Everything about him is different in the light of day. Everything. He almost looks… normal?
In all the years I have been a fan of Pete, his brand has been the same. Unlike most idols who change the aesthetics of their brand every debut season from colorful to cottage-core to vintage, Pete’s brand has remained the same. Dark and sleek. He has kept to black leather, permed hairstyles that remain styled backward with lots of jewelry.
A majority of his on-screen characters are playboys, bad boys, and cold billionaire heirs. His all-black style pairs well with this, and in some ways made me believe Pete and his characters have much more in common than we, his fans, might think. The man running up to me however is almost unrecognizable.
His hair is curly and fluffy, and the dampness from the fog does little to kill the fluff. His bright yellow sweater has watermelon prints all over it, paired with teal green colored trousers and dusty pink sneakers. With the ice cream he’s holding up, he appears bubbly, a heavy contradiction to the man who often brags about how black is the only color that matches his energy, and I’m not sure what to make of this.
“Surprise shortie!” he cheers upon arrival, his smile so broad, I’d assume it will stretch to his ears.
“What… what are you doing here? How did you even find me?” He points at the logo on my delivery jacket and I heave a loud sigh. “You’ve got to kidding me.”
“I got us ice cream!” he cheers, dangling the plastic plates in front of me.
I eye the plates, immediately recognizing the brands. It’s the type Minnie loves, the type Pa cannot afford to buy her. “You told my boss I’m your boyfriend? Are you crazy!”
He pouts, his smile shrinking. “She assumed and Klause didn't correct her so it's easier.”
“Klause?”
He points to the driver in a suit standing a few steps away. Ah right. He did tell me his name. He flashes a smile and I smile back awkwardly, returning my gaze to Pete.
“Look… Pete… thanks for paying for the POS, but I’m off work now… so…” I wave him off and turn around, aiming for quick steps back into the building.
“Your boss says your shift doesn't start for another hour!” he calls out to me.
“My boss doesn’t know everything!” I shout back, not turning to see his ridiculous fluffy hair and watermelon sweater. What’s with that anyway? Why does he have to look so—huggable?
I hear his quick footsteps coming after me with a light jog and I groan. What does he want now? He smells like bubble gum, I like bubble gum, not this, not him showing up here like were… friends.
“Go somewhere with me,” he demands when he arrives.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“I have something called a job… do you know what that is?” I stepped into the building and he follows. “Where do you think you’re going?” I ask, swinging around.
“To see ask your boss for a little more time with you.”
“Are you insane!” I seethe. “You’re trying to get me fired.”
“Relax, Shortie, she likes me.” He grins, moving to walk past me and I throw my hands in the way.
“You’ve done what you came for, don’t you think you should leave?”
He throws his eyes behind me. “There she is! Ms. Fai!” He waves, pushing past me as he makes his way to the counter. I groan.
“Hei! I see you’ve found your boyfriend.” Auty Fai wiggles her brows at me.
“He’s not my boyfri–”
“I’m sorry to trouble you once again Ms. Fai, but there is somewhere I’d love to take my him. Do you mind if I steal him away for an hour?”
“Not at all!”
“I do mind,” I sneer.
“You work too much, Luke.” She laughs, walking around the counter. “With a boyfriend like this, you shouldn’t work so much, eh.”
“Aunty Fai, today is Saturday, I’m sure there are tons of deliveries to make since everyone is home and—”
“Don’t worry your little head about it.” She yanks the yellow vest off my body and begins shoving me toward the door.
My protest falls on deaf ears, and once she’s successful in riding the building of my body, she slams the door shut and locks it.
“Wench,” I curse and shoot my eyes back to Pete. “And you! You’re like a leech! What do you want?”
“I'll have you back within the hour I promise," Pete says. The calmness in his voice a deep contrast to my agitated sharp tone, forcing guilt to wash over me.
With him following behind, I storm to the car and Klause opens the door and shuts it once I am seated. My heart races as I watch Pete walk around the car, an attractive sway in his steps I didn’t notice the night before, the wind in his hair, that weird smile on his lips. I’m terrified. Terrified he’ll see right through this fragile facade I have created to put him off if we remain in an enclosed space for too long. He opens the door and sinks into the space beside me, my fear elevates.
“Comfortable?” His voice is soft with the question.
“As comfortable as a hostage can be,” I snap back, keeping my gaze ahead as a soft laugh comes from him.
“Seat belt,” he says, digging a hand into the space between us. To my surprise, the seat splits to reveal a fridge below and my brows elevate. He sets the ice cream plates down into it and my eyes travel around me in search of the seat belt. It’s nowhere to be found.
In a bid to avoid looking in his direction, I paid no attention to the car when I first entered, but one look and it’s clear I’ve never been inside a vehicle of this caliber my entire life, nothing is where it’s supposed to be and nothing feels like it’s supposed to. I haven’t the slightest clue where to find anything.
The car seat sunk me in. The space between me and the driver's seat up front is enough to fit in a whole ass table. The floor is made of rugs instead of mats. I can’t find the door handle or the button for controlling the windows. Looking straight ahead, there is no ignition, no gear, neither is there any sound coming from the engine.
To refrain from looking stupid in front of Pete—of all people —I keep looking around like I know what the fuck I’m doing, waiting for him to use his own seat belt first so I can catch on.
Pete leans in and my body freezes. Without saying a word, he swipes a finger over a spot on the door and a seat belt icon blinks on. Just as he’s leaning back, I feel a squeeze around my body. The seat belt locks in around my waist. Of course, it’s automated. No wonder he couldn’t wear his own seat belt, everything in his life is probably done for him. He passes me a half smile as he locks in his own seat belt and I move my gaze away.
“You shouldn’t do that to your face,” he says.
“What?”
“Frown too much. You’ll have a permanent squeeze on your forehead.”
I rub my forehead. “I’m not frowning.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Maybe I just don’t find you funny.”
“Should I tell you a joke?”
“No.”
“What is a sleeping dinosaur called?”
Shrugging, I indulge him, “A sleeping dinosaur.”
“Eee! A dino–snore!” he laughs so hard, I see a vein strain by the side of his neck. “Did you get it? Dino–snore.” He laughs harder, throwing his head backward.
I bite the inner part of my cheek to hold back the smile growing on my lips. Not because his corny joke is funny, but rather, his laughter. It’s contagious. The kind of laughter I could easily get lost in. The type of laughter no one can resist joining in on, it starts and everyone else joins in, too. A deeply felt, heartwarming kind of laugh that makes my heart dance.
“You’re not funny,” I lie, any second later and I’ll be laughing too hard.
“Klause wasn’t that funny?”
“Yes, Sir,” a giggling Klause answers from the driver's seat.
“He works for you, he can’t say otherwise.”
“Oh come on, Shortie, there is a smile hiding somewhere there.” He points a finger to the side of my lips and I swat it away.
“It’s not a smile, I’m holding back my repulsion.”
“It’s a smile.”
“No, it's not, you’re not funny.”
“I’m funny and it’s a smile. Do you want to hear another one?”
“I’d rather gouge my eye out.”
“What do you get from a pampered cow?”
“Arghh! I don’t want to hear!”
“Spoilt milk!” he answers and roars another laughter.
I chuckle silently. “What?”
“Do you get it? Eh? Spoilt milk!” He laughs harder and I bury my face in my palm because he is impossible. The cutest impossibility I have ever seen and I’m blushing too hard right now to face him.
The rest of the ride continues in the same manner. Pete has a battalion of corny jokes and each time he tells them, he looks to Klause for validation. I lose track of time until we arrive at what seems to be acres of empty green farmland. Pete fishes out the ice creams and hurries out of the car, calling for me as he makes his way through a short wooden gate. Dragging my feet, I follow.
He is difficult to keep up with, must be all that vampire energy making him so hyper, like a human toddler on a sugar high. He runs back to me and pulls me along so we walk faster and I protest. However, I’m quickly learning telling Pete no only makes him want to do whatever it is I’m refusing even more. He pulls me along until we make it up the hill.
The first thing I see is a row of five abandoned swings at the edge of the hill, facing the stunning skyline of the capital, forcing my heart to do a dance. Swings! I haven’t been on one since before Ma died! Pete runs to them, sets down the ice cream on one swing, and pulls out a handkerchief to clean the others.
I take smaller steps toward him, soaking in the fresh pristine air and breathtaking skyline, surrounded by a fog of grey glittery winter storm. My body shivers from the cold but I couldn’t care less about it. It’s beautiful, everything is beautiful. The city, the skyline, and fluffy-haired Pete in a watermelon pattern sweater.
I’m starting to think I’m in some sort of Bookkpad fanfiction because there is no way in fucking hell, I’m staring at the most beautiful view in the entire Hazalu, with my idol right in front of it, smiling at me like I’m his dream boy. I’ve read too many of those fanfictions to know this can’t be real, and I need whoever decided to write me into this fucking story to stop fucking with me. My heart cannot take it.
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