Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

• [DAY 01]

I haven’t kept up with maintaining a journal since I was 10, I must’ve thought it to be too tedious to keep up with. But ever since I started working, I thought I’d keep one anyways. My mother is always telling me to make use of the empty notebooks I have lying around, so I have decided to refurbish an unused memo book as a makeshift journal. 

Hopefully I don’t start neglecting it as I have in my youth. Let’s see; what to write first. Well, seeing as this journal is a part of me, I might as well impart some information onto this parchment-filled companion. I am the only son of a seamstress and a fruit merchant, very little social standing but the Archons blessed me with the smarts to help me get through school. I’ll skip the details about the bullies and the constant running for my life at the age of 6-7 years old and go straight to my measly job of a seamstress’ assistant. 

Okay, not actually measly. It’s an honest living, and a family business. My cousin Claudia has been offering her assistance to my mother for years, I grew up seeing her make deliveries and chatting up customers. I also find it ironic that she and I keep getting mistaken for siblings when we clearly have different parents, not to mention we are polar opposites: Claudia enjoys the outdoors, and I prefer to remain indoors. Do I crave friendship? Somewhat. But I’m old enough to realize some people are not worth interacting with. Well, except for Oliver. Despite being a Kingsman kin, his behavior is remarkable compared to the so-called elite children of Fontaine. 

And the fact that I was able to befriend him after half a decade of misunderstandings really says a lot doesn’t it? We keep in touch every now and then, but with Oliver inheriting the Kingsman Law Firm - he’s often hopping from one building to the other like an agitated Electro slime. I would be lucky to get more than three sentences before being left in the dust, but who am I to try and understand the intricate schedules of an attorney? And with Fontaine’s laws being harder to understand than Liyue's - it also explains his sleepless nights and the dark circles protruding beneath his eyes. One of these days, I’m going to treat that man to dinner and make sure he stays awake long enough to eat it; Folcalor help me. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 03]

Claudia and her friends stopped by the shop today, one of them was a hoity-toity little miss with cocoa brown hair and olive eyes. Archon knows how she found her way into Claudia’s social circle but this girl started chirping like a songbird in the lobby of the shop. Even though I was working in the back, the sewing machine did little to block out the incessant giggling. Judging by their conversation, this girl was going goo-goo for one of the upper-class sons of Fontaine and needed ‘the ultimate gown to highlight her regality’. And classic Claudia, she would bring this shrilled creature to our family’s shop and not the dozen boutiques that exist in the city. Perhaps she thinks our family needs free advertising from the upper crust, and I refuse to get involved. However, fate was not on my side and somehow I * did * become involved, because there my cousin was - advertising my designs to her friend and really selling it that I could make her ‘best friend’ an original custom dress that nobody in Fontaine has ever seen. Thank you for throwing me under the carriage, dear cousin. I’ll remember to get back at her for this. I felt like I was being scrutinized before I even got to formally shake hands with my ‘customer’ , her eyes scanning me from head to toe in a bid to assess if I’m ‘worthy enough’ of sewing her a gown. I was tempted to charge more than I usually do for custom orders, but I didn’t want Claudia’s friend to get the wrong idea about me - more importantly, the family’s business as a whole. 

“Your cousin knows how to sew?”, was the first thing she uttered while making eye contact with me. Yes, you filthy little creature. I do know how to sew. I sewed the suit I’m wearing right now. Claudia could see the furrow in my brows, like the good cousin she is; she tries to deflect the scrutiny and even promote my work (or lack thereof, apparently I’ve been told by past customers my designs are ‘too out there’). The little miss eventually got off her high horse and began giving me an earful of references she wanted for her ‘ultimate gown’, she took a look at our fabrics and was ‘generous’ enough (I use the term loosely) to import us some silk to help give the gown a delicate touch. Even asked what my rates were for custom jobs, when I told her I didn’t have rates because I rarely get custom orders - she became flabbergasted. According to Claudia, her hoity-toity ‘bestie’ isn’t used to walking into a store without a concrete price tag, nor has she met any seamster who uses budget fabric to make clothing. (She’s clearly never been to Mondstadt). 

Long story short, I named my price of 250,000 Mora - she seemed almost insulted and demanded I raise it higher because she was willing to import not only silk, but extra accents like beads and ribbons. I caved and raised it up to 850,000 Mora, she accepted. She needed that dress in two and a half months, and the fabric would arrive from Liyue in the next six weeks. Guess I’d better get to work. What in Archon’s name did you sign me up for, Claudia? 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 16] 

I ran into Oliver again this morning while running an errand for my mother, he seemed tired but was beaming. Either he’s gone completely insane from the workload, or he was getting ready to wrap up a huge case with one of his clients. I caught him at the foot of the staircase outside his law firm building, and offered to buy him something sweet to munch on from the city bakery but he politely declined. He didn’t seem to be in any big hurry, but looked to be catching a breather, so I asked him if there’s anything he wanted to talk about (anything he can legally say to me, at least). Oliver looked at me in the eyes, which was odd of him to do, and said it concerned his family. Immediately I got worried: Did his sisters get booed off-stage during their performance? Did his older brother get attacked by a hired gun by an opponent of his client? (highly impossible since he’s always with an entourage) - it’s like Oliver read my mind and told me it was nothing immensely bad. Just that he was given a large amount of information about an underground family operation in a matter of a couple hours, and he is still processing it all; he also wasn’t sure if his father wanted him to spearhead this operation as well. He told me he stormed off before any more information could be relayed to him. Sounds to me like it’s pretty looming, and Oliver’s got enough on his hands just being an attorney, sounds to me like he needs all the help he can get. Before I could say anything to him, a member of his entourage came to beckon him back inside. We bid goodbye and I returned home with the groceries. 

Why do I have this uneasy feeling in the back of my mind? Did I want to help? Yes, but what can someone like me even do to help? Treat the man to dinner? Sure, if he doesn’t decide to eat at home or order food in. Volunteer to help with paperwork? There’s no way I’d be able to understand all those law lingo overnight.

Maybe I can get in contact with some of my family’s customers, see if any of them are willing to be Oliver’s personal assistant. Everybody knows an assistant handles more work than a secretary, and with two people at the helm - that’s two birds with one stone. I’m very sure I met a customer who came in as recently as two days ago whose daughter was looking for a job in either a secretarial role or a personal assistant. I believe her name was Samantha Beaufort? Anyways - It’s a foolproof plan, or rather - a nice gesture. I’d like to see one of those snobbish elites go out of their way to do something genuinely caring for a friend. 

I probably should put the journal down for a while, I’m burning the midnight oil at the moment and I’d like to get the designs done before dawn. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 18] 

I decided to pay Lysandre a visit at the Forêt d’Amour today. Sometimes looking at flowers helps me find inspiration for my next design. If not, I just like coming in to chat and sniff the roses. But Mrs. Dubois looked worried as she manned the cashier, but she tried to keep a chipper attitude about her as customers came to pay for their purchases. Speaking of purchases, since I was there I might as well bring something home - so I bought a pack of Cecilia seeds, I hear they’re quite easy to care for. The moment I reached the counter, Mrs. Dubois almost lost her composure as she rang my order. I managed to catch her whisper that Lysandre was upstairs in his room, she wanted me to go check up on him. That doesn’t sound like the kid at all. I’ve known him since he was two years old, I’m practically his older brother, so for the kid to be a no-show during work hours is suspicious. 

As it turns out, the kid’s been holed up in his room all night. Trays of food sat outside his room, bowls and plates empty of food scraps and there was about an inch of water left in his glass. He probably only ate when everyone else had left. I tried knocking the door, only to be startled by a loud “Go away!!” - I tried again, this time addressing my name and not any other member of his family. That’s all it took for him to unlock the door, allowing me to enter - I wish I had been mentally prepared to see and hear what came next. The kid had just gotten back from a long trip in Mondstadt, picking up a special order for a customer (this part I was informed of because he came to personally say goodbye before he left). But upon return, his uncle and mother dumped this whole information about his dad onto him. I watched tears roll down his cheeks, hiccuping every other word, and fists clenched into a ball. He told me he felt emotionally conflicted; ‘ angry and sad but also confused ’ as he worded it. 

Turns out the leech that took Lysandre’s father from him had been all over Teyvat: The Fatui. I never trusted that organization and I’m surprised they even have supporters. I took Lysandre into my arms and hugged him as tight as humanly possible, all his life he’s never known his old man or where he’d disappeared to. But now, armed with vengeance and a Vision - he’s not going to stop until he has every agent, nay, maybe even the Tsaritsa on their knees. Archons above, first Oliver and now this. What am I going to do? 

What I can do at that moment? Convince Lysandre to leave his room and take a bath, and hell, maybe open the curtains and let some sunlight in. It was so pitched black in there, his bedside lamp could only do so much. The little brat dared to give me an unamused groan, I proceeded to hit him across the shoulder with my fedora. No one groans at me like that and gets away unscathed. I told him if he doesn’t get off his bed, I’m going to drag him to the bathroom and wash him myself, he’s never gotten up quicker in his life. At least he’s more obedient than his nephews. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 24]

The imported silk from Liyue arrived here earlier than I expected. I was told it would arrive in six weeks, but it was delivered at the shop's doorstep in three. Along with it were two crates of embellishment, the so-called accents for this gown. I’d stick a picture of my design into my journal if I could, but it would be consuming too much space so I won’t. But by the Archons, this thing is going to look extremely gaudy. I did my best to suggest muted fabrics to even out the brightness, but I guess being a walking target passes for a fashion trend nowadays. (I sound extremely hypocritical considering I wear a royal purple suit, but I digress). I got to work on the gown without a moment’s notice: doors locked, windows slightly ajar so I can still breathe, and I put on the record player (yes I’m well aware some people work better with silence, but a little music never hurt anyone). 

I made sure to put up a sign on my workshop door asking I not be disturbed unless it was for lunch and dinner reminders, yes, that courtesy also extended out to Claudia - considering I’m in this mess because of her. Sweet mercy, the layers I had to sew: the crinoline, three layers petticoat, custom-made corset, and not to speak of the sleeves and the amount of frou-frou frills. Bless my mannequins, they’re a couple years old but they continue to stand with me and this ridiculously large garment. 

But while I worked, I was surprised to know that Lysandre came looking for me this time. He rarely stops by the shop. My mother passed on his message: he came to thank me for coming to comfort him, and that he’s doing better now. Also he wanted a sneak peek at what I was working on. Fat chance, plant boy. Only the client gets to see a work in progress, and knowing my work speed, he probably won’t even get to see the finished product. I don’t say that to be mean, but its store policy that only the customer gets to witness their garment being made from start to finish - not to mention the process of re-taking measurements and adjustments and the fittings. I don’t enjoy the process, and I doubt anyone accompanying her doesn't enjoy watching it either. 

With any luck, I should have the hemlines sewn by either tonight or dawn of the next day. You’d be surprised how fast I sew by hand, but I will need to turn my record player off soon. My father and uncle are light-sleepers. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 25]

The hemlines are just about done, considering that this took me all night till the crack of 4am the next day I’m just going to sit back and catch up on some writing. Turns out, after Lysandre left - Oliver came looking for me. He thought I would be skulking around the front of his law firm building waiting to lecture him to go eat dinner or get some sleep. Do I lecture him? I scolded him, I’ll admit that. When alerted of my absence, he thought to drop by thinking I was sick in bed. Why can’t all elites be this thoughtful? Oliver came bearing gifts too, apparently a relative of his had just gotten back from Sumeru and brought some handmade wind chimes during their travels. He left me two: one for me, and the other for the ‘nice florist boy with green highlights in his hair’. So he does know Lysandre and I frequently socialize, I should be surprised but I’m also not. Lysandre is pretty popular, not just looks, but in terms of manners as well - to this day I’m still jabbing at how he’s too much of a softy to turn away his admirers; even though their swarming makes him uncomfortable. 

There, I had my fun. I should get some breakfast while I’m at it. I should also be hearing footsteps coming downstairs by 4:20am - that’s usually when my father and uncle get up in preparation for their stall at the market. Ah, the life of a couple fruit vendors. That would’ve been my career path if I had decided to not pick up sewing when I was 10. Best decision I’ve ever made according to my father, because now he’s too scared to handle any liquids (and food) around me; “I don’t want to trip and accidentally spill them onto your suit son, you worked so hard on it”. Any praise is high praise indeed. Perhaps I can catch a snooze, a relatively quick one. I can always stick a note on the door asking someone to come wake me in the next five or so hours; I intend to get this dress out of my hair (or 90% of the way done) so I can have some breathing room. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 26]

I fell asleep for an entire day. So much for getting only five or so hours of sleep. I woke up the next day around noon feeling quite groggy and asked why no one had come. Mother and Claudia were making lunch and were blunt enough to inform me I’d been neglecting sleep. Naturally I protested that it had only been one day - and my mother, bless her heart, retorted to my protest with ‘ one day is more than enough to ruin your health ’. I swore I caught a glimpse of Claudia smirking. She’s lucky I’m too tired and hungry to strangle the life out of her, not to mention I need a bath. Goodness me, I hope I’m not letting myself go. 

While I washed, I had the window slightly ajar and wouldn’t you know it - the neighbors are talking about this upcoming party for Fontaine elites coming up in the next month or so. With that piece of information in mind, I began to wonder about my latest client; Claudia’s hoity-toity best friend - she came to request a dress a month ago. What are the chances she would be going to the same party? I would have to interrogate Claudia, which wouldn’t be too difficult considering she doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. I say this with the utmost affection for my cousin, but we all have that loudmouth relative. 

I can still hear her downstairs, she must not have left to be with her friends yet. Good. This’ll take but a few minutes. Then I’ll have all the information I need. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 30]

A lot of things happened in the last four days I was absent to update. But I should go in order of which event occurred first: I did indeed interrogate Claudia regarding her best friend and that infamous dress that’s been costing me my sleep; and to keep it simple she confirmed my suspicions. Her ‘bestie’ was the daughter of an old schoolmate, last name Bernstein. Just hearing the name brought back oh-so many beautiful memories; my lunchbox being trampled, the feeling of fruit juice being poured down the back of my shirt, and the echoing of that obnoxious laughter. Now I see who this daughter gets it from; and having the unfortunate pleasure of knowing her father in my youth; the apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree.

Secondly; I took one night off from the dress to treat Oliver to dinner at a nearby tavern, which was usually busy but on this particular night, it was very light on people. Neither of us were drinkers, so Oliver and I had some Sticky Honey Roast with a side of iced tea to settle us in. Long story short, I told Oliver (or rather, suggested) to go find an assistant; if not I could recommend someone I know for him. He can’t possibly handle the workload by himself, and I’d rather he have help. I can’t possibly stand to see him looking like a corpse every time we meet up. I made the mistake of sipping my tea because this man suddenly rose from his tired stupor and asked if I wanted the position. Luckily, my spit-take hit the plate and not anywhere else. Me, a seamster, as a legal assistant! He needs to lay off the Honey Roast. I asked Oliver if he’s lost his mind, but he insisted. ‘ There’s a vacancy! ’ he said with an unusual burst of glee in his voice. My guess? He’s so overworked he doesn’t want to go through the hassle of screening for the ‘perfect’ legal assistant, so he’s choosing the one person who still makes a conscious effort to keep in touch with him; that person being me. 

Again, what was he thinking? I have no formal law education. Sure I’ve read a few law books out of curiosity in the past but it’s not as cookie cutter as most would think. Law is tricky. I rephrase: Fontaine law is tricky. For Archon’s sake, why didn’t I say no? He looked so desperate for help. The salary better be worth it, because this is going to be a huge transition for me, not to mention this’ll spark a really big debate between my parents. I told Oliver to give me a few days to mull it over, I’ve never seen him so happy. I swear that smile of his did something to me, cuz I came home feeling really light. 

Third and lastly, Claudia decided to pitch in and help me with the Bernstein girl’s dress. She was scared of using the sewing machine, so I gave her something smaller to do. We talked long into the night, I didn’t mention Oliver’s offer to her - best to save that for morning. Tonight I was just glad to have some help, even if Claudia only lasted till midnight before passing out. To be expected of someone who's usually in bed earlier than I am. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 32]

The dress was nearing its completion; and per our arrangement, the Bernstein girl came in for her final fitting this morning. I still think it looks gaudy, but she practically squealed at how ‘elegant and out there’ it was. Far be it for me to offer criticism when this is exactly what the client wanted word for word. I, despite being half awake and needing coffee, inquired for any final touches. And was promptly told it was already perfect. Take that, past customers. Someone does like my ‘too out there’ design. I thanked the little miss for the compliments and told her I’d do a final re-check of all the seams and look for any last minute imperfections before shipping the dress to her estate. 

Surprising that I got this dress done in a matter of a month, but I’ve been told I usually take between a couple weeks to a month to finish a project. Perhaps it’s an unconscious schedule I give myself. But no matter - now I have room to breathe. The final checks will take me no more than half a day, and I’ll personally deliver the dress with Claudia. In the meantime, I might as well find something to do (besides updating my journal). Maybe I can toy around with my fedora. I really hate the blue band around its body, and I could make the crease a bit more centered. It could use a little red. The same shade of red from my waist sash (it’s typically called a cumberbund but I enjoy calling it a waist sash). I think I still have that red fabric lying around, a little amount will do. 

After I’m done I think I’ll take my new fedora out for a spin, maybe stop by the courthouse and show it off to Oliver (who is, no doubt, still waiting for a reply to his offer). And I’ve yet to bring it up with my family. I can hear all of them in the sitting room, so I guess that’s my plan for the evening. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 33]

I didn’t end up leaving the house last night, nor have I started working on my fedora. That talk with my family lasted all the way through dinner. Father and uncle were overjoyed, somewhat, at the prospect of me finding a new job with higher pay. Claudia was indifferent, she thinks I should do what’s best for me (classic Claudia), and mother looked concerned. I’m unsure if this is one of those ‘baby bird leaving the nest’ scenarios, because it’s not that she doesn’t trust Oliver - she’s run into him a few times and thinks he’s a sweetheart. 

So I decided to have a sit-down with her in the living room after dinner, and I won’t lie and say I didn’t get watery-eyed. ‘ It’ll be so quiet not hearing you and your sewing machine running from dawn to dusk ’ - she’s a mother, what can you do? I assured her I’m not going anywhere, I’ll still return home to her when my new schedule relinquishes me, and that my higher pay means we could upgrade the shop any way she likes. She retorted with a rather obvious response; ‘ I just want my little boy to come spend time with me every now and then ’. Archons above, I’m crying again just writing this, I need to get it together or the ink will smudge. 

But it does give me a sense of ease that my family supports this sudden change, even if working in law was the last thing they expected of me. I guess Oliver shall have his reply soon. I should pop over to his law firm with a nice surprise. He’d like that. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 35] 

Lysandre and I convened for our weekly get-together at our usual cafe today, albeit a few days late. He mostly vented, but I enjoyed listening to him. Ever since getting his Vision, he’s becoming remarkably more confident - a Dendro Vision, how fitting of his position as a florist. He mostly conjured thorn covered vines (how sharp those thorns are depends on Lysandre’s mood). He whines that he wished he had somewhere to practice his powers in a more ‘creative’ and ‘combative’ way if he were to take down the Fatui, but can’t risk going somewhere secretive to train without drawing suspicions from the peacekeepers. I jokingly told him he can always pack up and go to Sumeru to be ‘one with nature’. He didn’t take the jab very well. 

He got to ask what happened to me these last few days, and I told him about Oliver’s job offer for me to become his legal assistant, the boy nearly spat his hot cocoa. He looked at me with those wide questioning eyes. I broke the tension by telling him I hadn’t given Oliver an answer yet, and he breathed a sigh of relief. First my mother, and now him? I don’t know, I guess it just feels strange knowing someone’s afraid for you - and it’s not that they don’t trust me. But I’ve been told I have a habit of taking a given task too seriously that I start neglecting myself - that was how my seamster career started; my first official client and I burnt the midnight oil by not sleeping for a week. I was classified as an insomniac, but I digress. 

Lysandre then suggested we both go to the law firm together so I can give Oliver my answer. Considering it's only been five days, I was hoping to mull over it a few days more. If anyone’s wondering; no, we weren’t able to catch Oliver in his office. Vanished like a snowflake to the first heat of summer. There’s always tomorrow. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 40] 

I’ve begun neglecting my journal entries. But to keep it brief, since my last entry I managed to catch up to Oliver for dinner again. He looked so exhausted that any piece of good news would cheer him up. The good news being that I have accepted his offer, and I can start working come next weekday - he practically leapt off his chair at me. I asked if his law firm had a dress code, and he told me my purple suit was perfect. And that’s history. 

For the last five days, work has been rather manic. I finally came face to face with Oliver’s workload and suddenly my sympathy for him multiplied ten folds. His network is massive. I've found myself handling documents, organizing schedules for other attorneys and their clients, confirming court dates, double-checking and proofreading case files. It’s a lot of reading in layman’s terms. The perk of all this? I got to be in the big boss’s office. Oh yes, per Oliver’s request - I got my own desk and set of bookshelves near the front door of his large office. 

Not going to lie, I really like it. I know the other attorneys don’t like having to talk to legal assistants, they especially don’t like having to talk to me. Because, not only do they have to come track me in Oliver’s office, they have to watch what they say because Oliver’s usually sitting at his desk 70% of the day. Can’t let the big boss know you physically hate my guts, can you? I can’t help but be smug sometimes. Well guess what, if they dislike me then the feeling is mutual. And I have no issue saying it to their faces. For the record, I told Oliver this, word for word, and he laughed. He says he finds it cute. 

Ha. He finds my smugness cute. His smile, his laugh, he thinks I’m cute. Am I going insane or is a pattern forming? I may need to speak to Claudia when I get home tonight, assuming she’s still awake when I wrap up here. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 43]

According to Claudia, I may have developed a crush on Oliver. It sounds so absurd. Is it not admiration, some sort of platonic affection? Nothing? She concludes it all on a crush? And she had the gall to be really giddy about it. There’s absolutely nothing to be excited about. It’s not like I plan on marrying the man, he’s from a high profile family! It would only make sense for him to go after some little miss whose father is just itching to marry her off. But what if it’s true? What if this is some unrequited love story waiting to happen? 

What am I saying? I’m supposed to be greeting a client in the next half hour and I’m over here wondering if I have a crush on my employer! Should I just come out with it? Should I keep it to myself? Archons above, why is this bothering me so much! Who could I even confine to that’s not a member of my family? Lysandre? He’s not the talkative type, I just have to make him swear on his life not to tell anyone until I say so. Simple.  

It sounds simple on paper, but executing it could be tough. I feel butterflies in my stomach, it feels so strange. And now I’ve begun to sweat. I should go clean up before the client gets here, hopefully this takes my mind off of THIS . 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 47]

It was unusually quiet in the office today, which was a nice change of pace. But considering I’ve not been working here long, I shouldn’t get used to it. While I relish the peace, I also dread the thoughts that appear when it becomes too quiet. I’m still considering what I wrote in my last entry four days ago, I’ve been silently re-reading it repeatedly until it was ingrained into my head. Oliver was at his desk going over his own work, which was good because didn’t notice me constantly looking at him throughout the day. 

My face looks so flushed, no wonder the front desk asked if I was coming down with a fever, I’m so red! I can only hide my face for so long before Oliver spots me. He’s definitely going to ask. What do I say, that my face is red because I’m stressed? He’d never buy into that. I’m red because I’m actually coming down with a fever but I don’t feel light-headed?

If I keep this up, I’m never going to have peace. I should say it. I should get up from my chair right now and say it. Everything be damned. If he reciprocates, then good on me. If not, it will hurt but nobody can tell me I didn’t at least try. And trying is half the journey, as my father once said. Here goes nothing. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 53]

Six days since my last entry, how embarrassing. But perhaps that was a good thing. Because things just– I can’t even put into words. Continuing from my last entry, I didn’t immediately get up from my chair. It took another hour of convincing myself to stand up, but my body wouldn’t move. Is this normal? Is it normal for one’s body to not respond to one’s thoughts, to continue to stew about it because it's scared of what’s to come? I felt nervous, staring down at the pile of paper even though I wasn’t physically writing on it, nor was I reading it. 

My red face didn’t catch Oliver’s attention, it was my facing down and ‘looking frightened’ that had him racing for my desk. When you become nervous, it’s like your ears begin to pick up on every little sound. His footsteps on the carpet had a louder thud, his voice from the far corner of the office was so crystal clear as if he were already standing next to me, and his hand on my shoulder nearly made me jump. 

‘What happened, did a client file a complaint?’ was the first thing that I heard. I flinched, and looked towards him with wide eyes, shaking my head like a madman. He stops, his grip on my shoulder becoming more firm. I’ve never seen such seriousness in his eyes, it was intimidating but at the same time, really captivating. ‘Did something happen at home?’ was his next question. I, once again, shook my head. Now both hands were on each of my shoulders, so this is what being cornered feels like. There’s only so much redness my face could produce before I started looking like an unripe Valberry.

He stood so close to me, unbelievably close. Was he trying to read my expression? Was he analyzing me? All I knew was - my heart was ready to burst out of my chest. My mouth reacted before my mind and I blurted it out. I barely caught myself, covering my mouth with both hands and backed off my chair in a panic. Oliver rose up and stared at me. I couldn’t tell if it was the glow from the sunlight or if it was Oliver’s own face but– he was blushing! He tried coming closer but everything in my body was telling me to make a run for it. 

And that’s what I did. I took off and ran all the way back home. I left my fedora, my briefcase, and dignity behind at that office. It has been six days since I went back to work. How was I not fired yet? Easy. My father stopped by the Kingsman Law Firm the following morning to inform Oliver that I had come down with a bad cold, and that I’d be bedridden for a couple days. I didn’t tell my family what happened, just that I was feeling run down and blacked out in the middle of the living room. My heart has been racing like crazy since, and it hasn’t stopped. Oliver made attempts to come visit me, but I feigned being asleep and had my poor mother deal with him. I feel like such a horrible son. 

I haven’t been sleeping very well either, I’m scared of how my running away could impact Oliver’s perception of me. This sense of dread has been eating me alive night and day, and it won’t stop taunting me. ‘ Rejection is at hand, you were a fool to believe your heart ’ - at this rate I definitely will become ill. I should try to get some sleep, even if it’s for five or ten minutes. Some shut eye is better than none. 

~*~*~*~

• [DAY 54]

I actually managed to get some semblance of sleep last night, it was almost miraculous what with all the thoughts running rampant through my head. But for some reason I feel empty inside. Emotionally empty. My mother chalked it up to me still not feeling well, she tried to bring me food and asked if I wanted to sew anything for fun - I refused both. I only asked for tea while I huddled in my hole. The feeling of warm liquid streaming down my throat, the warmth expanding down my body and into my stomach was very comforting; like a temporary hug. I guess that’s why I kept asking for refills. 

Claudia was out all day today with her friends, but I was surprised to find her knocking on my door. I asked if she wanted something from me, and she said she wanted to ‘check up on me’. She closed the door, sat on my bed next to me and asked if everything was alright. And that was all it took for my emotions to come rushing back, still water that waited for a gust of wind to make a tidal wave. I sobbed like a baby, which may have disturbed Claudia. She pulled me into her arms and rubbed my back and my shoulder. I told her what happened at the office, with Oliver - telling her what a delusional fool I was to believe someone like him would ever return my affection.

She didn’t interrupt, she didn’t give any sarcastic remarks. She just hugged me, comforting me with a hushed voice. My sobs dimmed into a pathetic whimper, I felt the dryness in my eyes and the stream of tears that traveled down my cheeks and trickled down my chin. Claudia wiped my face clean with her handkerchief, apologizing to me that it didn’t work out how I had hoped, and if her excitement had somehow pressured me into making a confession when I wasn’t emotionally ready. The latter part wasn’t her fault. It was mine. But I suppose I couldn’t go hiding it forever. I knew I was going to crack sooner or later, and I did. 

This is probably the closest I’ve ever been with Claudia since we were children, before we both grew up and grew apart due to our different lifestyles, tastes, and whatnot. I asked if she could stay with me until I fell asleep, and if she’d also wake me up for dinner. She obliged. It felt nice to have her around. I should pay her back with a present, it’s the least I can do. 

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• [DAY 56]

I was well enough to get outta bed now, all that time in bed wondering what went wrong and having a good sob really helped clear my head. I feel like I can return to work tomorrow, but at the same time the thought of having to face Oliver still bugged me like a bad itch. Claudia is still keeping close to me, which is nice. I do feel slightly selfish keeping her indoors with me when her friends are out there in the city doing whatever it is girls do. 

I made sure to avoid any windows while I did housework, folks in our neighborhood still thought I was bedridden and I’d like to keep it that way. Less people are coming to bother me (I make an exception for Lysandre and his mother because I consider them family). However, around noon - I was startled witless when I peered my head out the living room window to get some fresh air. Oliver was poking his head around, he looked to be holding something in his right hand but I didn’t manage to get a glimpse - nor did I want to. I’ve never shut a window on anyone so fast. Even as I made a sprint upstairs I can still hear Oliver’s voice calling me to come talk to him. How wondrous - now Oliver knows I'm no longer confined in bed. My only hope now is Claudia. She definitely heard me slam the window shut. 

I just need Claudia to convince him to leave. This is happening so fast. It’s not too late for me to jump back into bed, I should have some sort of story to corroborate my reason for being out of bed. Look at me! A legal assistant trying to come up with a white lie!

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• [DAY 57] 

Update from yesterday’s debacle. Oliver was quite insistent from what Claudia tells me, but he couldn’t dawdle all afternoon. What’s peculiar was the item he was holding in his hand, it was a bouquet. He bought me a bouquet? Or did he buy a bouquet and was on his way to meet a woman, but decided to come visit me? That made absolutely no sense. I asked Claudia to leave the bouquet in the living room so I can arrange them in a proper vase. It was beautifully wrapped in a shimmering baby blue parchment paper - held together by a red ribbon and bow; and the contents of the bouquet were Cecilias and Glaze Lilis with some small Silk Flowers settling in between for accents. 

How did he find out that I like Cecilias? Did Lysandre say something to him, or was it my mother? But what would they gain from giving Oliver this piece of information? I dare say I sat thinking about this all night till lunch this morning. Now that bouquet is staring from the corner of the living room, as if taunting me to inquire about its origin. My uncle Antonio, on his way out to the market, caught me eyeballing the bouquet and asked what’s so interesting about it. Keeping it as short as possible, and with some undetectable hints; my uncle nodded and patted my back. This was what he said to me: “ You know Monroe. I don’t know much about gift-giving, but if someone came all this way to give you something - it would give them the wrong idea if you keep avoiding them ”. 

I wanted to defend my stand, but I knew there was no point. It is currently 15:33, Oliver should still be at the office. Hell, he should still be there after work hours, I’ve never known him to clock out on time. I need to do this. No more hiding, I’ve done enough of that. If this bouquet really is for me, then it should be confirmation enough that all this worry only existed in my head. I should also thank uncle Antonio on the way out. 

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