I did what any responsible adult would do—

I ran away from the difficult situation.

It wasn’t hard to do that, not when I knew I was leaving behind something that I so ardently wanted to avoid. Avoiding things wasn’t necessarily the route I preferred, but in this case, I felt like I had the right to abandon everything that I previously chose to leave in the past, purposely. Mostly because they weren’t good memories, and also because I was a new person.

Seeing . . . him seemed like the last straw for me. I was hesitant at first, choosing to lie to my family for the sake of a great vacation before the school semester began, but now it looked like it wasn’t going to be possible to carry on smoothly.

It wouldn’t be correct to continue this ruse if my old crush from high school was, in fact, the one I’d be working alongside with. Right?

No, no it was impossible, and not to mention wholly unbelievable. What was he doing there? Theo should have told me his full name, but—no, Theo was one to give everyone nicknames. In reality, all of this was my own fault, and I had to take responsibility for it.

But how? I was too stunned to think of anything reasonable in that moment, and so I ran away, leaving my equally stunned crush in that garage. Just what did he think of me now?

What did he think of me in the past?

I stopped half-way down the street, covering my mouth in shock. I’d abandoned my roommate at the worst time. It was almost nightfall, and I had nowhere else to go except down. Literally, all the way down the steep street where the intersection began.

The surrounding neighborhood was quiet, besides the sounds of the tall rustling trees above. Other than that, when I finally made it to the main road, the chaotic street pierced my ears with vibrant noises from passing cars and busy shops.

The road stretched on either side of me, heading all the way up, deeper into the city and into the mountains. The buildings sat in a perfect line across the street and rose far into the sky, stacked on top of one another and ladened in brick, while the concrete floors grew hot, chipped from years spent beneath pedestrians and traffic.

The empty residential area had now disappeared, leaving me to the city life below. It was a great contrast from the boarding house up on the hill. A good distraction, actually.

I needed one, especially at that moment. I just couldn’t believe that all of this was happening. It was almost like the universe was pulling some sort of twisted prank on me.

I’d done something to deserve this, huh?

Still in shock, I sat exhaustedly on a nearby bus stop bench, holding myself. My arms were shaking, while the rest of my body turned stiff. My stomach wasn’t feeling good either, and my face felt completely hot. In other words, I was a mess.

Just by a single look, he’d made me revert back to the same boy I was in high school. One single look had the power to take me to the past—the past I desperately tried to hide.

I brought my hands to my face, closing my eyes, reflecting on the events that’d only happened minutes ago.

“Oh my gosh.” I said to myself, tone low, shaky. “Oh my gosh we’re roommates.”

And not to mention, my fake boyfriend.

The boy I yearned for in high school, the boy that I vowed never to see again . . . was back in my life in the strangest possible way. How?

These were questions I could, and could not answer. I’d already said that it was my own fault, but there were other things to take into account too. Why did it have to be him? Of all the people in the world, how had it come to this?

I stared at the ground. Back there, I wasn’t an adult. I was simply a high schooler staring at someone who had grown up.

Arturo.

That name made me drop my hands onto my lap, fisting at the material of my jeans. It was a hot day. Sweat was beginning to grow beneath my bangs.

I got up suddenly, turning back to look at the direction in which I came from. Taking this wonderful opportunity of solace, I glared at the street, imagining that Arturo was there.

Of course he wasn’t. Of course he wouldn’t chase after me. We were strangers then, and we were strangers now. He didn’t care about me. 

Those feelings I used to have were long gone, replaced with indifference. They left when we parted five years ago during graduation. They left when I became an adult.

They wouldn’t return. Those feelings. Even when we looked into each other’s eyes, I knew, right away, that I wouldn’t give in. I couldn’t.

This time, it was my turn to disappear, not his. I had to tell Theo that this wasn’t going to work. Nothing would convince me otherwise.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The good thing about living in a packed city, was that it was very easy to find a bookstore. A quiet bookstore where most people wouldn’t bother you.

That was where I found peace in my moment of chaos. The place reminded me very much of the tiny bookstore in my hometown, located at the very beginnings of the coast, overlooking the ocean’s edge and the glittering water from the shore.

This one, however, didn’t overlook anything worthwhile. It was tucked away into a corner of the block, only five minutes away from the boarding house, with a view of the first traffic stop of the busy road.

In the wide window, the red and green lights from that street reflected on the hazy glass, casting a glare upon me as I stared wistfully into the growing city night.

Stacks upon stacks of bookshelves hid me in a small hidden room of the store, meant for children's books. It was a comfortable place to be, and the air smelled equally as relaxing.

The scent was almost like that of a public library. Aging, decayed paper—with a hint of coffee. The location was no more than the size of a living room, and maybe a dining room too. The building must’ve been a simple loft before. Now, it was littered with books all over the floor, strewn on tables, as well as in unreachably high spots.

From the closest shelf, I took a familiar book that’d caught my eye, and I held it, feeling the rough cover, the gold lettering, as it slid in my hands.

I couldn’t stay in the store all night. I had to eventually go back, but where? The last train was probably already departing. I also had nowhere else to stay. It was simply inevitable. I had to face him.

An urge to cry developed in my chest, choking me up. I wasn’t much of an emotional person, though I was extremely overwhelmed. I hadn’t felt this burdened in a while. It was starting to affect me. Either in a positive or a negative way, I wasn’t certain.

With the book in my arms, I inhaled deeply, willing the tears to go away. It wasn’t helping much, but I had to try.

“Are you okay?”

A voice from behind me spoke up, making me feel even more embarrassed.

I turned around, barely peeking over my shoulder to glimpse at the individual who had disturbed me. “I’m sorry . . .” I said, unaware of who I was speaking to. “I’m—”

I stopped there.

The one who had voiced his concerns, was none other than a young child. He was sitting on one of the chairs, designed to be small for children, and bright red. The child was tucked away behind a bookshelf. That was why I hadn’t seen him before I arrived.

The boy tilted his head at me, pointing to the book, and then slowly raising his own. It was the same title, but a different volume. “Did the book make you cry?”

Hurriedly, I shook my head at him. I didn’t need some ten year-old to pity me. “Not exactly.”

“Then what’s wrong?” He questioned me further.

Looking away from him, I replied, “Nothing.”

Quietness enveloped us both. I was about to leave, until I heard two taps. When I checked on him again, I saw that he was patting the seat across him. A yellow one that was slightly bigger and on the opposite side of the room, not too far away but a good, considerable distance from his.

I didn’t want to sit there.

“Then can you help me with something?” He asked me.

Confused, I placed the book I was holding back into the shelf, to cross my arms. “Where are your parents?”

That was the main question here. Kids weren’t supposed to talk to strangers, and yet they did. Just like this particular one.

He stared at the small exit, and then to me, “My dad’s looking at the magazines right now.” He answered me casually. “His name’s Charlie.”

“Well, your dad should probably be the one to help you.” I advised him, taking the seat anyway. Once I was sitting, I realized I felt much younger. The chair was significantly small, seeing that it was made for kids, but I tried not to pay attention to that.

The boy set his book down on his lap, pleased that I was finally sitting. Well if his father was nearby, then maybe it was okay to keep hiding in that place. No pre-teen was going to make me go back to what I’d left behind. No way.

He squinted at me, like he was attempting to figure me out. “You don’t have to do anything.” He assured me. “I just want your help, to find a book for my grandma.”

Was that what he discovered when he analyzed me? Was that all he wanted from someone right now? It made me nearly forget that I was in a dilemma.

“Why do you need help with that?” I waved to the books around us. “Pick one. Grandmas love anything from their grandchildren.”

“But she doesn’t speak English.” He said defeatedly. “And I can’t find anything here that’s in Spanish. There are too many books.”

I sighed. “Then ask a store employee.”

The child shrank in his seat. His confidence wavered. “I’m too scared.”

“And yet you’re talking to me.” I scoffed at him.

I didn’t understand kids, even though at one point, I was one too.

He pouted, “You look nice, though. That’s why.”

A laugh almost escaped my lips. Here I was, avoiding my problems, hiding from them, and talking to some random child. I really was hitting rock bottom.

I got up from the seat. It was best to leave. I could cry elsewhere. “Ask your dad.”

“I don’t want to make him sad.” The boy said in a small voice.

Concerned, I watched him as his eyes fell to his shoes. “Why would he be sad?”

He looked up at me. “Have you . . . lost someone before?”

A rush of anxiety washed over me as he said this. It wasn’t anything I was expecting, much less from a young child. But the sincerity in his gaze was real, like I had to believe him. Why wouldn’t I believe him? He was, like, ten.

Even more concerned, I sat back down, leaning forward, “What do you mean?”

“My . . . grandma’s in the hospital right now,” His tone remained low. “My dad doesn’t want me to worry, but . . . I know we don’t have a lot of money . . .”

What—what was this?

My gaze landed to the book he currently had. He didn’t know it, but I knew the author very well. It was a fantasy book, in a three-part series that told the adventures of a hero and his rival. It was a book for all ages, considering it had death.

“Hey, kid.”

He gradually lifted his head to meet my eyes.

“Can you speak Spanish?” I asked.

The boy nodded.

“Then you can just translate the novel you have right there.” I concluded. “Can’t you?”

He flipped through the book, pages cascading down as he closed it firmly. “I didn’t think of that.”

I let out a smile. It shocked me—that I was capable of smiling in such a time.

“But I asked you if you’ve ever lost someone.” He reminded me. “Have you?”

My smile faded.

I hadn’t lost anyone. The closest relation I’d ever lost recently was my aunt, the one who left the boarding house to Felix. I wasn’t close to her, and neither was my cousin. I knew that because she was never around, and because my parents used to say that she preferred traveling more than she preferred family.

No, I hadn’t lost someone important. Though, when I thought of it more closely, there were times when I did lose people who were close to me. Friends forgotten, kind people who had come and gone through the years . . .

I sat up in my seat, evaluating my thoughts.

“I guess you could say that’s the reason I was crying.” I admitted, not being fully aware of my words. He wouldn’t know. He was only a stranger. “But I haven’t lost him. Not yet, anyway.”

“Oh . . .”

“That’s nothing compared to what you’re going through.” I told him truthfully. “I’m sorry, kid.”

He sat forward as well. “It’s okay . . . but it’s not okay.” He trailed off. “She’s still here with me now, and that’s all that matters. My dad said so.”

His father—where was he now? This kid needed to leave. When I checked the time earlier, I saw that it was getting late. What child would be out and about on a weekday? Was it summer vacation?

His mere presence made me remember what was important, though. Unlike me, this boy had more serious problems than I did. Here I was, complaining about seeing my old crush—and here was this boy, worrying about someone he loved who was in the hospital.

I registered his words. “As long as you visit her often and read her that book, I know she’ll feel better.”

“Yeah.” He replied, “I love her, so . . . even though I’m scared of hospitals, I want to be by her side. I want to be with her for as long as I can, because I’m sad when I don’t see her.” And in a lower voice he continued, “Don’t you feel that way too?”

That was a difficult question to answer. There was no way I would ever know what he was going through.

I tried to find something to say, but all I could utter was, “No.”

He glowered, “Yes, you do.”

“You don’t know who I am.”

“Your eyes looks sad.” He informed me. “I think you should also be with that person you love. I think that would be good. You would be happy if you did. You’d be happy to be with them now, before they’re not.”

Unawarely, my heart felt like it had sunk to my stomach. The words he’d spoken were so innocent and unassuming, I hardly believed he knew the power they emitted as he said them. It was all the more impactful that he didn’t know.

Be with the person I love now, before they are not—before they are gone.

I’d been too busy thinking of my own selfish wishes, that I’d forgotten to keep other people in mind. It wasn’t the first time I’d done this, nor would it be the last.

But . . . what if Arturo didn't want to see me? Did I want to see him? The only way to find out, was to ask him directly.

“How old are you?” This kid was smart. 

The boy gave me a cheesy grin, proud of his age, “I’m twelve!” He exclaimed happily.

I gave him a defeated smile of my own, “You’re still a baby, so I advise you to stop talking to strangers.”

He held out his pinky finger, “Only if you promise that you’ll spend time with that person you love.”

Once more, he surprised me. I couldn’t keep any promise, yet.

I kept my hands in fists. “Are you assuming that I'm in love with him?”

“Yes.”

Rising from my seat, I felt older. “Well, I'm not.”

I hadn’t made my decisions, but my head was clearer, more rational as time passed. If a twelve year-old could tell that much about me, then I was doomed.

All I could do now was . . . try to confront my problems. For now, I could attempt to understand and accept all the facts, confidently, hopefully—

Like an adult.