0.27|when observing curious happenings|

0.27|from Sabah's recorder: when observing curious happenings|

You think I am a stalker? No, no, I am just a connoisseur of love, just an observer of curious happenings, you could say. Don't laugh, you wouldn't have a story if I wasn't like this!

So what if I was indeed less concerned about the order and more concerned about how Auburn kept on flipping a red pen between her fingers?

We were all coming to a moment. Something I had foreseen as a great moment, the moment.

The moment was slow in happening, not that I can call it a great moment after happened because, you see, it didn't happen the way I imagined it would.

There he was, watching the dance of her fingers, trying to control some sort of emotion that seeped across his features anyway.

"You look pale. Are you okay?" Auburn asked, lines of worry creasing over her face as she bent forward to place a palm over his forehead. Her hand shook slightly as realized how close they were despite the small round table separating them. Their eyes met and a pink stained each of their cheeks. Sheesh.

He shook his head, leaned back and smiled a small smile but a smile nevertheless, "Just a headache from worrying over some possible bad news that my agent has hinted at but apart from that I'm okay."

I was interested now. He didn't usually lie. He didn't look okay; he looked horribly worried and nervous. Yes, even more so than usual.

Before Auburn could ask him what it was, he continued in a lighter tone, "How about you? Apart from bumping into me and nearly drilling a hole in my chest, what are you up to?"

For God's sake, stop changing the conversation so much!

Auburn looked relieved and glanced at me with a smirk, as if to convey that he hadn't heard our conversation. Which part was she worried about, I wondered?

"How was the away match?" she asked in turn.

"Good," he nodded, apparently happy at the change of subject. "The guys are amazing. You should see them play."

"I do see them play."

"Live," he added.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine, Mr. Famous Footballer." She sighed, "I wish my colleagues could be called amazing. The atmosphere in the staff room hasn't been that chilly but Gonzales definitely called me puta in a very vicious way today. Any ideas for Spanish swears I can reply with?"

Who the hell was this Gonzales and how dare she call Auburn puta? Were people not taught manners these days?

"No, but I can ask Sergio. He's good with Spanish swearing. I'm sure-" he broke off as his phone rang. His fingers wavered, as he debated whether to pick it up. "Sorry, I got to take this," he grimaced.

"Go ahead."

"Bjorn, how are you?--Yeah, I'm in Madrid now--Yes, yes.--Oh what's up then? Is he seriously transferring here?--Oh. Which team?--No, I don't care. Just curious.--...--Barcelona!? Oh God.--Yeah, thanks for letting me know. Goodbye."

"Anthony?"

I stopped at the way she said his name. Controlled, concerned, worried; just a door ajar from a scream.

His eyes were unfocused as he shook his fingers out of her hand and backed away the chair, its uncontrollable shriek echoing garishly across the place.

The murmurs of the two tables across the different ends of the restaurant dropped to a pin-drop aghast silence as Anthony breathlessly muttered something incomprehensible before bolting out.

"What did he say?" I asked, hurriedly wiping my hands at the edge of my apron, shooing away the gaze of curious customers.

"I-I don't know. I swear, it wasn't anything I did," she said, still shocked, as the two of followed him.

He was on the sidewalk, doubled over, wheezing badly.

We didn't even need to look at each other. We just knew.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Auburn knelt beside him quickly holding his face in her hands. "It is okay. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out, okay? Just—look at me, Anthony!"

I stopped rubbing his back as the sting of her clear sharp voice broke the air.

Anthony opened his eyes.

"Stop panicking. Breathe, just breathe." Her voice softened, "Breathe with me," she said, inhaling deeply and exhaling. "C'mon, try it."

I couldn't help but count her breaths with mine. In that moment, all I wanted was to hurt whoever had done this Anthony, whoever had said or done something so awful that he couldn't fucking breathe. I was shocked by how intense this emotion was. These two, they were my responsibility. They were my family. And I was their shield.

His breathing calmed slowly as he listened to Auburn's voice and imitated her breathing pattern. His body lost its tension and he closed his eyes, sighing tiredly before running a hand over his face and sitting down on the pavement.

"Sorry," he whispered.

I flinched. I had seen my fair share of people and there was nothing worse than someone who apologized for their sorrow because it meant that someone sometime had made them feel like a burden for breaking apart, for feeling like the aftermath of hurricane-struck landscape.

No one calls down a hurricane. No one wants to feels this way. No one wants to willingly jump into a storm or a fire. To apologize for your tears is to apologize for your existence and no one...no one should ever be sorry for endeavouring to travail across whatever patch the expanse of the universe has written for us.

"Don't," I said. "Don't you ever say sorry like that."

He looked so defeated, so unlike himself and I was ashamed for having always thought of him as his happiest self, for what he allowed of himself to appear before the world, for thinking of him as always a shard of sunlight while forgetting that shards have sharp edges...edges that have a thousand refractive points; sharp, destructive and painful.

"My brother just signed a deal with Barcelona," he said by way of explanation, thinking aloud more than addressing any of us.

I glanced at Auburn.

"And you are at Real Madrid!" Auburn said. "You are the best player in the midfield in the league, probably even the world, and everyone loves you out there. Mikhail is just going to be a newbie here. You, you are Anthony Kroff. The Anthony Kroff."

He laughed coldly, "No, he's the Mikhail Kroff, I have always been the Mikhail Kroff's little brother. He's the one who's always been...well, everything. Don't you get it...what this means? Everything that I have ever done here, all my hard work, all that I've built up, it's all going to be a waste. Every match will be a comparison. I will become his cheap replica, he the star." His voice broke as he stood up straighter, "I can never escape the dullness of his shadow."

"Anthony..." Auburn tried to stop him. "You know that's not true."

"It's okay," and just like that, you wouldn't have ever guessed he had had a panic attack minutes ago. His face was still tired and pale, his eyes didn't have the same shine but he looked...not like someone who had a thorn wrestling with his heart. "I'm used to it. Seriously, it's no big deal. I shouldn't have reacted like that. He's my brother and I am happy for him. End of story."

He walked back into the restaurant, not once looking back. Auburn and I followed slowly.

Damn you, Anthony, damn you, you with your shy smiles and overflowing goodness. Damn you for not realizing how precious you are.

***

dedicated to clato_andthemaroondiamonds, my talented friend who has a heart of beautiful gold.

***

I am so sorry for the late update. But since Chits and Chats is now complete, Soul Harbour is my #1 priority for completion. That means more updates so yay! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter and you'll definitely get to see more of the Kroff family.

Last but not the least, a huge thank you to the talented _capriciously_ for this beautiful beautiful banner that I lurvvv.