Evie stood alone on the balcony, her eyes fixed on the pouring rain as she clutched the book she had found for Max. Her thoughts were consumed by worry and longing for him, the canceled plans weighing heavily on her heart. She couldn't shake the feeling that Max was sacrificing his future for something ephemeral.
Meanwhile, Edward and Carlo walked through the bustling campus, deep in conversation about Max. The rain-soaked ground reflected the dim lights, creating an ethereal ambiance. The sound of raindrops hitting the leaves filled the air, punctuating their steps.
Carlo couldn't help but express his surprise at Max's unexpected agility. "I didn't think Max could run so fast," he said, glancing at Edward. "He's always so calm, so seeing him dash off like that is unlike him."
Edward chuckled and replied, "Well, it just goes to show that even for our 'cyborg' Max, there's still a little bit of human left in him."
Carlo furrowed his brow, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Edward smiled mischievously. "I mean, even someone as composed as Max can't resist the allure of chasing after something with all their might. It's that willingness to give up everything for what they desire that sets them apart." He patted Carlo on the back playfully. "Even you can appreciate that."
Carlo's confusion lingered. "I'm not sure I understand."
Edward's smile widened. "Because it gives him the ability to run in the rain," he said, his voice full of wonder. "And sometimes, that's a beautiful thing."
"But you know," Edward continued, his tone growing more serious, "this world was designed to prevent people from easily attaining their desires, even if their arms are longer than mine."
As they approached the main building, a flurry of students rushed past them, their excited voices filling the air. Intrigued, Carlo asked Edward, "Are the contest results for the exhibitions out today?"
Edward's eyes lit up with excitement. "Alright, let's go and check it out!"
The two friends maneuvered through the crowd, curiosity propelling them forward. When they reached the front, their jaws dropped in astonishment at the sight before them. A large canvas displayed a mesmerizing painting of cherry blossoms and a tranquil pond. The colors were vibrant, the brushstrokes exuding both grace and depth. The attention to detail was impeccable, capturing the essence of the scene in breathtaking precision.
Edward and Carlo stood side by side, staring at the painting in amazement. Edward's eyes shifted to a nearby banner, confirming the results. "The 73rd Crescendo Art University School Exhibition Grand Prize Winner: Honeylyn Beaumont," he read aloud. His voice held a mix of surprise. The revelation left them speechless.
Edward's gaze shifted to a nearby banner, confirming the results. He saw his own name listed as the second runner-up. Conflicting emotions flooded his mind, a mix of surprise, admiration, and a hint of something he couldn't quite comprehend. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for Edward, a feeling he wasn't accustomed to.
Carlo, too, was overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions as he stared at the painting. Memories of that day by the pond resurfaced, replaying in his mind like a film. He began a heartfelt feeling within himself.
"I remember seeing this scenery before. Standing there, watching the delicate cherry blossoms dance in the wind. Time flowed past, but she was different. Right beside me, she fought against its current, striving to capture a moment that would never return. Silently, she battled alone, preserving the fleeting beauty of that miraculous scene."
Edward's sudden burst of energy and erratic behavior left Carlo dumbfounded. "Edward, wait!" he called out, desperately trying to catch up as they dashed through the rain-soaked campus. Other students watched in surprise as the two friends weaved through the crowd, their footsteps echoing in the hallway.
"Slow down, Edward! What's gotten into you?" Carlo pleaded, his voice filled with concern. But Edward paid no heed, his focus fixed on a destination known only to him. They raced outside the campus grounds, raindrops pelting their faces, and Carlo strained to keep up with Edward's relentless pace.
Finally, Edward darted into another building, and Carlo followed suit, breathless and bewildered. They sprinted through the halls, jostling past students who glanced at them in confusion. "Edward, please, just tell me what's going on!" Carlo shouted, his words laced with urgency.
Their frantic footsteps led them to Professor Arthur's laboratory, where the professor was roused from his slumber by the commotion. "What in the world is happening here?" Professor Arthur asked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Edward barged in without a second thought, disregarding Professor Arthur's inquiries.
With a determined stride, Edward entered Honey's painting room. Inside, Honey stood frozen in surprise as she locked eyes with Edward. His intense gaze bore into her, and before she could comprehend what was happening, he enveloped her in a tight embrace. Honey's eyes widened further, caught off guard by Edward's sudden display of affection. Arthur, who had followed Edward into the room, observed the scene with a mix of curiosity and confusion.
"Honey, you're amazing," Edward declared, his voice brimming with sincerity. As he held her arms gently, he continued, "Your art has touched something deep within me. I can't remember the last time my heart was moved like this." His words carried a mixture of astonishment and gratitude.
Edward released Honey from the hug but maintained a firm grasp on her arms, his eyes never leaving her. "Thank you, Honeylyn Beaumont," he expressed, his voice tinged with genuine appreciation. He let out a soft chuckle, his joy evident, as he added, "Your talent has left an indelible mark on me."
Carlo stood on the periphery, witnessing the scene unfold with a jumble of emotions. Part surprise, part confusion, and perhaps a tinge of envy. His gaze shifted between Edward and Honey, a complex mix of feelings washing over him. The bonds of friendship and unspoken connections seemed to intertwine in that moment, leaving Carlo to question his own place in this shifting dynamic.
Arthur's abrupt entrance disrupted the tender moment between Edward and Honey. "Edward!" he called out with a tone tinged with anger, swiftly moving to separate them. Edward, taken aback by the sudden interruption, quickly defended himself, assuring Arthur that his intentions were innocent. "I was just giving her a hug. I'm not a pervert, you know," he insisted.
Concern etched across his face, Arthur turned his attention to Honey, his voice softened. "Are you alright, Honey?" he asked, seeking reassurance. Honey responded with a simple nod, her emotions hidden beneath her serene exterior. Arthur let out a deep sigh, relief washing over him as he realized there was no cause for alarm.
Breaking the tension, Edward's voice rang out with a sense of happiness and contentment. "You know, Arthur, I'm glad I stayed in college," he declared, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "I truly believe it was worth those seven years."
Arthur's smile warmed as he acknowledged the significance of Edward's revelation. He understands the newfound purpose that Edward had discovered.
Edward's gaze lingered on Honey, a spark of anticipation in his eyes. Sensing her impending words, he held her arms gently, his voice filled with curiosity and affection. "Honey, what is it?" he prompted, waiting for her to share her thoughts.
Honey, who had been silent until now, mustered the courage to speak. Her voice, a delicate and tentative melody, broke the silence. "I... I like your piece, Edward." she managed to utter, her words trailing off. A smile bloomed on her face, radiating a genuine appreciation for Edward's artistry. They stood in awe, stunned by the sound of Honey's voice for the first time.
Edward's own smile widened, infused with a sense of joy and amusement. Chuckling softly, he addressed Arthur. "You heard that, Arthur? It's been so long since someone's artwork has moved me like this," he shared, his voice brimming with sincerity.
Arthur, observing the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and nodded.
In the midst of this unfolding moment, Carlo's emotions churned within him, a maelstrom of conflicting feelings. Listening to Honey's hesitant words and witnessing the blossoming connection between Edward and Honey, he couldn't help but feel an inexplicable ache deep within his heart. As his mind began to wander, Carlo pondered the enigmatic nature of their relationships and the intricate web of desires and longings that had woven its way into their lives.
"This is the first time I heard her voice. Hearing the voice I yearned for, my heart somehow ached a little. I was close to her, but for some reason she seemed far away."
In the dimly lit pottery room, Evie's hands expertly mold and shape the ground and clay mixture, creating a pot with care and precision. The room is cast in shadows, a reflection of the gloomy rain outside. As Evie immerses herself in her work, the weight of earlier events lingers in her mind, refusing to be ignored. She fights back the surge of sadness that threatens to consume her, but the memories of what transpired with Max prove too potent, and tears trickle down her cheeks, mixing with the dirt on her hands.
"I'm sorry. We'll have to postpone our dinner plans for now."
"Max!"
Interrupting her solitude, Edward barges into the pottery room with a typical lack of subtlety. "Did you see Honey Beaumont's piece?" he asks, but Evie chooses to ignore him, focusing solely on the pottery before her. Edward, undeterred, takes a seat beside her, his gaze drawn to the tears streaming down Evie's face. A moment of silence hangs in the air, their unspoken connection palpable.
As his eyes shift to Evie's deformed pot, Edward's curiosity is piqued. Evie rises from her seat, fixing her gaze upon the rain-streaked window, while Edward settles into her vacated spot and begins molding a clay urn on the wheel. It's a subtle gesture of understanding and empathy, an unspoken attempt to alleviate the weight that burdens Evie's heart.
Breaking the silence, Evie called out to Edward, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and vulnerability. "Edward, can you solve riddles?" she asked, seeking a temporary diversion from her own anguish. Edward, intrigued, replied with confidence, "Sure, I'm pretty good with riddles."
With a solemn expression, Evie presented her riddle. "There was a girl who couldn't make someone run or stand still. How can this girl find happiness? If you get the answer, I'll give you 10,000 cash." Her voice trembled slightly, revealing the weight of her own search for solace.
Edward, his hands momentarily frozen in molding the clay into the shape of an urn, contemplated the riddle. A deep sigh escapes Edward's lips as he delves into the depths of his thoughts, searching for an answer that will unravel the enigma posed by Evie's riddle. The weight of the question hangs in the air, his mind racing to find a solution that holds the key to the girl's happiness.
In the quiet confines of the laboratory, Arthur and Carlo sat together, savoring the warmth of their coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed beans filled the air as they engaged in a contemplative conversation about Honey's artwork. Arthur, leaning casually against his table, gazed into the distance, his eyes reflecting a mix of admiration and intrigue.
"You know, Carlo," Arthur began, his voice laced with curiosity, "whenever I see Honey's artwork, I can't help but wonder how she sees the world. Just once, I'd like to experience it through her eyes."
Carlo, settling into a comfortable chair, nodded in agreement. "I've often thought the same," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of longing. "I want to see the world she lives in."
Taking a sip of his coffee, Arthur sighed contentedly. "To evoke such emotions in others with a mere brushstroke or a splash of color, that is what you call true talent. It's a gift that comes once in a lifetime."
Carlo, captivated by Arthur's words, leaned forward in his chair, his eyes filled with awe. "If I possessed such talent," he confessed, "I would be overjoyed to create art that resonates with people. To touch their hearts and leave a lasting impression."
With a gentle smile, Arthur stood up, his gaze fixated on the window. "But you see, Carlo," he began, his voice taking on a tone of reflection, "there is a certain freedom in not possessing Honey's level of talent. If it were me, I might find myself overwhelmed by the weight of it all. The absence of a clear goal or direction, the uncertainty of what lies ahead. Sometimes, simplicity can be a gift in itself."
Carlo's mind whirled with thoughts as he absorbed Arthur's words. The room fell into a momentary silence, the only sound being the soft patter of rain against the windowpane. The depth of Arthur's insight left Carlo grappling with his own emotions, questioning the nature of his desires and the pursuit of artistic excellence.
As Arthur turned his gaze back to the window, his words lingered in the air, leaving Carlo lost in introspection. The world outside seemed to blur as Carlo contemplated the delicate balance between talent, purpose, and the simplicity of finding one's own path in the vast tapestry of creativity.
Amidst the rain-soaked streets, Max and the woman who had called him on his cellphone exited the Ford Architecture Designs building. The architectural hub stood tall and imposing, its glass exterior reflecting the somber sky above. Max, his clothing dampened by the relentless downpour, held an umbrella high above the woman's head, shielding her from the rain.
The woman, dressed in a brown coat with a black bag slung over her left shoulder, exuded an air of professionalism. Her short hair framed her face, emphasizing her focused expression. Walking alongside them was another woman, donned in a purple office uniform with a white polo shirt underneath. A pair of purple glasses adorned her face, adding a touch of elegance to her ensemble.
"Sorry for calling you out here in such inclement weather," the other woman said, her tone apologetic. She glanced at Max with a grateful smile. "But it's because Max came that we were able to make progress on this project."
The woman in the brown coat reassured her, offering a warm smile. "It's alright. It's a good thing that Max came." she replied, her voice calm and composed.
Max, ever humble, chimed in, "You're welcome. It was my pleasure to assist."
The other woman nodded appreciatively, acknowledging Max's unwavering commitment. "Thank you for your hard work and unwavering commitment, Max. We couldn't have completed this project without you."
Max's expression remained modest as he nodded in response. "It's a team effort. I'm glad I could contribute."
As they prepared to depart, Max unfurled the umbrella, its protective canopy shielding the woman from the relentless raindrops. With each step they took, Max's own clothes grew increasingly damp, his selflessness evident in his willingness to endure the discomfort for the sake of others.
In the bustling architecture office, the air buzzed with creativity and ambition. Tables and computers adorned the open workspace, each station a hub of design ideas and projects in progress. The office emanated an atmosphere of productivity, with architects and designers engrossed in their work.
One particular woman, wearing glasses that added a touch of sophistication to her appearance, returned to the building after accompanying Max and the woman on their earlier venture. She walked with purpose, her steps confident and determined. As she entered the office, her gaze fell upon a guy who was studying a prototype design, meticulously examining each detail.
"Isn't Rika's design remarkable?" the woman with glasses remarked as she settled into her own workspace. She expressed her admiration for Rika's talent, appreciating the unique perspective she brought to their architectural endeavors.
The guy, wearing a brown coat over his white uniform polo, his own glasses perched on his nose, acknowledged Rika's brilliance. "Indeed, she's an exceptional designer. I never thought I'd see something of this caliber again," he responded, a hint of awe in his voice. He returned to his own desk, ready to resume his tasks.
"Don't speak of her as if she's an endangered species," the woman with glasses interjected playfully, her words carrying a hint of amusement. Another guy, seated in front of his computer, chuckled at her remark.
"But that young fellow who came with her certainly seems fond of her," the guy noted, referring to Max's earlier presence by Rika's side.
The woman let out a sigh, her expression filled with empathy. "I feel sorry for him," she confessed.
Curiosity piqued, the guy asked, "Why is that?"
The woman retrieved her walking stick, her hand gripping it with a sense of melancholy. "Unfortunately, Rika Ford will never be able to be with anyone," she stated with a hint of sadness in her voice.
Perplexed, the guy inquired, "Why is that?"
A solemn expression settled upon the woman's face as she replied, "Because there is someone who resides in her heart—a presence that will never fade away."