S I L V E R

That's actually their first time seeing each other after school. Grace has told her that she will bring him to some place not too far, and not too peaceful, yet it can somehow free their minds from whatever problem they may have. Kris has never tried going out someplace ever since his last time with his brother, but with the night still young and with home being hard as it always is, Kris then decides that it's not such a bad idea to give it a try.

"Is it a date?" Kent asks over the phone, slightly amused, when Kris calls right after class.

"A date?" Kris asks himself. Will Rose really cross the line and try something other than being just friends?

"I-I don't know," he says, and though his father can't see him, he still tilts his head to the side, feeling embarrassed. "I gotta go, dad," he adds, avoiding further conversation.

He heaves a deep sigh, leaning against the counter as he looks at his features in the mirror. He's been doing that for quite some time now, but still, he can't seem to satisfy himself to the way he should look.

It may be hard to believe but it is the only time he spends in front of the mirror since, again, his brother's death.

Indeed there are so many things he has refused to do after that one chaotic day, and him choosing to do it again just shows how clear things are starting to become.

He's just started in trying to fix his mess of a hair when his phone rings and Rose's number flashes on the screen, making him almost bump his head on the mirror for leaning too much.

"Yeah?" he answers in his usual cold voice, trying to hide the agitation behind his voice as he gulps hard.

"Line's in the bathroom are getting long, you know." He almost chokes upon hearing those words, hurriedly stuffing his things inside his bag. He can hear Rose chuckling from the other side of the line, making him sweat more than necessary.

"Really? I just got here," he lies but hopes the she will buy it. Unfortunately, she doesn't.

"A staff here said you were there for thirty minutes already. The guy in a hoodie," she quotes, "that must be you." She laughs again and Kris bites his lower lip because of too much embarrassment.

"I'm using the toilet right now," he reasons and Rose kills the line immediately. That's when his breathing relaxed, and finally he manages to give his hair a back brush, his shirt one final tug, and his cheeks one last tap before he gets out of the bathroom.

There, glares welcome him so warm that he can swear those guys want to do nothing than to cut his throat. Good thing Rose calls out for him, earning him the chance to get out of the headlights.

Rose is donned in a one-sie stripes dress matched with a pair of flats and the tiniest (as Kris will describe) of shoulder bag with a lace that makes the bag itself extend up to her knees, and her thin hair freely cascading past her shoulders.

It is very unusual of her. Yes, she dresses well. But she's never worn a dress. It then makes Kris wonder if she, like him, prepares for that night.

"Shall we?" Rose asks, beaming. Kris feels awkward in an instant, his cheeks fuming the slightest shade of red, as he blames himself for changing into a long-sleeve polo with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He doesn't use to wear that style, but his brother once said that girls like guys who know how to dress.

"Why are you stiff and all?" she asks while they're taking the underground pass to reach the other side of the road.

Kris doesn't answer but his eyes keep on following those couples holding hands, arms laced together, and being sweet and such. It becomes too late for him to realize that Rose is watching him in amusement, so he doesn't foresee that her arms will lace around his playfully, teasing him more.

He looks at Rose with wide eyes, making her laugh---that kind that echoes within the walls and that can make people look their way. "You know sometimes, I swear I like you!" she says, too ecstatic to care about her choices of words. But Kris takes note of that. Every single word and how it is said, he keeps it in mind.

Then he wishes she doesn't have to go.

"It's starting, we're late!" She pulls him to the crowd of people going the same way they do. They both squirm through the sea of bodies on the escalator, taking steps instead of just riding it.

"Slow down," he will say between pants, but Rose will just continue pulling him deeper to the hallway until they have reached a square, where nothing is there except darkness.

He stiffens and feels the struggle to breathe. He knows he's standing all alone by himself, without Rose's arm wrapped around his. He wants to go back underground, but he can't move his legs.

Breathe, he tells himself. But upon hearing children in their tantrums, series of laughter beyond the darkness, and screams the screams inside his head, all his strength has been drained from him.

"I'm here," he heard her whisper, the warmth of her arm returning to his side until blue lights gradually appear, tainting the black of the night.

"Fireflies?" he asks, getting his composure back, but feeling dumb as well.

"More like Ayala's Dancing Lights."

And indeed they dances. Those lights that look like lightning bugs cavorting in midair flashes on and off along with the rhythm of Christmas music. Blue, red, purple---variants of hues, it is a complete package.

Applause is given as well as different words of endearment being cheered by everyone. Except from him. He's too dazzled by the way everything is arranged; from the lights, the smoke coming from the devices set on the ground, the music.

It's not the same beauty found in nature---those in places with pictures expanded in billboards for promotion---but it is something equally magical, for effort has been poured in to offer such scene.

"Sorry if I can't show you a natural place that you can visit whenever you will have to calm your mind," she whispers and he looks at her in disbelief.

She is a glowing variant of silver casted along the stars in the night; to bring light; to save life.

He thinks that's why he likes her. She tries to help one see the beauty in the simplest of things, but she completely forgets the beauty beyond her.

"No. This is perfect," he says before smiling---a curve that lingers even after that one enthralled night.

"I bet my balls it's a girl," Raphael says, still trying to make Kris spill the reason for his frequent curving of lips. "Who is she? Do I know her?"

But Kris just shakes his head and smiles to his food that has never been touched. "Man, you're doing it again!" Raphael groans and carries on in talking random things, but Kris is too preoccupied by the rapid turn of events.

If he is still in his old self, like few weeks prior, he thinks he's already drawn lines that separate him from the world. Because that's what he does. He likes to draw lines whenever it starts to get surreal.

But it's different. He doesn't change. He just chooses to reopen his reopen his mind to broader things, and that's how he's made a new face, burying his old one deep within his core.

Controlled emotions?

Decreased panic attacks?

Friends?

Starting anew?

Yes. Everything is starting to make sense.