Chapter Text
The gray-haired man looked at his reflection in the hand mirror he had placed on his desk while smoothing down a few stray hairs. When he finished, he couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes—irremovable marks left by time. He made a slight grimace of disapproval before sliding the mirror into the bottom drawer of his desk. Almost as if perfectly timed, the intercom rang.
“Mabel Tanaka is here to see you,” his secretary announced.
He waited a couple of seconds, cleared his throat, and replied,
“Send her in.”
He stood up and walked toward the door of his office, having already rehearsed a casual greeting and handshake. However, before he could reach the handle, it turned, and the door burst open. A smaller figure stepped in, raising her hand with a bright smile.
“Hey, old man—” she shut the door with a loud slam that almost made him flinch. Now they stood face to face.
Messy hair, a cream-colored T-shirt with a green print that read Eco > Ego.
“Mabel, what have I told you about slamming my office door?” The man’s brow furrowed briefly.
“Yeah, yeah, I missed you too.” He watched her walk right past him, rolling her eyes as she headed toward the navy-blue leather couch on the left side of the room.
He let out a deep sigh. He had called her. He had asked her to come. He repeated it in his mind.
“How’s your final semester going?” he asked, trying to stick to his script of casual conversation as he watched her sit down.
“Pretty intense, to be honest.” Sitting now, the young woman immediately noticed a silver plate on the coffee table, filled with chocolate cookies.
“They’re vegan,” Jerry commented, sitting beside her on the couch—though at a careful distance. He had to hide a smile when he saw her face almost light up with joy.
“Damn, you really did miss me.” she joked, leaning forward to grab one and immediately taking a bite.
“Quiet,” he replied, rolling his eyes, though he knew it was true.
He had missed her. She had been gone for almost two months, which was unusual considering how small Beaverton was—and how relentless she tended to be in opposing every project he proposed for the city. He also knew it was her final semester, that she had a demanding project requiring time, focus, and attention. Still, going from having her practically hovering around him to not hearing from her for weeks had made him realize just how habitual her presence had become in his routine. And that project wasn’t the only thing demanding her attention.
“They’re delicious.” She finished the cookie in two bites under his triumphant gaze. He had baked them himself that morning, thinking it would be a nice gesture—of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that. “I should take some with me later…”
“Of course, take as many as you want.”
“Ethan’s gonna love them.”
Jerry’s expression shifted instantly from triumph to confusion. Had she just mentioned a guy?
“Who?” The surprise in his voice was impossible to hide.
“Ethan,” she repeated, stretching the name as if it were obvious. “I told you about him last semester, don’t you remember? He’s my… project partner.”
The slight pause didn’t go unnoticed, but his mind was already busy trying to recall who she meant.
Ethan, Ethan, Ethan…
Right. Now he remembered. A skinny, absent-minded guy with glasses—her own description—whom she had crashed into months ago, the same one who had accidentally broken her river basin model. Ethan.
“I thought you hated him,” he added, puzzled.
“I thought so too, but after that little incident, he invited me out for coffee as an apology, and we started talking.” She shrugged as if it were obvious.
“And now you’re doing the project together,” he concluded, watching her stare at the ceiling for a moment before nodding without looking at him.
“Right… great. It’s good you’re not handling the workload alone,” he said, trying not to dwell on it. But he couldn’t ignore the strange feeling settling in his chest.
The idea of Mabel interacting with another man—a boy—had never really formed in his mind before.
“And how’s the mayor’s office?” she asked, trying to shift the suddenly heavy atmosphere. “You must be enjoying these weeks without me breathing down your neck over your plans.”
“You say ‘plans’ like they’re something evil.” His tone grew more serious.
“Forgive me for thinking that harming natural ecosystems is a bad thing.”
“That was one time,” he shot back immediately. “And in case you don’t remember, I almost died because of you.”
“Kind of poetic, if you think about it. I was going to be the cause of your death.” She said it quickly, intending it as a dumb joke.
But it sank deeper than expected into his mind, as he kept staring at every detail of her profile.
As the minutes passed, the atmosphere gradually returned to something more familiar—like it had been over the past two years since the incident. Jerry told her how his mother was doing and that she sent her regards, even inviting her to dinner. Mabel talked about her plans to work with Dr. Sam after graduating—something she had already set her sights on, she just needed to be accepted. “Minor detail,” she joked.
Every now and then, their eyes met as they laughed at teasing remarks thrown between them.
“If Dr. Sam doesn’t take you, you can always work with me,” he reminded her. It wasn’t the first time he had suggested it.
“First you’d have to open a Department of Environmental Services,” she said, raising an eyebrow. She knew he wouldn’t—right?
“I’m the mayor, in case you forgot.” Pride colored his voice.
“Wouldn’t that be nepotism?”
“Nepo babies are trending.”
“Well, better a nepo baby than a sugar baby or whatever.”
“What?” He frowned at the term.
Mabel couldn’t help laughing at his expression—she sometimes forgot how proper he could be. However, the sound of her laughter was cut short by her phone ringing from her jeans pocket.
Jerry couldn’t help glancing at the screen when she pulled it out.
Ethan. And a clover emoji.
He checked his watch. Almost 7 p.m. A friday. Why would he call her at this hour when they could talk during the week?
He watched her decline the call and send a quick message instead, tilting the phone slightly as she typed.
“Done,” she said, putting her phone away. “Where were we?”
“You should’ve answered,” he said, trying to sound understanding.
“Nah, it wasn’t urgent.”
“Your generation avoids calls and prefers texting. If someone calls, it’s usually important.”
“My generation?” she echoed mockingly. “You sound like an old man—and wait, how did you know it was someone my age?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“I just assumed,” he muttered.
“You’re nosy,” she teased. “You looked at my screen, didn’t you?”
“Of course not.” His tone wasn’t convincing—and he knew it. “Well, even if I did, what’s the problem? You meddle in all my work affairs like a surprise audit. You don’t get to complain.”
She let out a small laugh.
“It was Ethan,” she admitted.
“And?” he pressed, his gaze making her pause.
“And what?”
“What did he want?” He leaned slightly closer, brow furrowed.
“Why do you need to know?”
“Curiosity.”
“Nosy,” she shot back, mimicking him and leaning closer too.
“You’re still not answering.”
“You know how childish you sound, right?”
Yes, he knew perfectly well. This argument was bordering on ridiculous—but he had already started it, and he couldn’t stop.
“A kid can’t call me childish,” he provoked, looking down at her due to their height difference.
“I’m 21,” she shot back, and a shared memory of a past argument flashed through both their minds.
“Still not answering,” he insisted.
Their faces were now closer than before. He had to admit—it was something he had secretly started to miss. Every argument ended like this, invading each other’s personal space. It was her way of showing she didn’t care if he was the damn mayor. His way was to prove that a girl wouldn’t intimidate him… or at least, that’s how it started.
Somewhere along the way, he had stopped focusing on her complaints and started noticing the way her cheeks flushed slightly when she got angry, how expressive her thick eyebrows were, how large her eyes looked when she stared up at him, and just how freckled she was.
He had even considered counting them one day—just out of curiosity, he told himself.
“Stop acting like you’re my father,” she suddenly said, though there was hesitation in her voice.
He cleared his throat and stepped back, adjusting himself properly in his seat. She mirrored him.
“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “I’m just worried about you.”
She almost laughed at how quickly his mood shifted. Do men go through menopause too? she wondered but she had to admit, it felt good hearing him say that.
“I’ll get some water,” he said, standing and walking toward the minibar.
Her eyes followed him as she debated whether to tell him the truth.
He had been acting strange all day—ever since he texted her that morning asking if she had time to visit after class. She knew they hadn’t seen each other in a while. She had her reasons… reasons that had grown over those months. One of them, a particularly foolish one, she hadn’t dared to say out loud.
She could tell him. They were friends, right?
Her gaze stayed fixed on him as if pulled by a magnet. She watched him bend down, open the minibar, and grab a bottle of water. Her eyes lingered on his arms as he stood and twisted the cap open—his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, veins briefly more pronounced with the movement.
Her throat went dry, and she felt the urge to snatch the bottle from him and drink it herself.
There it was again—that knot in her stomach she had been avoiding.
The one that appeared when his gaze lingered too long on her face. When he complimented her. When their eyes met.
Just like now.
There was one of the reasons she had been avoiding him.
“He’s my boyfriend.”
And there was the other.
The words reached Jerry instantly, and he processed them just as fast—spitting out part of the water he had just taken.
Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend.
The word echoed in his mind as he wiped his mouth with his forearm.
Mabel has a boyfriend.
“You’re serious?” he asked, unable to hide the surprise.
“I’m serious,” she replied, though her tone sounded as unsure as she felt.
“A boyfriend? The kind you hold hands with and kiss?” The questions slipped out before he could stop himself.
“Gosh, Jerry, yes. Don’t make this more awkward,” she groaned, covering her face.
He sat down again, and she could feel his presence at the other end of the couch, though she didn’t dare look at him.
“Those are great news,” he said, though his tone sounded almost defeated.
“It’s not a big deal.” She looked at him again, confused. “Is it really that strange that someone could like me?”
His expression was unreadable. Of course it wasn’t strange—especially when he himself—
“No, it’s not that,” he hesitated. “It’s just… you’ve never really talked about guys, so this is kind of unexpected.”
“It’s not like I’ve had a lot of options,” she shrugged.
“Gosh… I just…”
“Damn, it’s like I just told you someone died.”
“Sorry, I—um… I don’t really know what to say. I guess I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
It felt dangerously close to a confession.
“Have you ever mentioned guys before? Is he your first boyfriend?”
“…Yes.”
His chest tightened. He forced himself to remain neutral.
Her first boyfriend. Her first kiss. Her first—
He cut that train of thought immediately.
“How long?”
“About a month… officially?” Her tone wavered—she wasn’t entirely sure about the timeline. She couldn’t even pinpoint the exact day he had asked her to be his girlfriend, just like she still wasn’t completely sure why she had said yes.
He was a pretty calm guy, passionate about nature just like her. He had confessed that he had admired her for a long time, ever since he learned everything she had done to save the glade. He had been giving her little details here and there, and between coordinating their project, they had ended up spending more time together, growing comfortable around each other.
Comfort. That was it.
She felt comfortable with him… but she also felt comfortable with Jerry. The comparison had terrified her at first, but deep down she knew why it existed. With Jerry, that comfort was mixed with adrenaline—and uncertainty. There were moments when she felt like the connection between them was mutual, something beyond friendship. But her rational side always grounded her, reminding her those were just her own daydreams. There was no way her intrusive thoughts could ever become reality, and she needed some way to escape them.
“Well, that explains why you’ve been nowhere to be seen,” he said, a bitter chuckle slipping through.
“It’s not like that, really—it’s just been college,” she insisted.
“Yeah… whatever.”
“I.. I think I should go now…” she added, her voice softer, hesitant.
The older man knew he was messing this up—making everything more uncomfortable for her—but he couldn’t control himself the way he usually could. He knew it was better for her to leave, even if he still wanted to ask more questions.
“Do you want me to drive you?”
“Don’t worry, I left my skateboard outside.”
In an awkward, almost funeral-like silence, they both stood. Jerry opened the door for her.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?” he asked again.
“No, really, it’s fine.” She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “See you one of these days.”
He simply nodded. But just before she could step out completely, a last-second impulse made him grab her wrist, turning her back to face him.
“Mabel.” He bit his lower lip slightly, choosing his next words carefully. “Be careful. I really hope everything goes well… and if you ever need to talk about anything, you can come to me whenever you want.”
She looked at him for a few seconds. She knew he meant it completely.
“Thanks, Jerry.”
He nodded, holding her gaze a moment longer before letting go and watching her leave.
When the door finally closed, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. As he walked back to his black leather chair, he loosened his dark green tie and let himself fall into the seat. He rested his elbows on the desk, bringing his hands up to his face, running them through his hair.
That night, he regretted only having water and bottled teas in his office instead of a bottle of whiskey.