A Freesia on My Doorstep - TO BE PUBLISHED UNDER PAPERINK IMPRINTS

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Morning Glory: Affection

"A freesia."

UPON CONSIDERING HIS friend's suggestion of taking the rest of the day off, Dalfon returned home in Haco's gray sedan. While the former was unlocking his door, the latter pointed out the freesia on his doorstep.

"Hmm?" Dalfon looked down and picked up the flattened purple flower. "It seems I've stepped on it this morning."

The two entered the house and Dalfon flopped himself on his couch. Haco went straight for the kitchen.

"Say, did yar everyday freesia ever become absent?" Haco asked, taking a seat on the opposite couch with a mayonnaise sandwich in hand.

Dalfon replied with his eyes closed, "No. It's always there every morning."

"How long has it been?"

"Two whole years without missing a day."

Haco suddenly choked on his sandwich and made a run for a glass of water. "W-Without missin' a day!? Dude, how can ya sleep comfortably? Ya have a stalker!"

"I don't have a stalker."

"Even if I didn't find a single shadow of a person in those seven days I volunteered to watch over yar house last year—!" Haco ended his reason midway and heaved a deep sigh. He took a bite of his sandwich and said, "If the person who leaves a freesia on yar doorstep is a ghost. . . ."

The sound of Dalfon's soft snores left him with another unfinished sentence.

In the end, Haco decided to spend the rest of the day with him and stay overnight since the following day was a Sunday.

HACO WOKE UP earlier than Dalfon the next morning. He fixed his gaze on the doorstep as he turned the knob of the front door open. With a silent gasp and the widening of his eyes, he found a new and fresh freesia lying right in front of his feet.

A thought suddenly came into his mind. 'What if I dispose of this and tell Dalfon that his flower-giftin' friend finally missed a day?'

And so, without further ado, Haco picked up the freesia, crumpled it in his hands, and dumped it in the trash bag inside his gray sedan.

When he turned back in the direction of the front door, he found a new freesia on Dalfon's doorstep. The grip he had around his car keys loosened, and the item fell on the asphalt with a soft clang.

With trembling voice, he mumbled, "G-Ghost . . . it's a ghost!"

'A freakin' ghost is giftin' flowers to my friend!'

But then again, he picked up the flower and threw it away.

And once more, there was a new freesia.

The cycle repeated for almost an hour, and Haco's nostrils were flaring in madness. 'An annoyin' ghost is playin' with me, damn it!'

Unexpectedly, just as when he was about to pick up another freesia on Dalfon's doorstep, the man himself appeared in front of him.

"What do you think you're doing, Haco?"

"Uhh," he flashed an awkward grin; "hi . . . ?"

"I'm asking: What are you doing to my freesias?"

Haco handed the flower over to him and replied, "I'm pickin' them up for ya!"

But Dalfon looked at him suspiciously, his hazel orbs scanning him from head to toe. Finally, he closed his eyes and heaved a disappointed sigh.

"You were about to throw 'them' away, right?"

Realizing he had a slip of the tongue, Haco's mind was a mess and he couldn't think of a proper response.

"Give them to me," Dalfon demanded.

Haco reasoned, "But they're from a ghost!"

"A gift is a gift. Besides, do you even know what a freesia symbolizes?"

Haco opened his mouth to answer but shut them again. He lowered his head, indicating his silent 'no'.

Dalfon smiled; his gaze settled on the freesia in his hand. "Well, I don't know the answer to that, too."

Despite saying those words, deep inside, Dalfon knew the answer to his question.

'A freesia is believed to symbolize unconditional love—that pure and genuine love one is willing to give even when the other person probably won't love them back.'

Then, he contradicted his own thoughts, 'Damn romance. Too cliché.'

DALFON COOKED THEIR breakfast of ham and egg toast. Haco was pleased about it, but for some reason, Dalfon made his food salty.

"What the hell is this, dude!?" Haco complained after taking a bite.

"A punishment," Dalfon simply answered with a sly smile; "for not only throwing but also for destroying my beautiful freesias."

Haco clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes but he couldn't do anything about the salty toast. In the end, he had no choice but to eat the cursed breakfast his friend served.

The two spent the rest of their Sunday in theaters, museums, and galleries to hone their creativity.

With arts being the heart of their chosen fields, of course, they had to broaden their horizon and improve their skills in that aspect. There even were times in the past when they traveled to other countries just for that.

Of course, Haco's punishment did not end with just breakfast. It continued for the rest of the day.

In the theater, Dalfon accidentally spilled a few drops of his cola on him. In the museum, he accidentally tripped him in front of women. In the gallery, he accidentally pushed him into a 'No Limits' zone.

"Ya're far, far worse than that ghost, Ananta!" Haco cried out to his friend after the security guard of the gallery kicked them out for messing about.

Dalfon placed his hands in his pockets like a cool gentleman and smirked. "It wouldn't be like this if you were a good boy, Fenmore."

"Oh, so we're surname basis now, huh?" Haco snickered. "Well, find that damn flower-giftin' ghost friend of yars!"

"I don't think I need to do so," answered the other. "He's been with us all along, you know?"

"EHH!?!"

A ghost wearing a set of maple-red three-piece suit with a white necktie made an appearance to Dalfon. A pair of white leather shoes covered his feet. On his messy ebony-black hair was a maple-red top hat with a white band. In his right hand was a long, thin, black sword cane decorated with a big diamond on the handle.

Dalfon respectfully bowed down his head. "Your Majesty," he acknowledged.

"M-Majesty!?" gasped Haco.

A smile crept into the Ghost King's pale lips; his maple-red eyes glistened. "This may be of disappointment to you, but I am not your flower-gifting ghost friend. I am only here in your presence as per that person's request."

Dalfon's eyebrows rose as his curiosity was switched on. "Then who might it be?"

"I'm afraid I have to disappoint you once again. They want to tell you personally . . . once they gain enough courage. Therefore, my lips are sealed."

"I can wait, Your Majesty. I will wait for that person."

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