"You guys handle it first." Edward Harris asked in a low voice, "Is there a café here?"

Hearing this, the manager looked relieved and nodded repeatedly. "Yes, it's right over in the lobby on the first floor. I'll take you there."

Edward Harris glanced over. "Thank you, I see it."

After declining the manager, he walked toward Eric Wright.

As he got closer, he gradually made out Eric Wright's voice. He sounded exhausted, but still politely repeated his request to the front desk, "You don't need to apologize, and I don't need compensation. Just please help me check out as soon as possible. Sorry for the trouble."

He spoke slowly, with some difficulty, as if even getting these words out took a great deal of effort.

Just like when Eric Wright was packing his luggage earlier—the small white suitcase had fallen to the floor, and even picking it up was a struggle.

This reminded Edward Harris of how he used to be, as if nothing had changed.

The receptionist glanced at Edward Harris standing behind Eric Wright, then broke off the conversation with him and nodded apologetically to Edward Harris. Even so, Eric Wright didn't turn around.

"Want to grab a coffee?"

Eric Wright heard Edward Harris's voice—it sounded as if it drifted from six years ago, yet was right behind him.

"The checkout process will probably take a while too." There was a hint of a smile in Edward Harris's otherwise cool voice. "It's been a long time since we met. Let's catch up."

Eric Wright knew perfectly well that he wasn't in any state to "catch up" right now. He was sluggish and withdrawn, his thoughts a mess, and even taking another step felt exhausting.

He was going to refuse. He should have refused.

But his feet moved on their own, following behind Edward Harris, just like how he couldn't even get out of bed, but the moment he saw Edward Harris, he got up anyway.

Eric Wright had no idea how he ended up in the café, or how he ended up sitting face-to-face with him. It was like a dream he couldn't wake from, with a version of himself watching this awkward reunion from a third-person perspective.

It was cold outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. He could vaguely hear the wind, and the sky was much darker than before.

For some reason, Eric Wright didn't have the courage to face Edward Harris directly. Even though they were sitting face-to-face, it felt like there was a vast empty space between them, the ground covered in shards of glass, impossible to cross.

A waiter came to take their order. Edward Harris seemed much more relaxed than before, ordering coffee naturally, as if they were old friends with a good relationship. "One espresso, one latte, oat milk, extra sugar."

He thought he knew Eric Wright well enough that ordering according to his old habits was only natural.

"No sugar. Unsweetened."

To his surprise, the always-silent Eric Wright interrupted him.

Edward Harris looked over and saw him lift his eyes, repeating the order to the waiter, then softly said, "Sorry, I've quit sugar now."

He was speaking to him, but Eric Wright didn't look at him.

After a brief pause, he smiled. "My mistake, I should have asked first."

"I thought it was the same as before."

While waiting for the coffee, Edward Harris quietly gazed at Eric Wright sitting across from him. In that moment, he seemed to be questioning his earlier conclusion.

Eric Wright seemed unchanged, yet also very different.

He still had that beautiful appearance that made it easy for him to get anything he wanted, still able to easily hide his flaws and madness. He was still very thin—thinner than before. His hair was longer, falling beside his cheeks. It should have looked lazy, but because of his sickly and dazed state, even his beauty seemed gloomy.

The clear look in his eyes seemed to have lost that natural, unassuming pride he used to have. Edward Harris had thought it was something in his bones, something that would stay with him until death.

Eric Wright's face was unusually pale, with only a hint of color on his tightly pressed lips. He couldn't control the slight tremor in his hands, so he kept both hands under the table, pressing them against his knees.

When the coffee was served, Edward Harris took a sip and smiled. "Why aren't you talking?"

"Don't want to see me?"

Author's note:

Any potential triggers for this book have already been listed in the synopsis, so please check there. The most important thing is that this book uses [interludes/flashbacks]. I'll mark the current timeline in the chapter title with an N, and flashbacks with a P. Both the top and bottom perspectives are included, roughly half and half. Finally, Eric Wright (the bottom) has a mental illness, both before and after the reunion.

Chapter 2 N. So Close, Yet So Far

Eric Wright lowered his eyes, staring at the milk foam floating on his coffee. His mind was detached, his clenched teeth touched, and finally he spoke, "I'm... doing well."

Maybe because his answer sounded so off-topic, Edward Harris smiled.

But he was used to Eric Wright being like this—scattered, illogical, because of his illness. This lack of change gave Edward Harris a slight sense of security.

Assistant Carl, upon hearing about his own major hotel booking blunder, rushed over before even finishing his meal. When Edward Harris didn't answer his call, he ran to the hotel and immediately spotted Edward Harris through the floor-to-ceiling windows.