You Aren't Real

I don't usually go to the Galliard plaza because it is a bit far from my apartment, but I overheard from the other table while I was eating lunch that there's gonna be fireworks. I would prefer to stay at home and do my schoolwork but I realized I need to have some fun and take a break so here I am ignoring the chilly air because I didn't anticipate that tonight's gonna be freezing. I am wearing a plain white shirt paired with a comfortable jogging pants. I didn't have to dress up since it's gonna be dark anyway, nobody's gonna see me, and why would I dress up for fireworks?

Strands of hair fell off to my face so I adjusted my clip and went to one of the benches to sit as I sat on a bench. Most benches were occupied mostly by lovers or group so it took me a couple of minutes before I found this spot. I rubbed my hands and as I felt the heat, I hugged myself to fight the cold.

"Mind if I sit here?" said a deep voice. With his tall build, I had to look up to see his face. The place was illuminated with yellow lights coming from a classic lamp so I couldn't make out the color of his eyes, but it was clear as daylight how pretty they were.

"No," I replied pushing myself to the far end side of the bench.

"I'm not gonna bite, you know." He laughed lowly I could almost feel the bench vibrating. "Actually, this one's for you." He handed me one of the two coffee he was holding. I could clearly see the smoke coming out from the cup.

I hesitated for a moment. I'm cold, a hot coffee would help. And he's cute. And if he's a serial killer who targets college girls who are alone in public places then I don't mind since I don't have much things to do in life anyway, I thought.

"Uh, thank you." I held the coffee in my hand and took a sip. I was surprised a bit when he sat on the other end of the bench, leaving a huge gap between us.

Maybe I looked so puzzled by this thought that he said, "I figured you'd feel better if I sit here."

We sat there in silence for which I was thankful about since I don't really know how to keep conversations. I found comfort when he didn't try to strike a conversation either. As the cold breeze splashes onto us, I smelt his masculine perfume. And I inhaled it, admired it, just as how I admire the smell of books and home.

"I find you pretty," he broke the silence. I felt like I could hear his heart beating fast.

It left me speechless. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Ivan."

And the fireworks suddenly lightened the sky. I stared at him, he was staring back at me. The fireworks, the reason why I was here, was completely forgotten.

Tears escaped from my eyes. Ivan, I know him. The guy I keep seeing in my hallucinations. It's hard to believe he's back, and here to introduce himself to me again.

"Does this mean I have to go therapy again? Take those meds?" I chuckled to myself while crying. I thought I was done with this. Maybe I'm too lonely lately that he's actually back to keep me company. Though he comforts me, it doesn't comfort me knowing that he was only a product of my own thoughts.

"You know, I'm real," he answered.

I didn't reply knowing that believing him would mean losing. And I hate it. How I thought I'm doing better then suddenly I'm back to square one.