"Aiden, when you visit, bring me the very yucky chicken."

I exhaled, leaning against an orange tree. The wind was blowing, and the tree's leaves touched my face.

My back ached from five straight days of hauling crates. But hearing Kaiden's clearer voice made me smile. The medicine I bought using Akio's money was effective. And now, I'm trying my best to afford it.

"It's teriyaki. And no, you've had enough grease this week." I said with exhaustion leaking from my voice. I planned to sleep my break off, but obviously, I couldn't, now that he's calling.

"Donuts then? It's bread."

"It's fried, and you shouldn't eat lots of sugar." I could almost see him mocking me as I talked.

"Aiden, c'mon! How boring! You're acting like a boomer." He said, frustrated.

"I'd rather be called one than see you die early."

I was about to say more when someone yelled my name from the field under the hill I sat on.

Farmer Smith, the owner of the orange farm, waved at me.

"Kaiden, I'll call you later, okay?" Then, I hung up.

I ran down the slope, almost tumbling from how fast I was going.

"Yes, Farmer?" I said politely, panting.

Farmer Smith was already old. He used to manage the orange farm alone for years until he got hospitalized last year. Now, I'm the only one working around the farm—running errands and keeping his oranges in good condition.

"Care for tea, son?" He smiled.

Aside from being an errand boy, I've also become his companion. He's always inviting me to drink tea. I don't like tea in any form, but I learned to drink it cause it's hard to say no to the old man.

"Okay, sure."

He invited me to his terrace, and I sat in my usual seat—his dead wife's rocking chair. It was old, but still sturdy.

While he was inside, preparing the cups, I received a text message. I thought it was from Kaiden, but it was from Mr. Unknown Number, also known as Akio, who's been texting me every once in a while since he had my number.

[Unknown Number • 1:08 PM] What are you up to?

Not once have I replied to him.

It's always something unimportant or uninteresting. He was asking about what I'd want to eat if I were free and what time I usually go to bed. It's tempting to block him, but it's nice—having someone out there checking on you. I'll wait until he stops, and I will not even notice that he's over me.

I stuffed my phone inside my pocket as I leaned back on the backrest, staring at the wonderful hill with bright, almost ripe, oranges under the clear skies.

Kaiden would've loved it if he had seen this. If I could sneak him out of the hospital, I'll take him here.

The door opened, and he came out, carrying a tray.

We both drank our tea and chattered. He talked mostly about his life — the things he did in the military, his cats, and the first car he owned. Now he's talking about how he met his wife.

"Her parents chased me with a sickle." He chuckled. "So, we got married behind their backs. We were young, but we had each other."

I laughed along, biting on the orange ice cream we had made yesterday.

"Meeting at eighteen and marrying at nineteen? That's impossible these days. Most people don't even get married even after having two kids." I replied.

"I guess that's true." He paused for a while. "How 'bout you, boy? Do you have someone you're seeing right now?" he asked, which made me snort.

"No..."

"No one under the radar?"

I thought for a moment. When was the last time someone actually thrilled me?

I almost laughed at myself when Akio flashed in my mind — that ridiculous, infuriating night at the club. In my defense, it wasn't an attraction. But it was something disgusting I couldn't name.

"No one."

We talked for more than an hour. He got weaker and sleepier until he passed out in the middle of our conversation.

I've been wanting to nap since noon, but I've got things to do.

I headed back to the field, the air warm and still. The crates were waiting by the truck—the same old one I used for deliveries. I pulled my shirt off and started loading the oranges. My arms protested with every lift, the ache running deep, but I kept going. Work didn't stop just because I was tired.

My phone notified me again. I groaned. I knew it was him.

[Unknown Number • 1:34 PM] I had a bad day. But it's not worse than how my heart aches whenever you leave me on read.

I typed and was about to say, "Shut the fuck up," when I realized—maybe it would make his day if I replied.

His day's gotta suck as it is, and I'm making sure of that.

[Unknown Number • 1:37 PM] Send it. Please.

[Unknown Number • 1:37 PM] What were you about to tell me?

Then, my phone rang. My heart almost leaped out of my chest. This guy doesn't know how to sense disinterest.

I rejected his call.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder why he's bothering me like this every day. I should've been meaner to him back at the hospital.

I leaned against the truck and wiped my face, looking up after seeing an airplane in the sky.

I wish I could go somewhere. Life is good for everyone else.

Why does mine have to be like this? At least it could have been better if I couldn't remember how I almost gave myself up on him. It appears in my dreams and in my mind before I sleep.

The way his annoying round eyes hid behind his glasses, his ridiculously brawny arms, and the way I fit in his hold—what?!

My cheeks burned.

Damn it. I'm thinking about it.

I smacked my forehead. "Forget it. Stupid brain."

My phone rang again. I sighed. What if I tell him to stop bothering me?

I accepted the call, putting the phone against my ear.

"Aiden?" His voice was calm, but he sounded like he had something stuck in his chest, as if he was holding his breath.

"What?" I soullessly replied.

"Let's go out! Remember? Coffee?" His tone immediately came alive.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my legs to settle.

"No. I answered to tell you something important."

I could almost hear him smile, leaning closer, expecting something else entirely.

"What is it?"

"Stop bothering me."

He jokingly whined, then laughed. It also made me smile because of how funny it was to imagine a grown man throwing a tantrum.

"But Aiden! You haven't forgiven me yet!" He paused. "You bug me every day, every night. When I cook breakfast, your face appears in my scrambled eggs! And on the weekends—on my pancakes!"

I took a deep breath, covering my face with my hand. This guy—I don't know if he's joking or just insane.

"I don't care. Say goodbye to me now." I played along with his act.

Silence filled the line for a few seconds before I heard a shaky inhale.

"No," he finally said. Then came the fake sniffles. "I miss you."

I zoned out for a moment. Then, I ended the call after feeling like my heart could escape out of my ribcage.

"Damn you!" I clutched my chest.

How could he say that so casually? Even Kaiden refuses to tell me he misses me.

I hurriedly turned my phone on again and blocked him before he could finish what he was typing. Then, I hopped onto the truck after wearing my shirt back on—I need to finish my delivery instead of letting the thought of him ruin me.

I drove through the wide field—even sang a song at the top of my lungs just to bury the uneasy sensation building up in my throat.

And it was as if I lost focus. I was staring straight ahead. Then—

CRASH!

The whole truck jolted. My seatbelt locked against my chest.

It was too late when I noticed I was driving towards Farmer Smith's huge welcome sign.

I froze, hearing it crack under the truck's weight.

He told me it was important. His wife painted that sign for him five decades ago.

"Well done, Finch," I whispered to myself, weakly leaning on the steering wheel.

I can't lose this job, and I'm afraid of disappointing Farmer Smith!

I don't even want to step out to check how badly I broke it.

Back at the club, it was Akio's fault I got fired—now if I get fired, it's still his. He's like a vacuum of good luck. Maybe that's why he always wears black clothes—like a black cat rubbing on people's legs.

And of course. I need to report this to Farmer Smith.

I drove back and nervously told him about what had happened.

He wasn't mad, but he wasn't happy either.

"Well, Aiden. If it was an accident, there's no one to blame." He said, his hands on his back. "It was sad, really. It's been standing there for fifty years. I guess we have to say goodbye to everything, even to innocent signs."

What he said made me inhale sharply. Everything about this is making me feel guilty.

"What should we do about this, Farmer?" I asked, fidgeting with my hands. "You could deduce my salary."

He raised a finger close to my face. "Don't say that. I'll handle this on my own." Then, he turned his back on me, slowly heading back to his house. "I'll just find someone who creates signs. While you just work like normal."

Something in what he said struck me.

Someone who creates signs? It was a painted sign. So basically, someone who paints?

I grabbed my phone in my pocket and stared at this recently blocked number.

This would ruin my pride, but what choice do I have? Besides, he was so eager to be forgiven. This is his only chance.

I unblocked the number, hesitating before hitting the call button.

It took him a couple of rings before picking up, but he answered in the same uplifted tone.

"Aiden! You called!"