‘Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive

  Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive.’

  “Yeah, hello?” I muttered, squinting at the ceiling, already annoyed by the ringtone so early in the damn morning.

  ‘Hello, Princess, you up?’

  “J-Julia?” I shot upright in bed. “It’s… It’s seven in the morning. Did something happen?”

  ‘What? No,’ she said casually over the phone. ‘I was just calling to ask if you were ready for tonight, silly.’

  Ma’am… it is seven in the goddamn morning. We’re going out at, like, eight PM.

  “Oh, yeah, definitely,” I replied instead, swallowing every complaint I had. “I just need to drop some papers off for my professor, and then I’m more or less done for the day.”

  ‘Perfect,’ she giggled, her voice sweet. ‘Then, dear Elio, meet me at the old market at eight. I’ll take you somewhere nice.’

  And without even giving me the chance to say goodbye, she ended the call.

  With a sigh, I let my phone slip from my hand and fall onto the bed beside me, my body following right after. Eyes fixed on the ceiling.

  It took me three fucking hours to fall asleep last night. I was more nervous than a general before a battle. My first actual date was finally here, and not with just anyone, mind you, but with the woman of my damn dreams. Well… ignoring the dreams about remaking the Roman Empire and all that.

  Three hours of trying to sleep. Four hours of actual sleep. Woken up at seven in the morning. Yeah. Plenty.

  I rolled out of bed. Best get ready.

  “Elio,” my professor looked at me, utterly confused by seeing me in front of him. “Is there something wrong?”

  “What?” I frowned before realizing what he meant. “No, professor. I just finished the papers you asked me for and came to drop them off.”

  “...” He stared dumbfounded at the papers in my hand. “Elio, I gave you that project three days ago. It was supposed to be for the end of the semester in a month’s time. It was pretty hefty research. Have you really finished it so soon?”

  “Yes, sir,” I nodded, offering him the stack of seventy papers. “The Prince and the flaws within Machiavellianism.”

  He sighed, taking his glasses off. “Son, I appreciate your enthusiasm for it. In fact, I fear you are the only one with any enthusiasm for philosophy, so I would’ve given you a good grade either way. But… don’t you have anything else better to do? A job? Friends?”

  I refuse to believe a professor is actually complaining about doing the work they gave out to do. Is this what the world has really come to? For an old fool to take pity on… never mind.

  “S-Sir,” I stuttered, my anxiety already flaring up. “I-I have a job, and a d-date tonight, but friends… You know what they call me.”

  “Ah, yes… sorry about that,” he replied, uncomfortable with the subject. He knew, after all, how bad it got. “Then, let me grade this up over the course of the week, and I will let you know how you do. And congratulations on the new record of quickest turnaround to an assignment.”

  With a palpable disdain, I nodded, spun on my heel, and headed toward the exit of the classroom, but the professor’s voice stopped me.

  “Elio.”

  “Professor?” I turned, asking.

  “Epictetus says in The Enchiridion that Happiness and freedom begin with a clear understanding of one principle: Some things are within our control, and some things are not. Stop listening to people and what they say about you, Elio, and you will come to find out that you will be happier, freer than those who try to bring you down with their random poison.”

  For a moment, I blinked, then nodded, saying, “Good day, professor,” before leaving the classroom.

  I always hated stoicism. It never took into account the reality of one’s life. It is so easy to just say ‘don’t listen to the noise,’ but when you’ve heard the same stupid joke for more than two decades, you turn to realize that some noise cannot just be blocked, no matter how much you try to.

  “Count Dracula,” a student bowed sarcastically as I walked through a random hallway.

  See? Time to put on my sunglasses.

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  The hours passed quickly once I was back in my rented apartment, despite my increasing nervousness.

  A bowl of instant ramen, some videos to go along with it, and a quick nap later, I started preparing for the date ahead, putting on the best clothes I had in my repertoire. Best not to fuck this one up.

  And after almost cancelling three times, crying once, and slowly getting cold feet about this whole date, I left through the door of my apartment, rushing to be there earlier than anticipated. One of the caretakers back at the orphanage always used to say, ‘First impressions are the best. But if the first one goes wrong, make sure the second impression is even more memorable.’

  We knocked each other out as our first impression of each other. Hopefully, this one would go better. But there was an issue. After picking up a bouquet of roses from an old lady selling them on the sidewalk, I found myself standing in front of the old market an hour earlier, like a dumbass, with people casually staring at me and my looks.

  Forgive this one for being born with certain medical conditions, you JUDGEMENTAL BITCHES!

  Still, there was nothing I could do but bite my lip and wait, despite my ever-increasing heartbeat.

  But then…

  “Elio?” a voice called out for me from somewhere to my right, prompting me to turn and take a look. When I saw her appearing mere minutes after I arrived far too early, my tension skyrocketed, making my anxiety kick off, sweat already building on my forehead.

  She was a gorgeous sight, dressed in a simple white dress with a black blouse layered over it, looking like a fallen goddess trying very hard to pass as casual. Her red hair and green eyes stood out all the more against the outfit she’d chosen.

  “J-Julia,” I muttered, turning toward her, bouquet of roses almost pointed toward her as if it were a weapon to keep her at a distance.

  She chuckled lightly, seeing me panicked. “Are you gonna swing that at me?”

  “They are… for you,” I managed before having to look away.

  At those words, I saw her approaching me with the corner of my eye, reaching for the flowers. “Thank you. That’s sweet. But now, since we both decided to come an hour earlier, why not start early?”

  “W-We could,” I replied, meeting her eyes. “But where to?”

  “Now now, good sir,” she clicked her tongue repeatedly, tapping my chest with the bouquet now in her hands. “Those are for me, what comes next is for you. So trust me on this one.”

  It was weird. After that event in the hallway, we exchanged numbers and socials, where we started talking for a bit before I proposed a date. It took me three days to gather the courage to write the message, and two more to actually turn on my phone and check her reply.

  But afterward, she took the lead in planning, handling a reservation to an undisclosed spot, and chose the time and date. It made me more than happy to see her so involved and glad to go out with me, but… at the same time, it felt too good to be true. It felt as if a cameraman would jump out from a nearby dumpster, making fun of me through some elaborate internet prank.

  Yet… nothing came. No cameraman, no prank, no making fun of poor old Elio.

  We’ve arrived in front of a way-too colorful building, Julia’s eyes glistening with excitement.

  “This is my spot,” she claimed, her smile wide. “Here you will be reborn, Elio. Believe me.”

  Reborn? Am I being recruited into some weird, underground cult?

  “W-What is this place?” I asked, visibly panicking.

  “What else?” she smiled. “A game club.”

  And just like that, she took me by the hand, pulling me inside before I could change my mind.

  Inside, past the ten rows of computers and people playing on them, stood a cashier, a normal lounge, and a flight of stairs. She took me straight to the steps, waving at the cashier as if they were old acquaintances.

  “We aren’t paying?” I asked, confused.

  “Of course not, I am a VIP Member,” she grinned, turning to look at me. “I have access to everything whenever I want to… in between working hours, of course.”

  She said it so confidently that it was almost frightening. I didn’t know if she was born into money or just a maxed-out nerd, but it meant all the same for me. She was gorgeous, so I went along with it. Even joining a cult didn’t sound that bad if she brought me to it.

  But instead, she brought me to a worse place. A private karaoke room.

  “Julia… I-”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupted, placing a hand between the two of us. “I will sing. You listen. If you plan to sing afterward, fine. If not, let’s just have a good time, okay?”

  I could only nod to her, watching her rush to the microphone, picking up a song in the next second.

  Then… she began.

  She sucked at singing. God, was it awful. My ears burned.

  I couldn’t help but grimace at the sound, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

  “So,” she gasped for air, finishing the last of the lyrics. “How was it?”

  “Not a fan of… whatever that was,” I replied, knowing damn well I couldn’t lie to her. “To be fair, it made me want to stab a pencil into my eardrums, show mercy to them.”

  She blinked at me. Once. Twice. Then, when I thought I might have gone too much, thinking of a quick apology, she instead started laughing, microphone still in her hands, making me cover my eyes at lightning speed.

  “Ah, sorry,” she muttered, turning off the mic before she kept on laughing for a good minute. “Was it that bad?”

  “Worse.”

  “Bahahaha. Do you think you could do better?” she asked.

  At that point, a dying squirrel had more chances of having a higher score than she did, so I nodded.

  “Way better.”

  “A challenge then,” she grinned, taking the microphone and offering it to me. “Prove it.”

  But I was anxious, my mind barely able to focus on the date ahead of us. So I shook my head. As much as I liked her company, I couldn’t wipe away who I was for the last two decades, regardless of how much I wanted to.

  Yet, when I shook my head, all she did was smile and keep on singing, until I, myself, out of sheer pain and desperation, snatched the microphone away and started singing in her stead.

  It wasn’t glorious, but it was way better than she was. I did it not because I wanted to, but because it was safer.

  But then, as the song ended, as I turned and saw her grinning from ear to ear, it dawned on me what she meant earlier. ‘What comes next is for you,’ and using her curse of singing, she somehow managed to do just that. Made me sing. Made me forget. Made me get past my fear.

  I kissed her that very night afterward.

  It was a good first date. I just hope the rest of our relationship will go just as well, never to end.

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