Carlo closed the gap with an air of determination. "You didn't do anything weird to Honey, did you?" His words held a touch of accusation, reflecting the protective streak that ran deep among friends.
Edward's lips curled into a sly grin, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Does a kiss count as something weird?" His words hung in the air, a playful challenge to the norm.
Carlo's patience snapped like a taut string. His fingers shot out, gripping Edward's collar with a swift motion that spoke of frustration. "Edward?!" he exclaimed, his tone a mixture of exasperation and annoyance.
Edward's attention pivoted from Carlo to Max, his voice shifting from mischievous to pleading. "Just lemme borrow 1000 cash!" His words held a touch of desperation, a final plea for understanding.
Max's reply resonated with a touch of irritation, his words firmly grounded in practicality. "I don't have a job right now so I don't have any money!" His response was unequivocal, leaving no room for negotiation.
However, Carlo's thoughts had already ventured elsewhere. "Oh, I met someone named Rika today," he interjected, his tone casual despite the weight of his revelation.
Max's eyes widened in surprise, his fingers reaching out instinctively to clutch Carlo's collar, as if trying to wring the details out of him. "Eh? You met Rika?!" His words exploded with astonishment, capturing the moment's essence.
In a whirlwind of motion, the three friends found themselves caught in a comic swirl of collar-grabbing. Max's grip transferred from Edward to Carlo, his tone reflecting confusion mixed with urgency. "Where?"
Carlo's response was nonchalant, yet beneath its simplicity lay a thread of intrigue. "When I was working," he replied, his eyes glinting with a secret.
In the midst of their playful exchange, Carlo's attention shifted to Edward. "Did you really kiss her?"
Edward's voice cut through the flurry, his words a blend of provocation and plea. "Just lemme borrow 1000 cash!"
Max's patience wore thin, his frustration evident in his tone. "What do you mean by working?"
Carlo's gaze locked onto Edward, his words direct yet filled with curiosity. "Did you really kiss her?"
Max, misunderstanding the context, snapped with a tinge of disbelief. He turned to Carlo with an almost accusing grip on his collar. "Kiss? Hey, did you kiss Rika?!" His words were tinged with confusion, as if he had misinterpreted the conversation.
Carlo clarified quickly, his words a blend of explanation and exasperation. "I didn't! I just carried chairs for her!"
Edward's plea resurfaced, his voice carrying a renewed urgency. "Just lemme borrow 1000 cash!"
Max's irritation flared, his words edged with frustration. "Carlo was working so borrow some cash from him!"
Their merry-go-round of conversation came to a halt as Edward seized Carlo's collar, his plea escalating in value. "Carlo! Lemme borrow 5000 cash!"
Carlo's eyes widened in bewilderment, his voice echoing his surprise. "Why did the amount suddenly went up?!"
Amidst the camaraderie, a familiar whistle sounded in the distance, joined by the soft echoes of footsteps in the corridor. The trio's attention shifted towards the door, where a figure emerged—the signature white sando and pants, ceramic pots cradled in his arms. It was Romaya, a beacon of familiarity.
"I'm back," he announced, his smile infectious.
And in that moment, the room brimmed with shared joy. "Brother Romaya!" they exclaimed in unison, their eyes shining with delight.
☘
In the room, an atmosphere of whimsical celebration enveloped every corner. Ceramic bowls dangled from the ceiling lamp like a cascade of colorful stars, a testament to Edward's inventive approach to decorating. Max, seated comfortably on the floor, held a cluster of sturdy sticks, while Carlo, his eyes concealed beneath a blindfold, stood poised for the impending game.
"Why are we doing a piñata party in my room?" Carlo's voice, tinged with a hint of annoyance, carried the weight of curiosity. Edward, ever the orchestrator of surprises, handed a stick to Carlo with a playful air. "Here," he said, his tone light.
Carlo's response was laden with skepticism as he accepted the stick. "Ugh. I'm telling you, there's no way I'm going to hit it." His reluctance was palpable, a mixture of doubt and a tinge of amusement.
Edward's presence settled beside Carlo, his voice laced with playful teasing. "The love life of someone who can't even play a piñata won't go smoothly." His words were punctuated with a knowing grin, while Max joined in, his own smile affirming Edward's jest.
Edward leaned closer, his eyes dancing with mischief as he spoke again. "Right, Brother Romaya?" His attention shifted to Romaya, who sat in the shadows with an air of quiet wisdom.
Romaya's voice, gentle as the whispers of a sage, emerged from the darkness. "Piñata party and falling in love are similar." His words carried an otherworldly quality, a wisdom garnered through experiences known to him alone.
Carlo's voice, tinged with curiosity, questioned Romaya's analogy. "Eh? Is that right?" His intrigue echoed the sentiments of those present.
Romaya continued, his words unraveling like the threads of fate. "You continue to walk relying only on your instincts and the voice of others. When you feel you are certain, you lower the stick with all your might. Piñata parties are a practice for love." His voice was as serene as a tranquil river, carrying the weight of years lived and lessons learned.
As if guided by a celestial hand, the moonlight filtered through the window, touching Romaya's features with a soft glow. The sight left Max and Edward in awe, their jaws dropping in unison. "It's a halo!" they exclaimed, humor and reverence mingling in their voices.
Romaya's voice, steadfast and unwavering, continued to weave its wisdom. "Whether or not you believe the voice of others is your choice. That is the most difficult part of both hitting the piñata and falling in love." His words echoed in the room, a gentle reminder of the intricacies of life and the complexities of the heart.
In the wake of Romaya's profound wisdom, Carlo's spirit ignited like a spark catching fire. Rising from his seat with newfound determination, he declared, "I will work hard!" His voice carried a fervor that stirred the air, drawing the attention of both Max and Edward, who rose in tandem with gleeful excitement.
Edward's voice, brimming with encouragement, filled the room. "Alright! Go!" he cheered, signaling the commencement of the pinata party. Carlo stepped forward, each stride a testament to his newfound resolve.
Edward's guidance flowed like a river, his words guiding Carlo's path. "Go straight! Go straight!" Carlo followed the direction, his steps steady and resolute. Max's voice interjected, clear and guiding. "In front of you! Stop!" Carlo obeyed, halting in his tracks as anticipation built.
"Okay! Hit it!" Edward's words were a rallying cry, and Carlo poised his stick, ready to strike. Yet, in the very moment of impact, doubt crept in like a ghostly whisper. Something felt amiss, and Carlo hesitated, his stick frozen in midair. "This is suspicious," he voiced his concern, causing Max and Edward to groan in frustration.
Their secret plan to have Carlo unwittingly destroy his radio had been thwarted. Carlo's keen instincts had sensed the ruse, and their efforts were in vain.
"This is a trap," Carlo declared, his voice carrying a mix of caution and determination. Without missing a beat, he turned, marching forward once more. But as he moved, Edward and Max, the spectators of this unfolding spectacle, saw their folly. "Stop it! It's not over there!" they cried in unison.
Carlo halted once again, absorbing their words. Edward's exasperated shout echoed, "It's not there!" Carlo took a deep breath, his mind racing. "Then that means... on the contrary," he murmured, a plan taking shape. With a swift motion, he swung his stick, a fierce determination burning in his eyes. "It's here!" he proclaimed, a resolute confidence in his voice.
Edward's warning came too late, for at that very moment, Romaya appeared like a guardian spirit, catching Carlo's stick with hands that moved with grace and precision. Max and Edward's jaws dropped in awe, their disbelief mirrored in their stunned expressions.
"Amazing!" Edward's voice held a note of astonishment, while Carlo, his blindfold removed, could hardly contain his surprise at the near-miss. "Brother Romaya!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of gratitude and shock. Kneeling before Romaya, Carlo's words flowed with remorse. "I'm sorry. What have I done?!"
Romaya's reply held a depth of wisdom that echoed through the ages. "If you are afraid of making mistakes, you won't be able to triumph in love either. Continue to work hard like this." His words were gentle yet profound, an invitation to embrace growth through experience.
Carlo's lips curved into a smile, a newfound understanding dawning within him. He had become Romaya's apprentice in a moment of revelation, learning from the master of life's intricacies.
Meanwhile, as if caught in the jubilant spirit of the moment, Edward seized the opportunity to unleash his own form of celebration. Ceremoniously, he began smashing every ceramic bowl suspended from the ceiling, his stick a whirlwind of exuberance. The room filled with a cacophony of shattering, dirt and dust swirling in chaotic patterns.
Carlo's patience snapped like a taut string, his voice carrying a mix of anger and frustration. "Damn it, Edward!!" The mess that now covered his room was a testament to Edward's unchecked enthusiasm, transforming the once-pristine space into a chaotic aftermath.
☘
Under the starlit night sky, Honey and Evie walked through the streets, their shopping bags swaying in rhythm with their steps. The day had been filled with the thrill of shopping and the warmth of companionship. As they strolled, Evie turned to Honey, a knowing smile curving her lips. "Had fun today?" she inquired.
Honey's response was a gentle nod, a glint of contentment in her eyes. "I'm in the mood today," she admitted, a sense of lightheartedness dancing in her voice.
Curiosity tinged Evie's tone as she probed further. "Did something happen?" Her words held a gentle encouragement, an invitation for Honey to share her thoughts.
Honey's gaze turned introspective as she spoke, a shy undertone accompanying her words. "I went shopping with Edward, but I left him behind." Her confession held a sense of vulnerability, as if she had glimpsed something she wasn't quite ready to comprehend.
Evie's eyes fixed on Honey, an intrigued expression shaping her features. "Edward?" she repeated, seeking clarity. Honey's gaze fell to the ground, her words revealing a complex tapestry of emotions. "When I'm with him, I feel strange and I can't calm down." The honesty in her voice was palpable, a raw admission of her inner turmoil.
"It's painful and I wanted to go home the whole time," Honey continued, her voice carrying a hint of confusion and a touch of longing.
Evie absorbed Honey's words in thoughtful silence, her gaze soft yet knowing. Then, unexpectedly, a wave of laughter erupted from Evie's lips, the sound ringing through the night like a melody. Honey stared at Evie, perplexed by the sudden outburst of mirth. She couldn't fathom the reason behind Evie's amusement.
Through her laughter, Evie managed to speak, her voice laced with an irreverent playfulness. "That's love!" The declaration hung in the air, a revelation that seemed to strike Evie as humorous beyond measure.
Honey's eyes widened at the utterance of the word "love," her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected term. She recoiled, a mixture of shock and disbelief coursing through her. "There's no way that's it! Stop being so idiotic!" Her words held a mix of embarrassment and denial, a shield against the unfamiliar emotions that had been stirred.
Evie's laughter subsided, replaced by a more contemplative tone. "Well... When I know that kind of feeling. When I'm with someone I like, I feel so nervous and it was a lot of work." Her words held a gentleness that spoke of shared experiences, of having journeyed through the labyrinth of emotions herself.
Honey's thoughts whirled, Evie's words echoing within her like a lingering melody. She pondered deeply, the truth of Evie's words striking a chord within her heart.
Evie's gaze shifted upwards, fixating on the sky adorned with stars. She continued, her voice holding a sense of wisdom earned through her own trials. "You should come to my house on the day of the fireworks."
Honey's gaze turned towards Evie, her curiosity piqued. "Me?" she questioned, the invitation taking her by surprise.
Evie's response held an unspoken certainty. "Of course! Fireworks are not fun at all if you're watching them by yourself." Evie's gaze remained fixed on the canvas of stars, her voice carrying a touch of wistfulness. "Fireworks disappear right away, but it's something to see with people you want to be with. Even if you forget the colors and shapes of the fireworks, you will always remember the faces of the friends next to you."
Honey's thoughts stirred, the weight of Evie's words sinking in. She looked up at the stars, the expanse of the sky reminding her of the boundless possibilities that lay ahead. In that shared moment under the celestial tapestry, Honey felt a glimmer of understanding, a glimpse into the intricate tapestry of emotions that she was only beginning to unravel.
☘
In the drawing room, the air hummed with the quiet energy of their individual pursuits. Carlo sat on the sofa, a frown etched on his features as he cast a disapproving glare towards Edward, who was busy at his table. Max, absorbed in his book, provided a calm contrast to the simmering tension in the room.
Edward's voice, lighthearted and unabashed, disrupted the tranquility. "Are you mad? What's wrong with smashing ceramic bowls in a piñata party?" His words held a note of innocence, as if the chaos he had caused was merely a harmless diversion.
Carlo's patience snapped like a taut string, his exasperation pouring forth in his retort. "Who wouldn't be angry about their room being covered in dust and dirt?" His annoyance was palpable, a testament to the havoc Edward's actions had wreaked.
Seating himself beside Carlo, Edward leaned back against the sofa, a sigh escaping his lips. "It feels like summer and it's great, no?" His words bore an air of nonchalance, as if he was content to bask in the aftermath of his antics.
Carlo's response held a mixture of frustration and resolve. "It's not great. From today, my friendship with you is over." He turned away, his words carrying a touch of dramatic flair.
Edward sighed, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "Carlo, what are your plans for tomorrow's fireworks?" His query shifted the dynamic, drawing Carlo's attention once more.
Carlo abruptly stood, his movements brimming with agitation. He began to walk away, his back turned to Edward. But Edward's next words halted his retreat. "Don't you want to go with Honeylyn?" The mention of Honeylyn's name was a lure that Carlo couldn't ignore.
Max's voice, sly and knowing, interjected. "Oh no, he took the bait." His words were laced with a sense of amusement, a testament to his awareness of the unfolding drama.
Carlo turned back to face Edward, skepticism etched in his expression. "What?" he questioned, his guard up.
Edward's assurance was unflinching as he spoke. "I set up something for you, Carlo." His words held a touch of sincerity, a rare glimpse into his genuine intentions.
Carlo's voice carried a note of disbelief, his skepticism firmly rooted. "That's a lie, isn't it?" His doubt was evident, a defense mechanism against the possibility of being deceived once again.
Edward's response was unwavering, his earnestness cutting through Carlo's skepticism. "It's true! I really told her." His admission held an air of vulnerability, a rare glimpse of the genuine Edward beneath the layers of mischief.
Carlo shook his head, his resolve unwavering. "I won't be tricked by that kind of lie anymore." His voice carried a mixture of determination and frustration.
Edward's sigh cut through the tension, his words carrying a note of surrender. "Then it's okay. Since I have no choice, I'll go instead and kiss, kiss, kiss." His tone held a mischievous tease, a testament to his knack for pushing Carlo's buttons.
Carlo's patience finally broke, his voice exasperated as he exclaimed, "Yes! I will go!" His hand shot up in exasperation, a declaration of his surrender to Edward's persuasive tactics.
Stepping towards Edward, Carlo leaned in close, his eyes locking onto Edward's. His tone was a mixture of desperation and pleading. "Can I really believe you?" His words carried a weight of longing, a desire for reassurance.
Edward met Carlo's gaze, his voice sincere as he replied, "Of course." His words held a promise, a pact between friends.
With a mixture of frustration and hope, Carlo seized Edward by the shoulders, standing tall before him. "She's really, really going to come, right?" His voice was a mixture of doubt and yearning, a reflection of his vulnerability.
Edward's assurance was unwavering, his words carrying a touch of conviction. "I'm telling you, she'll come, so don't worry." His voice was a beacon of reassurance, a lifeline offered to his friend.
Yet, as the conversation continued, Max interjected with a piece of practicality. "You know, shouldn't you be more worried about the weather?" His words bore a hint of reality, punctuating the moment with a dose of practicality.
Carlo's world seemed to halt for a moment, the weight of this new information sinking in. "What?" he exclaimed, his curiosity piqued.
Max's reply was straightforward, delivered with a touch of finality. "It says it will rain tomorrow." The forecast hung in the air like a cloud, casting a shadow over Carlo's plans.
Carlo fell silent, his thoughts churning as he absorbed this unforeseen obstacle. The room was now tinged with uncertainty, the impending rain a reminder that even the best-laid plans could be altered by forces beyond their control.