For the past few days, Zioh and I had been joined at the hip, always moving together, eating together, breathing the same air. After leaving the office, I’d either head to Zioh’s penthouse or he’d drop me home. We enjoyed spending time together at the penthouse, filling the hours with light conversation or simply watching something together. Zioh would even cook for me.
It was a homecoming of the soul. I was alive again, breathing in the life I had craved for so long. It was as if, slowly, the universe had begun to lend me its quiet support.
I was content to wait, giving him all the time he needed to open up and speak more. I’d stay right by his side, doing whatever I could to help him, and I would drag him out of any darkness that sought to lead him astray, because I knew he was still him somewhere deep inside.
I’d wipe away the gray, and I’d erase the black. I’d do it until Zioh was pure white again—until I could recognize the man I loved fully once more.
This time, I’d be the one to save my hero.
“Just put the camera on the tripod,” Zioh’s soft voice reached me, and I lifted my head to look at him. He sketched before me, smiling when our eyes met. “I’ll be in this position for a long while, don’t worry.”
I returned his smile, then did as he suggested, setting my camera on the tripod and adjusting it into a good position.
Carefully, I walked over to stand not far from him, slipping to his side, and letting myself get lost in the drawinghe worked on. It was so neat and precise; it looked like a diagram or perhaps a floor plan.
Around him lay stacks of papers filled with drawings, materials, colors, and textures. It wasn’t just papers; even the computer screen before him showed much the same. Many types of pencils and other tools were scattered, leaving me confused yet in awe.
A soft warmth bloomed in my chest. He was bent over his work, his focus so absolute that the rest of the room seemed to fade away.
He was doing what he loved.
Standing in silence, I was caught up in my own thoughts until at last Zioh glanced at me and rose from his chair. I was startled by his sudden movement. He crossed the room, grabbed a cushioned armchair, and dragged it towards me, making me smile.
“Thank you.” I sat down, and he offered a small smile before sinking back into his seat. Within seconds, his focus had returned to his work, and I found myself pulled into that same quiet concentration. The room remained still until he broke the silence with a gentle question: “When you visit a building, what is it that strikes you the most?”
His sudden question made me turn my head. “Hm?” I replied, caught off guard, unprepared for such a query.
He flicked a glance at me. “You heard me.” He tapped the end of his pencil against my forehead, urging me to pay attention. I clicked my tongue in mock annoyance but began to think.
He held my gaze for a long while, patiently awaiting my answer. I searched my memories. Buildings… I’d been in plenty. My job often brought me inside different offices around the city and beyond.
Or sometimes, Tsabinu and I would explore, visiting the national library, museums, and other places he loved.
But was there ever a building that genuinely impressed me? Besides, I wasn’t Zioh, who had travelled around the continent several times.
Ah… but then I remembered.
Meeting his eyes, I spoke with a spark of excitement. “I once visited a media office in South Jakarta, and I really loved the design of the walls.”
Zioh’s gaze deepened, attention on me. Straightening in my chair, I went on. “It was beautiful and made the space feel comfortable. On the ground floor, the walls blended warm brown tones with wood. One side had a mural of trees painted in a soft brown ink, while the other was lined with long wooden panels.” My voice grew more animated as I relived the memory. “Simple, yet elegant, and everything felt harmonious.”
Zioh’s lips curved when he heard my enthusiasm. I wasn’t sure if my description did it justice, but I hoped Zioh understood. He let out a low, warm laugh, clearing his throat as he edged his chair closer to mine. “Anything else?”
I frowned, trying to think again. Another memory surfaced, one from Bali. “I once went to a restaurant in Bali, and the walls were covered in drawings and paintings.” I glanced at him, gauging his reaction. As he continued to watch me, I kept talking. “They were all food-themed. Some were done in pencil, others were like sketches. It amazed me; it was such a unique idea. I’ve always liked places where the decor feels cohesive, and the drawings were good and quirky. Maybe the owner made them himself?”
A low hum vibrated in his throat as Zioh locked his eyes on me. He cleared his throat, then gave a slight, solemn nod. Why was he so absorbed in my answers?
Then his hand brushed against my cheek, stroking it gently, sending heat into my face. Adjusting himself, he turned back to his work. I mirrored his movement, and we both fell quiet until he spoke again.
“What about the things you don’t like?” he asked, giving me a quick sidelong glance. “Or things you wish your office had?”
His calm question pulled me into thought. This time, I didn’t need long. A hundred little complaints came to mind at once.
Ahh… I’d been whining a lot about work, hadn’t I?
“I loathe our office toilets,” I blurted. “The entrance is ridiculously complicated.” The thought made me grimace. “Sure, maybe it’s meant to be aesthetic, but to me it’s just a hassle. Gives me a headache.”
I found myself complaining freely beside him, comfortable enough to ramble the way I had been all these past days. “For a mall, fine. But in an office? I nearly ran straight into a wall once when I was desperate.” My cheeks warmed as I admitted it. “Honestly, we don’t care about fancy toilets. We just want them clean, with enough stalls, proper water, and smelling heavenly.”
