Főnix

Phoenix

Part 36: Secret Moments

Albatross keeps leaning close to Phoenix. The air vibrates, and Phoenix grips her fork as if it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

Phoenix (shyly, muttering):
“I–it would be… nice… if you sat… a little farther away… because… because like this… it’s hard… to eat.”

Albatross slowly, very visibly, leans back… then half a second later leans forward again, right into the exact same closeness.

“Is this better?” he asks in a deep, playful voice.

Phoenix’s eyes go wide like a startled owl.
“Y–you’re doing this on purpose!”

Albatross smiles.
“Me? Of course not. I just… happen to eat this close. Always.”

Phoenix can’t take it anymore and bursts out:
“No one eats this close!”

Albatross puts on a thoughtful face, rubs his eyebrow, then says softly, with complete seriousness:
“Maybe my distance sensor was calibrated incorrectly. I might be a factory-defective unit.”

Phoenix suddenly bursts into laughter. The kind of pure, honest laugh she rarely even hears from herself.

“You… you’re crazy!” she says, still laughing.

Albatross looks at her as if it were the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Hm. Finally. That laugh… I like that.”

Phoenix tries to calm down, but she’s still giggling.
“I… I didn’t mean to… laugh… it was just funny, okay?”

Albatross leans closer again, this time gently, not intrusive, almost tender.
“Then I’ll malfunction more often… if that’s the reward.”

Phoenix blushes deeply.
The laughter slowly softens into a smile.

Phoenix:
“Are you… always like this?” she asks quietly.

Albatross:
“Like what?” he asks back with a gentle half-smile.

Phoenix:
“Like… like… annoyingly… funny… kind… close…” she mutters, almost whispering.

Albatross answers in a deep voice:
“Only with you. For some reason… I can’t stay far away from you.”

Phoenix’s heart skips a beat. The embarrassment returns, but the smile stays on her face.

“Well… then…” Phoenix lowers her head, “…sometimes you can stay this close.”

Something warm and playful flashes in Albatross’s eyes.

“Only sometimes?”

Phoenix:
“N–not too often!” she protests immediately, her ears red.
“Just… sometimes. If… if… you have a good reason.”

Albatross, slowly, in a deep voice:
“I do now.”

Phoenix looks up.
“What? What’s the reason?”

Albatross:
“I like the way you laugh.”

Phoenix blushes again… but this time she’s smiling.

She still sits at the table embarrassed, trying to eat, but her hands are shaking, her face is red, and her thoughts are completely tangled.

Albatross watches her gently, then slowly leans closer again, to that dangerously close distance he always keeps.

“You know…” he begins softly, with a playful half-smile,
“If you keep shaking like this, people will think you’re cold… and then they’ll probably bring you a blanket. Or two. Or a whole tent.”

Phoenix looks up, shocked.
“What? A tent? Why… why would they bring a tent?!”

Albatross shrugs, pretending deadly seriousness.
“Because you look like you might collapse at any moment. Or melt. Or both at the same time. And I wouldn’t want restaurant management to rewrite their safety regulations because of you.”

Phoenix blinks… then suddenly bursts out laughing.

“Oh no… don’t say things like that…!” she tries to stop herself, but it’s too late.
“Collapse?! Melt?! Seriously?! Albatross!”

Albatross leans back in satisfaction, his smile widening.
“See? That’s better. At least now you don’t look like someone who was dropped off at the central station and forgot which train to take.”

Phoenix laughs again.
“What?! I did NOT look like that!”

Albatross:
“Oh yes you did. Exactly like that. You just needed a neon sign that said: ‘Help! Someone is sitting too close!’”

Phoenix is now laughing out loud. She drops her head into her hand and fans herself to calm down.

“Oh… Albatross, stop…” she says, still laughing.
“Don’t do this… I can’t be… normal like this!”

Albatross slowly leans forward, very close, his voice low, deep, and warm.

“You know, Phoenix… this is exactly how I like seeing you. When you laugh. When you relax… and when you don’t want to be normal. This is when you’re… truly you.”

Phoenix’s face turns red again. The laughter fades into a small, soft smile.

“I… you just… say things like that… and then I can’t…” she mutters, but she’s smiling too.

Albatross slides his hand a little closer on the table and touches Phoenix’s again.

“If every sentence I say makes you blush like this, then you’re going to have a very long and very funny evening next to me.”

Phoenix lowers her head, but another smile hides at the corner of her mouth.

“It’s your fault… always you…”

Albatross answers quietly, in a deep voice:
“And I’m always happy about it.”

The tension between them is no longer burning—
it’s warm, soft, and safe.

Phoenix is no longer just embarrassed.
She’s happily embarrassed.

And Albatross enjoys every second of it.

As they leave the restaurant, Phoenix walks slightly ahead, trying to collect herself. Her face is still warm, her thoughts are messy, and every second moment she looks at Albatross… pretending she isn’t.

Albatross calmly catches up with long strides and walks beside her. For a while they walk in silence, the city’s evening lights shimmering around them.

Albatross (soft, deep voice):
“It was nice… hearing you talk about yourself.”

Phoenix lowers her head shyly.
“Yes… you too… and… it felt good… you were just… a bit too close.”

Albatross smiles.
“I’m glad.”

Phoenix freezes.
“About what?”

Albatross:
“That I was too close.”

Phoenix stops as if she’s hit a wall. Her ears instantly turn red.

“I… I didn’t mean it like that… just… distracting… but… not bad distracting… more like… the kind of distracting when… when…” her voice trails off.

Albatross turns toward her and steps closer—so close she can hear his breathing.

“The kind of distracting that makes your heart beat faster?” he asks softly, with a playful smile.

Phoenix swallows.
“I… I don’t… know… maybe… perhaps… yes…” she mutters, staring at her shoes.

Suddenly Albatross takes Phoenix’s hand. He doesn’t squeeze it—just gently, softly touches it.

“I like it when I make you flustered like this,” he says deeply.

Phoenix looks up.
“But why?”

Albatross:
“Because then I see that I matter to you.”

Phoenix’s eyes widen, the air around her seems to stop.
“How… how do you know that?”

Albatross:
“From the way you look at me. In the studio. In the restaurant. Always. Even when you try to hide it.”

Phoenix turns away, but Albatross gently touches her chin to turn her back.

“You don’t have to hide it,” he says softly.

Phoenix’s voice trembles a little.
“I… I’m just afraid… that if I let you get close… you’ll disappear.”

Albatross looks at her seriously, deeply.

“I’m not going anywhere. If you don’t send me away… I’ll stay.”

Silence.
Soft, warm, safe silence.

Phoenix breathes more slowly, trying to believe what she hears.

Albatross leans a little closer—but doesn’t touch her, letting Phoenix decide.

They start walking again side by side.

Phoenix whispers, barely noticeable, with a small smile:
“This… is good.”

Albatross:
“Yes.”
And with his thumb, he gently strokes the back of Phoenix’s hand.
“Exactly like this is good.”