A month ago, in a small homestyle restaurant just a few blocks from Dylan's house, Haru absentmindedly stirred the ice in her orange juice with a straw. She had ordered it the moment hunger struck after nearly an entire morning without breakfast. As the ice clinked softly inside the glass, she spoke in a low voice to her former classmate, Felix, as if she were sharing highly confidential information.
"Hey, don't look at me like that," she said, pursing her lips. "My plan isn't as crazy as it sounds. If I get close to one of his neighbors, I can drop by without looking like some creepy stalker. Technically, I wouldn't be coming to see him... I'd just happen to be in the area by coincidence. You see? Perfect excuse!"
Upon hearing her, Felix lowered his gaze to the table, took a spoonful of rice into his mouth, and replied while chewing.
"How about you just go to his house like a normal person? Don't forget, he called you a stalker for hiring me to follow him, not for visiting him yourself."
At his sarcastic tone, Haru shot him a sharp look, narrowing her eyes in a mix of annoyance and warning.
"How about you own up to your part and just help me, hmm? I did pay you, after all."
With that, she straightened her back —which she had been leaning forward to speak more closely— and crossed her arms with a small huff.
"Besides, I still need someone to call the cops or break into his house if something happens to me. So, unless you want to handle that for the next few months, you better just do as I say and find out which of his neighbors would be the best for me to approach.''
Faced with the possibility of spending the rest of the year watching the house of a painfully average guy—under the sun, the rain, or the approaching cold—Felix let out a deep sigh, since he didn't have much choice but to reluctantly agree.
Thus, a couple of nights later, while both played online, he shared with her the information he had gathered through means only he knew.
The most viable candidate turned out to be a lonely elderly woman living three doors down from the "target." According to his findings, she had raised her daughters alone by selling tortillas for decades, only for them to move abroad once they were grown. Sure, they sent her money every month, but she was still left to live by herself in the house she had built with years of hard work.
To make matters worse, arthritis had robbed her of the ability to continue working. She now spent her days sitting in the sun or watering plants, quietly watching passersby from her porch. Someone that vulnerable—and craving affection—was perfect for Haru's purposes.
Without hesitation, she went to visit her the next day. Thanks to her charm, her looks, and a promise to help with her medications, she managed to win the elderly lady's affection in just a few hours.
With that bond secured, only one step remained: visiting Dylan again and reminding him that shaking her off wouldn't be so easy... at least not without telling her the truth. And of course, she intended to do it hand in hand with her new friend...
. . . . .
Back in the present, Haru stood next to Dylan in his kitchen, carefully unpacking the contents of the wicker basket she had brought. A white cloth, dampened by the rain, covered the top, and beneath it was a generous selection of homemade fried snacks prepared by the old lady, despite the constant dissuasion from the person she now considered her granddaughter.
Meanwhile, Dylan silently took plates and glasses from the cupboard, preparing to serve what Haru had brought. Since letting her in, he hadn't said a word—he was done pretending to be polite around her.
"Hey..." Haru spoke, not looking at him. "Why did Roberto run off like that from you?"
Roberto's sudden departure after hearing about "having fun together" struck her as odd, and she couldn't stay quiet any longer. After all, Roberto was taller and more muscular than Dylan, so it didn't make sense for him to be afraid of him.
"No clue. If you're that curious, you can ask him yourself when he gets back."
He answered with complete disinterest. Dylan had no intention of bringing up the numerous beatdowns he'd given Roberto under the excuse of training sessions. Instead, he steered the conversation toward something he considered more important.
"What about you? Why do you keep showing up? I thought you were the kind of person who preferred staying home gaming all day."
"Oh!? That's awfully specific for just a random assumption, Dylan! Have you still been spying on me or something?"
Overacting dramatically, Haru turned to him with her hands on her hips and her chest out. He simply stared at her, unable to take the act seriously.
"Tsk... good memory. But I don't need to stay locked up to enjoy my hobbies. Look at this…"
Clicking her tongue and laughing at the face he made at her performance, Haru pulled her phone from her pants pocket and held it above her head like a trophy.
"State-of-the-art technology, Dylan. With this, I can claim daily rewards in most of the games I like. And if I get bored, I can listen to music, browse, or play whenever I want.''
"Oh, yeah?"
Dylan couldn't understand why her answer focused on that instead of explaining why she kept coming to his house, when they weren't even friends, much less family. Resigned, he gave up and simply gestured over his shoulder at the fridge.
"Whatever. There's soda in there. Help yourself."
"Oh!"
Excited by the offer of something sweet to go with the snacks, Haru smiled brightly but soon gave him a stern look.
"Shame on you, Dylan. You shouldn't get too confident. Sure, you look better than before, but that's no excuse to fall back into bad habits. Although..."
Bringing a hand to her chin, she rubbed an imaginary beard while scanning him up and down, surprised by the huge physical change compared to when they first met.
By now, it was hard to see Dylan as an overweight person. And while he couldn't be considered an athlete —he still lacked muscle— he certainly looked much better than before. His chin was no longer chubby, his stomach was flat, and veins popped on his hands even at rest.
"Not bad. Not bad at all," she murmured, genuinely impressed.
Of course, that didn't mean his current appearance could instantly attract women, especially not someone like Haru, whose standards had been shaped by dozens of two-dimensional fictional loves. Still, she could appreciate his hard work and admire his dedication.
After pouring herself a large drink, she and Dylan headed to the living room. Haru carried her soda in one hand and a bowl full of snacks in the other. Then, sitting in opposite chairs, she grabbed the remote and, without much thought, changed the channel Roberto had left on, slightly embarrassed by whatever had been playing.
She flipped through a few channels before landing on one showing classic cartoons. Beaming from ear to ear, she left it there and dug into the snacks enthusiastically while Dylan watched in silence, wondering if that meal wasn't supposed to be a gift for the hosts in the first place.
Before long, Roberto returned, head down and shoulders slumped. His appearance caught Haru's attention, and she asked if he'd had a fight with his wife. As always, he denied being married but admitted it was just another relationship argument. He rambled on so much, full of excuses and complaints, that both she and Dylan eventually tuned him out.
By the time he finally shut up, his throat was dry. So, he tried to grab some snacks from Haru's bowl to go with his beer. But his attempt was foiled by Haru's swift slap, defending her food like a mother cat with her kittens.
Not wanting to anger his friend's possible girlfriend and benefactor, he sighed and moved to the middle couch, where he had left his beers next to the trash bin.
But just before drowning his sorrows in alcohol and forgetting the dreaded phone call, he heard words that froze him.
"By the way, did you bring the gloves?"
Dylan crossed his arms, making it perfectly clear he wasn't budging on the 'training' they had—more or less—agreed upon. On his side, Roberto sighed again, grabbed the only open can left, and downed it in one go.
If he was going to get beaten up, he'd rather be drunk enough not to remember it afterward.
As for Haru, she let out a giggle as she watched the scene between the two, clearly excited by the thought of seeing them fight.