"Bad idea."

"What?" she said, truly surprised.

"I just don't want to play games with you again," I said with a peaceful shrug, trying to defend myself. But now hearing it like this, it sounded rude.

"Really? Then why even spend the time with me if I bore you that much? Just piss off!" she was angry.

"Heyyy," I reached for her hand, "I love spending time with you, Hazzie. It's just that every time we play one of you games," I searched for that right word to describe the wrecking trauma to my mental health that her games cause, "I lose."

"Coward."

"C'mon, don't be like that it's my birthday! Be nice to me and tell I am a beautiful man," and I blinked twice like a Barbie.

"Grow up," she frowned.

"Ugh! Hazzie. Please?" I reached out, pulling her into a hug.

"What do you want to do then? Write each other romantic poems? Or maybe take vows? What happened to your funny side? You're boring," she said, pulling away.

Although she only seemed teasing, a spark of panic electrified me. I am boring? Does she really think so? Is that why she went out with that scum!

"It's just that you make the rules extreme! You've got no limits, Hazel. You almost jumped off your window back then! And just yesterday, you played on your entire hair. It's just so stressful and it gets on my nerves! You play hard, baby," and I gave her my best puppy eyes.

"B-O-R-I-N-G. Boring, my friend," she rolled her eyes, "What if I risked my hair? Or even my life? The thrill is worth it. And the look on your face is, definitely, worth it," and she winked playfully.

"You're saying you're enjoying horrifying me?"

"The word 'Horrifying' is a bit intense. It's just nice to know that someone cares from time to time," and she looked away, if I wasn't mistakes, sad.

Cares? Just cares? I would kill for her. Anyone. Anytime. If she just says so. I would even die for her. A hundred times. Without hesitation. Not even for a second. And I don't know why. What is it that she has that overpowers me that bad? What is it that she has and I can't live without? Why am I so madly, blindly, hopelessly, in love with her? I don't know. But what I know is that I don't just "care". My concern about her goes beyond "caring". Maybe guardianship is even underrated.

I touched her chin, returning her gaze to me.

"You know well that I do more than just 'care'."

She stared at my face like she was trying to read her reply from it. She nodded. Silence grew denser.

"Okay, fine. I wouldn't go crazy with the rules, and just so you know," she stood up from where we were sitting and placed her hands on her hips, "I only gave in this time because it's your birthday."

She's an ancient portrait protected by Greeks and fought for by Romans. She's a sculpture of beauty in all tastes and shades. Even when she's a menacing psycho.

I smile, nodding automatically. I showed signs of having such behaviors when she's around lately.

"What are we playing then?" I asked cheerfully. I also tend to lie a lot these days. Because I wasn't cheerful. I was petrified. But because I would've made it into the cast of Hamlet, I made that sound cheerful and excited.

"Hide and seek," She smiled.

"Wow. On a rooftop?"

"Yep."

"How?"

She rubbed her hands together and shot her brows upward mischievously like she was about to come up with a plan to take over the world.

"I will tell you."

I listened to her as she explained the rules. That this five-floored building came to have two flats in each floor. One of these flats belongs to Hazel's so called friend. I hope he's really just a friend. So I should give her a minute to hop into his flat as "Hi-wassup" visit, and then once the minute is up I go knocking on every door till I find her. This isn't the problem, though. I could manage that. What I find truly awkward is what I am supposed to say once someone opens. The rules are that I lean across the door and ask, seductively, if Mike is home. Now I would've passed out of laughter if someone told me four months ago that I would be doing this one day for a girl. And now look at me; I am gladly doing it.

The minute's up. I wanted to sneak after her carefully and see which flat she ends up in just to savor my pride. It's not just my pride that ached, I also couldn't stand the thought of her with another man. Even if he was just a friend. But I didn't. I didn't sneak. I didn't cheat. It's not that I was scared. I was simply terrified. In addition to being boring, I would be a cheater. I know what you're thinking. I am overreacting, right? It's just a game. Why so serious? But no. I am not going to hold up the cheater's label even over a silly game. I am better off anything that annoy my baby.

I took the stairs on my way down. The fifth floor, huh? Something told me not to start with it. She could've settled for 30 seconds or something if the flat was that close. Right? I think I am just making excuses. Because I don't want to start with it. Or, let me put it this way, I don't want to start. I am starting to doubt my ability to do this. I'm wimping.

Then I remembered that Hazel is somewhere now with that man, probably alone. Maybe they're even sitting on the same couch. Too close that their shoulders. And maybe he's considering if she's single since she came alone. And because I am boring, she might, intentionally, avoid bringing me up. And then maybe he gets the wrong idea and starts hitting on her. What if she liked it? So blood raced through my vessels, hitting my brain with overdose nutrition. Pressure and heat as well. In two seconds, I was in the fourth floor. 4A it said. I knocked.

A man in his fifties opened the door. He was a mess. Wearing a basic, white tank top that does nothing to hide his stomach fat. Fattest belly I've seen in years. His hair is nasty and messy. His skin is ragged and unhygienic. And his tank top is all stained up. His hands seemed greasy as well. I wouldn't go near those hands ever. His eyes were red and wavering. Wait, is he high? I bet he is.

"What is it?" he asked with a shrieking voice.

"Umm..."

"I ain't got the whole day!" he made it clear he knew not of patience with that tone and voice.

Now I was supposed to go all slutty for this man?! He will probably assault me! I don't even think this is the right apartment. He's definitely not the friend she was talking about. I should just leave. But what if he's his father? Or just family? What if he was the camouflage she displayed and I gulped. Nope. Not happening. Not on my competitive watch.

I leaned across the door, and used the most seductive voice I could get out of my throat. I even used my eyes to get a full act.

"Is Mike home?"

"What Mike you FAGGOT! Get the hell away before I whip your ass! Piss off!" and he slammed the door.

Negative.

I took my defeated head above my shoulders and headed to 4B. I hesitated for a second for no reason. I knocked. An old woman in her eighties, if not nineties, opened the door. Her apartment smelled like cookies and bread. Like Thanksgivings and cozy winters. But most of all she smelled like mom.

"Can I help you, son?"

"Oh... good morning, Ma'am."

This can't be the right one. I am like 99.999999% sure. But that 0.0000001% of suspicion will kill me, I know. I didn't give it a second thought. I leaned across the door.

"Is Mike home?"

Her soft features converted into mild bewilderment.

"No son. You've got the wrong flat."

"Okay, ma'am. Sorry for disturbance."

"It's okay. You want a cookie?" and she picked one from a plate, hidden behind the door. So I did smell cookies.

"You really don't have to. Thank you really," I said, as my insides begged for that cookie. I wasn't hungry. I was just madly craving that cookie.

"No, kid. Just take it. It's rude not to welcome a guest," and she handed it to me with the warmest smile that I had received since my mother died. I felt at home. Now I miss home.

I took the cookie. She gently patted me on the shoulder and then closed the door, slowly. All I could do was stare at that cookie for a while. That smell was gold. So was the texture. I couldn't resist it, but I also needed to relish it well. That went better than fine. It somewhat made up for my first acquaintance. I hope the rest go as smooth. And I hope the next door is the last one. I just hope he's giving her a decent personal space. And it would be great if they weren't alone. But what I really hope for is another cookie. I take a bite.

3A and I knock.

"Can I help you?" a tall stunning blond said with an alluring smile. Only four months ago I would've never left this building without her number. But no. she can be beautiful. But she's not Hazzie. Not even comparable.

I leaned without hesitation this time.

"Is Mike home?"

She looked at me for a moment as her excitement evolved into mere disappointment.

"Nope. Wrong address."

"Okay. Sorry for disturbance."

"Not at all. And if you didn't find that Mike and you still want some company, my door is knockable."

She winked at me half disappointed and, yet, half hopeful. I gave her a weak smile and turned around towards 3B. The door closed in a manner a bit severe for normal and still a bit mild for a slam. Like she was offended but not really. Who cares? I've got doors to knock on.

I knocked on every door from 3B to 1A. I was met by different reactions like confusion, annoyance, laughter, and even admiration. Ones in between as well. Now 1B. I was losing my patience. I knocked.

"Yes. Do I know you?" a young female asked with a warm smile. She seemed to be in her late twenties. Had a short stature and a curvy frame. She's totally the right material for a wife. Wait. A wife? Oh, please be it. If he's married then there was no reason to worry. I wanted to sigh in relief but something told me it's not yet a fact. There are two more flats that I've not checked yet. Sober up. We're almost there. I leaned across the door. She took a step back and eyed me cautiously.

"Is Mike home?"

"No. There isn't a Mike here."

That took me off guard.

"What? Really?"

"Yes, sir. Is there something else you need?" she said with a temper. Trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. I also noticed that her grip on the door firmed further with every second. I was definitely misunderstood.

"Oh, no. No. Nothing. I am sorry for disturbance. I'll be leaving now. Thank you."

She nodded with an expression better than contempt and closed the door. I am way more shook to be just disappointed. After all these apartments I had to pass by, I am going back to the one floor I decided not to check. It's more ironic than it seems when you get to experience it yourself. But how could it be that easy? Or maybe she knew I would think that it wouldn't be that easy so she decided to mind-hustle me and make it so easy. Or her friend just FREAKING LIVES IN THE FIFTH FLOOR! I am so full of conspiracy theories they're taking over my life. I climb the stairs.

I decided to knock on 5B first. I did.

A man in his early thirties opened the door. He looked tanned and strong. His flannel shirt tight enough to outline each and every muscle of that build up body. His smile was broad and captivating. And, in my very right state of mind, I admit he's damn handsome. He make me look like the ugly cousin next to him. I have to say that this is the first time I catch up such a feeling.

"Yes," he said with a charming smile.

"Mike?" that's all I can manage.

"Excuse me?"

I clear my throat and lean across the door.

"Is Mike home?"

He stared at me for some time like he wasn't sure how to reply. Then his confused face broke into a chuckle and he playfully patted me on the shoulder.

"Come in. We've been waiting since forever, man!"

As I walked in, I couldn't stop wondering who would open if I knocked on 5A.