I quickly waddled my way down the small street, passing by every restaurant and shop I could see, looking around frantically.
Where did he go?!
Biting my lip, I caught murmurs floating around me.
"Gosh, have you seen that good-looking guy in that Tapsilugan place?"
"Yeah! That tall, dark, and handsome one?"
My feet stopped in place.
They giggled as they walked past me.
"It's a shame that he already has a wife, though..."
"Well, who knows? Maybe he just likes that shirt—"
"I love my wife" — that's what was written on the shirt.
My eyes widened. I turned on my heel and dashed toward the restaurant I had eaten at yesterday.
The Tapsilugan.
I ran, panting as the rustic wooden walls and roof made of palm leaves came into view.
Bursting through the entrance, I saw a tall figure standing at the counter, his back almost completely blocking the vendor.
"Sir, you can have your order, but make sure to pay first!" the vendor scolded.
My eyes widened again, and I rushed to stand beside him.
His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at her.
He threw his hands up. "I promise I'll pay someday. I just need to buy my maste—" He paused mid-sentence. Then added, "My wife. I need to buy her food."
The vendor gave him a skeptical look.
"Uh—excuse me! I'd like to pay for his meal," I interrupted.
They both turned to face me.
"Oh, wifey, I told you to stay at home—" he began, then froze.
My neck snapped toward him.
The vendor squinted at me suspiciously.
Argh, this is embarrassing...
"I'm not your—" I glared at him, and he flinched, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
He turned to the vendor.
"Excuse me, Ma'am, but are you still willing to pay?"
---
~ 0 ~
"Sorry, Annie."
My hand paused mid-air, the spoon hovering near my mouth. I looked up and saw him staring down at the table, lips pouting.
Gosh, he looks like a puppy.
"For what?" I asked nonchalantly.
"For... making you buy the food instead."
"And?"
"And?..." His confused look made me blink twice. His eyes were practically asking:
'Did I do something else wrong?'
He reached for the small bowl of soup on the table and sipped it, glancing at me sideways.
"For calling you my wife?"
I coughed, fanning my hand in front of my face.
Gosh, how can he say that so shamelessly?
His eyes widened slightly. He picked up the glass beside him and brought it near my lips.
The cold glass brushed against my bottom lip. I paused, staring at him. His brows knit in concern, his eyes searching mine.
"Wouldn't I be a bad friend if I didn't take care of you?" he said calmly, pouring water into my glass.
"I was actually on the way to buy something... then I heard that jerk's voice. He was talking to you."
I smiled faintly as he filled the glass beside me.
Pouring water for me now? Guess you're more gentlemanly than I thought...
Then, he picked up the glass and drank from it himself.
I gulped, my eyes darting to our surroundings.
We were sitting in the same spot where Dylan and I once sat.
My gaze lowered to the pendant on his chest.
Same pendant. Different guy.
"Drink up, Annie."
My brows rose. I met his gaze.
He was still holding the glass near my lips, expectant.
His eyes scanned my face, his brows slightly furrowed.
Why is this guy... so different? So... concerned?
I took the glass from his hand and sipped, never breaking eye contact. He kept watching as I drank all of it in one go.
"Ahh~"
Clang. I placed the glass back on the table.
Something lightly tapped my lips. My eyes widened slightly—it was a tissue.
"Don't worry," he said gently. "I'm just taking care of you."
He smiled with his eyes—so unlike Joshua's fake cheerfulness.
He wiped the excess water from my mouth and placed the tissue beside his plate, still smiling.
I dropped my head down and silently returned to eating. From time to time, I glanced at him as he ate enthusiastically.
Whenever our eyes met, he would flash me a warm smile—the kind that makes you feel welcomed... and wanted.
Yeah. Wanted.
"Uhm... so... what's your name?" I asked, forking a piece of sunny-side-up egg from my plate.
Maybe he... isn't so bad after all.
He stopped scooping rice.
"Well, what do you want to call me, Annie?"
"Huh?" I blinked and took another sip of water.
"It's up to you. Since," he scratched his nape, glancing at me shyly, "you're my master—"
"Pfft!" I spat out my drink.
He immediately reached out with another tissue, gently dabbing my lips again.
"I didn't mean it badly. I just meant... you can call me whatever makes you comfortable."
"Don't you have a name?" I stared at his face, trying to see if he was joking.
"I do, but..."
My brow lifted.
He sighed and set his spoon down.
"Chat0021234."
"Huh?"
"That's... my program name." He avoided my gaze. "It's not a human name, although I look like one."
I furrowed my brows and huffed.
"Fine, Mr. A.I. You even eat like a human."
"You're... not asking more questions?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Well, it kinda makes sense now—our encounters at home, the way you know things I've never told anyone."
"You're... not going to scream?" He looked at me, eyes scanning my face.
I sighed, resting my chin on my hand.
"What else do you have to prove when our interactions say it all?"
He reached out and placed my hand on his chest.
"What are you—"
"Do you feel anything?"
I froze.
His dark brown eyes met mine.
"T-there's... nothing."
My hand rested on his chest—muscular, warm... but no heartbeat.
"Wait, this is your left side, right? It should beat here..."
He guided my hand lower, near his sternum.
"W-what are you—"
I paused.
There was no pulse. Just the eerie stillness of synthetic life.
"Why doesn't it beat?"
I looked up.
He gave me a faint smile.
"Because... I don't have a heart."
My eyebrows shot up. My hand flew from his chest to cover my mouth.
Then—I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Isn't that Annie?" a man murmured, footsteps approaching.
Fingers lifted my chin, gently.
I was forced to face him again.
"H-huh?"
"Don't look anywhere else but me," he said softly, eyes locked on mine. "If you do, people might get the wrong idea—"
"But that's impossible. That girl's with a guy?" a girl's voice whispered in disbelief.
The footsteps behind me stopped.
I kept staring into the AI guy's eyes.
"Hey, I think someone I know is behi—"
"Please." His voice quivered. "Only look at me."
My brows rose at the desperation in his gaze.
And suddenly, something churned deep inside me.
Those dark hues stared into mine—intense but kind.
The footsteps faded.
He finally let go of my chin.
"Was that... someone I didn't want to see?" I asked.
He picked up the glass I had used earlier and took a sip.
My eyes widened slightly.
"Uh, that's my glass."
He froze, then slowly set it down.
"Sorry. I got caught up in the moment."
"It's Dylan, right?" I leaned back in my seat.
He sighed, looking away with a pout.
Avoiding eye contact now? Cute.
"Anyway... you really don't have a name?"
His gaze returned to me.
"It's not very human... and kind of tedious to say."
He chuckled.
"That's why I prefer you call me something else."
"Pft—" I laughed loudly, the sound bouncing around the restaurant.
He rested his chin on his palm, smiling softly.
My laughter faded, cheeks warming.
'Badum.'
I felt a faint thump inside my chest.
What... is this?
His eyes still held mine, curved upward in a soft smile.
"What do you want to call me?" he asked.
I glanced around the restaurant, trying to avoid the question—the counter, the floor, the decorations...
Then I paused at an old vintage frame on the wall.
A faded photo of a man holding a microphone.
"Ely Buendia – Eraserheads."
My eyes lit up.
"Eli!" I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. "That's what I'll call you!"
"Eli?"
"Yes. That's your name now."
His brows lifted as he leaned back. The smile on his lips faltered for a second. His eyes widened, then...
A faint blush bloomed on his cheeks.
"Okay. Eli it is," he murmured.