The Boy Who Didn't Love

26 - the memories

a/n: above was the previous cover before you guys voted for the current one last chapter! posting it here for all that were curious.

Throughout the week, their attachment only grew as they spent more and more time together.

Sawyer had sped up his fail-safe process of consoling customers, while Ali continued honing her own skills. She used a different approach than him, relying on her authenticity rather than her deceitfulness, mostly because she was a horrible liar.

When he was done with his customer, he would usually watch her from afar for a few minutes, analyzing whether her technique was working or not. He would momentarily become distracted by her smile or her laugh or things alike, before stepping in to help her.

On the more peaceful days, they were able to sit together at their station and talk without any interruptions by griping customers. It was strange for him to be able to hold a conversation for so long; it was perhaps even stranger that he actually wanted it to last.

She, on the other hand, was very prudent with how much they interacted. She tried not to force conversations on him, or any physical contact either. She respected his boundaries and attempted to make him as comfortable as possible, although he was always content around her.

After work one day, they visited a local cafe for a small snack. She ordered a hot chocolate and a pain au chocolat, while he simply went with pressed juice and a croissant.

He stared at her pastry, cocking his head curiously. She peered up at him as she took a bite and smiled. "Have you never had a pain au chocolat before?"

"No, what is it?"

"It's basically a chocolate croissant. You want to try it? I don't mind," she offered, and he hesitated for a moment. His eyes flickered up to hers—which never seemed to lack that gleaming enthusiasm—before he caved in.

Sawyer took a bite, then nodded. "I like it. I'll get it next time."

"We'll be pastry pals," Ali grinned, then chuckled at her own cheesiness. His lips curled up in amusement as he gulped down some of his juice. She glanced out the window, spotting a couple walking hand in hand with their child, and turned back to him. "Hey, tell me more about your family. I really only know about your dad, kind of."

"I have a pretty big family. Lots of cousins, aunts, and uncles, but I haven't seen them since I was a child. Ever since my mother died, my dad has been the only relative I talk to," Sawyer said, his voice void of emotion as usual, and her face softened at the mention of his mother.

"What was your mom like?"

A shadow of a smile appeared on his face as the memories flashed in his mind. "She was small, but loud. Her laughs could be heard from doors away, yet nobody ever found her obnoxious. I remember she could spark up a conversation with anyone and have them smiling within seconds. My dad said she was his own little sun. She'd call me her little star."

"She sounds beautiful. I can imagine her in my head," Ali murmured as his eyes slowly drifted back to her. He exhaled through his nose, then silently ate his croissant for a moment.

"She died when I was ten. It was a brain aneurysm, and she was alone at home when it happened. I remember it was the first time I've ever seen my dad cry," Sawyer told her quietly, then sighed. His gaze dropped down to his plate, which looked as empty as he felt. "I've come to terms with her death by now, but I still..."

"Miss her?" she suggested, and he glanced up at her, nodding.

"Yeah. I miss her."

She opened her mouth to try to comfort him, but promptly closed it. As she stared at the faint heartbroken expression cast over his face, she decided that it was best to let him feel.

  A wave of silence rolled over them, with only the indistinct chattering of the cafe customers filling the air, until he cleared his throat. He met her eyes, sending jolts to each of their hearts as if it was the first day he looked at her all over again.

"How about your family?" he asked, causing a bright smile to creep onto her face. With him, she always knew that he truly cared about she told him, otherwise he simply wouldn't bother asking.

  Ali sat back in her seat and shrugged. "My family's pretty small, in comparison. I'm not too close with either of my parents, never have been. My mom left my dad and I when I was younger, and he was too busy working all the time to take care of me. I was raised by my grandmother instead, my dad's mom."

"You moved out here to take care of her, right?" Sawyer questioned, and she nodded, touched that he had remembered. He cocked his head in his usual emotionless puppy-dog way. "Do you talk to either of your parents regularly?"

"I've been texting my dad every week to give him updates on his mom, and he asks me how I'm doing once in a while. As for my mom, she sends me a postcard every year on my birthday, and sometimes she'll even call. But that's usually only once or twice a year," she explained nonchalantly, while he listened intently with his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration.

"Does that make you feel...sad?"

Taken aback by the question, she hesitated for a moment. She looked down at her hands as she tucked them in between her thighs, then blew out a small breath. "I don't know. I've kind of always accepted everything that happened, and just kept moving forward. I do wonder what it would've been like if things were different, but my childhood wasn't too bad. My grandma was always there for me, and that was enough, you know?"

"No," he answered, and she paused before a quiet chuckle escaped from her lips. A smile found its way onto his own face upon seeing her brighten up.

She froze when he suddenly reached across the small table and took hold of her hand. She liked the contrasting coldness of his fingers as they slowly interlaced with her warm ones. He gazed deep into her irises the entire time, in a way that almost made her blush.

He seemed like he wanted to say something, but as the seconds passed by, she realized that he was struggling to find the words. She offered him a tender smile and squeezed his hand, hoping that he would receive the wordless message.

He, too, smiled as a response.

Somehow, that silent exchange was enough for them; the message was understood. They didn't need words to show how much they appreciated each other.