A Café of Conversations
The café was quiet, save for the low hum of the vending machine in the corner. A few customers occupied scattered seats, their conversations blending into a soft murmur that filled the air. The scent of coffee and baked pastries lingered, mingling with the faint trace of rain from outside. Dim lighting cast warm hues over wooden tables, creating an almost intimate atmosphere—calm, welcoming.
A bit too welcoming.
I sat in my chair, watching Liesa, her sister Amella, and their friend Molly converse. Well, Liesa and Amella conversed. Molly's presence was more like a placeholder than an active participant.
Amella, ever the conversationalist, was trying to keep the discussion alive, her words brimming with enthusiasm.
"So I was worried she wouldn't take his spot in the class assistance."
Liesa nodded along, her usual bright energy on full display. "Right? It would've been such a pain to find a replacement!"
Molly, on the other hand, barely reacted. She simply sipped her drink, her deadpan response cutting through the energy like a knife.
"Well... woohoo. He's actually a dummy."
A pause.
Amella blinked, clearly caught off guard by the lack of enthusiasm.
Brimming with enthusiasm? Did I say that?
To be honest, she was struggling. Molly was an unmovable wall, absorbing Liesa's bright energy without giving any of it back. Liesa, ever the optimist, kept flashing her teeth in a wide grin, as if trying to infect Molly with her cheerfulness.
Molly wasn't biting.
Liesa suddenly turned to me. "Klein, wanna come with me to grab some snacks?"
I barely had a chance to process before Amella chimed in. "Yeah, that sounds good."
I was being dragged into this, wasn't I? My opinion meant little in the face of Liesa's impulsiveness.
Molly remained quiet, fingers lightly tapping against her cup. Judging from how she subtly recoiled at the suggestion, she had probably been dragged here too.
"No thanks," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Think I'll warm this seat for a while."
Liesa tilted her head, eyes squinting as if trying to decode what was wrong with me. A look that screamed, "What's your deal?" But I wasn't interested. My attention was on something else.
Amella glanced between Molly and Liesa before sighing. "Molly, what about you?"
Molly barely reacted, still twiddling with her fingers. Then, in the same flat tone as before, she muttered, "I'm good. I'm tired anyway."
And there it was—her polite way of saying, Leave me out of this.
Liesa shrugged, yanking Amella along before she could protest. Their exit left behind an expectant silence, a void waiting to be filled.
I turned to Molly.
She was already looking at me.
Her gaze wasn't one of curiosity or interest—it was filled with unspoken questions. A quiet, analyzing stare that stripped away all pretenses.
I sighed internally, bracing myself for what might be the most exhausting task in the world.
Talking to someone who didn't want to be talked to.
"So, uh..." I cleared my throat. "You come here often?"
I immediately wanted to punch myself in the face.
Molly arched a brow, her eyes dragging over me in a slow, unimpressed manner. If there was a ranking for the world's worst conversation starters, I just secured a spot in the top three.
"You're staring a little too much, senior. That's kinda creepy."
"Right. My bad."
She exhaled, finally averting her gaze to her lap, as if suddenly finding it fascinating.
"It's fine," she murmured. "You seem like a guy who doesn't talk much."
"Yeah, but between the two of us, I think you win that contest."
Her lips quirked upward—just barely. Not enough to be called a smile, but enough to let me know she noticed.
Molly was reserved, distant, and yet strangely observant. She was constantly reading people, as if trying to find the right category to place them in.
How did someone like her end up in a situation like bullying?
I leaned back, watching her carefully. She wore the school's standard uniform—a black blazer covering an ash-colored cardigan. A set of wristbands covered a significant portion of her forearms, leaving little skin visible. Her hair was a muted orange, subtly fading into yellow at the tips.
"Are you a friend of Liesa?" I asked, testing the waters.
Molly sipped her drink, twirling the straw between her fingers. Her gaze shifted to the glass window beside us, where rain drizzled lightly against the glass. The way she sat there, silhouetted against the outside world, was almost like a painting.
"A friend?" she repeated. "More like an acquaintance."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah." She exhaled. "Liesa's personality and mine don't really match."
Fair enough. Liesa was impulsive, loud, and forceful with her kindness. Molly was quiet, analytical, and kept people at a safe distance.
"Don't they say opposites attract?"
Molly let out a slow, lazy sigh, resting her cheek against her palm. Her eyes fluttered, and for a moment, she looked almost amused.
But no. It wasn't amusement.
She was dismissing me.
"If Liesa's a flame, then I'm gasoline," she murmured. "We'd make a pretty dangerous pair."
"That's one way to put it."
Molly didn't respond immediately. Instead, she drummed her fingers against her cup, her gaze unfocused.
I decided it was time to get to the point.
"Molly."
She glanced at me, tilting her head slightly.
"Amella worries about you, you know."
Her fingers stopped moving.
"She's been constantly concerned about you. You know that, right?"
Silence.
Molly leaned back in her seat, her fingers returning to the straw, stirring her drink aimlessly.
"I told her to stop worrying about me," she muttered.
"She won't."
Molly shot me a skeptical glance. There was no hostility, just doubt.
"If you guys are close," I continued, "why don't you tell her what's bothering you?"
Her expression flattened, her eyes refusing to meet mine.
"I'm not comfortable with this topic."
Her voice was quieter now. Almost defensive.
"I get that," I said. "But by shutting her out, you're making her feel useless."
That got her attention.
Her gaze snapped back to me, lips pressing into a thin line.
"Doesn't matter," she said. "I'd rather she be useless than get involved in my problems."
"But that's just it, Molly." I exhaled. "You just admitted there's a problem."
She tensed, her brows knitting together.
"Look," I said, voice softer. "Amella won't abandon you just because you have baggage. That's not how real friends work."
For a moment, Molly said nothing. Her gaze was unreadable, but something in her posture had shifted.
Right on cue, Liesa and Amella returned, interrupting the moment.
"Well, I got your favorite flavor, Molly," Liesa announced, placing an ice cream in front of her.
Molly hesitated, then took it.
Liesa turned to me. "I had no idea what you'd like, so you get vanilla. Deal with it."
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
What a bitch.