"Looks like you and Thalia are hitting it off," Rey, Miguel's father, casually remarks, interrupting Miguel's intense focus on recording his gameplay. Startled, his fingers slip, but he manages to guide his character skillfully, dodging an incoming attack.

It takes three minutes for Miguel to successfully conclude the virtual battle before he hits the pause button and turns to face Rey. "She's our staff member," he explains.

"Of course. Just nice to see you two getting along," Rey replies flatly. Sheila, his mom, steps in, giving Rey a gentle smack on the arm. "I told you not to say anything."

"Why not?"

"Who's spreading the rumor? Joshua?" Miguel hisses, suspecting that he might be the source of the comment, considering he's noticed him observing whenever he and Thalia engage in conversation.

But it's not like there's anything special going on... It's all small talk: the weather, the sales, the customers.

Interrupting the speculation, Sheila enters his bedroom, observing the packed boxes and suitcases, signs of their son's impending move. His once-cramped room, filled with video game collectibles and sneakers, now looks deserted.

Miguel senses the sadness in his mother's eyes and rises from his chair. "I'll make sure to swing by often, Mom," he promises, giving her a reassuring hug to ease her worries.

He can be a decent kid when he wants to be.

"Okay," she mutters, then asks, "But seriously, what's going on with you and Thalia?"

Miguel instinctively pulls back, clearing his throat to mask a growing blush. "Seriously, Mom, there's nothing going on," he hastily responds, slipping into a loose-fit hoodie. "I give her a ride because it's on my way."

His mom raises an eyebrow, not buying the casual explanation. "You don't do that for just anyone, though."

Miguel defends himself, "She's part of our staff."

Rey chimes in with a skeptical, "Whatever you say..."

Miguel lets out a defeated moan. He realizes there's no escaping this interrogation. "Moving on... I'll drop off the new mop heads and vacuum at the shop. I need to pick up some things from the dollar store anyway."

The couple shares a swift glance, engaged in a telepathic exchange that their son instantly deciphers.

"That's not it. I'm not..." Miguel slumps back into his seat again, pouting. "Know what? I won't do it. I changed my mind."

******

Thalia diligently completes the closing tasks, sweeping and disposing of garbage, as the front door unlocks.

"Hey," she greets Miguel, absently scratching her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Yo," he responds, carrying the fresh cleaning supplies into the utility closet. His parents had convinced him to go—not that he needed persuasion. He's more than willing to run errands for them...

"You're alone?"

"Baljit just took off," Thalia explains. "Had to rush to pick up her kid from daycare."

Glancing at her, Miguel notices the evident fatigue in her appearance—the bags under her eyes, the redness in her tired gaze. "Rough day?"

"It got a little busy," Thalia confesses, emptying the dustpan into the garbage bin, which Miguel has promptly opened for her. "But we got through it... That's all that matters. We'll always get through it." The last few lines are nearly inaudible, a personal mantra meant for Thalia herself.

"I see... Are you okay?" Miguel inquires, observing as she removes her gloves and heads to the washroom to clean her hands. He follows her, noting, "You look exhausted."

"Just didn't get enough sleep last night," she admits, not entirely being truthful. Her night was marred by a call from her mother, Leonora, venting about Aly's behavior. Her younger sister has been pushing boundaries lately, staying out too late. When Thalia spoke to Aly, it turned into a barrage of complaints about their mother. That she was being overly strict and unreasonable. It was a relentless back-and-forth, leaving Thalia as a frustrated messenger, shedding a few tears in the process.

"You can go. I'll handle closing the store," she says, emerging from the washroom. Miguel follows her back to the shop floor.

"Wait, I've got something to ask," he says.

"What is it?"

"Um, do you want to come out on the 31st?"

Thalia grabs her puffer jacket and toque from the locker. "New Year's Eve? Not really."

"Why not?"

"It's kind of dull. I'd rather catch up on sleep," Thalia replies. "The whole celebration vibe just isn't the same. It's too quiet here... Back in my hometown, the streets would be filled with people, belting out karaoke tunes, indulging in endless food and drinks. Probably because it's not as freezing there. But here... It's just boring." She abruptly covers her mouth with a hand. "Oops. That's how you sound when you criticize what I've grown accustomed to. My bad."

"I don't care about that," Miguel grumbles, "But that's why we're hitting up the fireworks show at the legislature."

The two make their way out of the store, locking up meticulously in light of recent break-in reports. They can't afford to take any chances.

"Why are you asking me? Don't you have any other friends?"

"I do," he replies, a half-truth. All his local friends have departed the city, leaving him with only virtual companions. Considerations of moving to busier cities like Toronto or Vancouver have crossed his mind, but the exorbitant cost of living is a major roadblock.

Edmonton often gets slapped with the nickname 'Deadmonton,' thanks to stores closing up shop early and a nightlife scene that's more on the limited side. But since he's not exactly a social butterfly, sticking around just makes financial sense.

Still, he can't deny the urge to escape that exists within— a desire to break free from responsibilities and hit the reset button. In the back of his mind, a faint voice murmurs, "You're stuck. You have no dreams, and no place to go."

"Miguel?" Thalia's voice breaks through, jolting him awake from his contemplative trance.

"I... I just think you should experience it."

"Right. Because this might be my last New Year here," Thalia remarks casually as they walk together to the parking lot. Miguel, once again, guides her towards his car, instinctively diverting her from heading to the bus stop.

Miguel cocks an eyebrow. "That's not what I mean."

"I'm kidding. I must be so pitiful that the boss drops off food at my doorstep, asks me to hang out, and then..." She settles into Miguel's car. "...gives me a ride home."

"I don't pity you. Again, that's not my intention," he murmurs, his teeth gritted, navigating onto the main road. "You always misinterpret me."

Thalia fiddles with her fingers. "I'm only messing with you. You're funny. Are you really older than me? And I misinterpret you? Why? How should I interpret this now if not pity?"

The last line triggers an internal panic in Miguel. "Can't we just be friends?"

"I don't understand. I sort of dissed your whole character. Aren't you supposed to fire back?" Thalia quips, wincing as she recalls an unpleasant memory. "Besides, my first and only boyfriend had this close friend who turned out to be his side chick. So, girls and boys claiming they're just friends are a little suspicious to me."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's all good," she dismisses. "He's the most irrelevant thing in my past anyway. I've got too much going on to dwell on it."

"Okay. Fair. Then, what do you want me to say? That I'm hitting on you?"

"Eew," Thalia groans, shaking her head frantically. "Definitely not."

"Eew?!"

She bursts into laughter. "Sorry, that came out wrong. You're cool, but I've got a certain type."

Miguel deadpans, masking a hidden grimace. "And what is that?"

She taps a finger on her bottom lip, as though pondering intensely.

Miguel is easy on the eyes, no doubt. Always well-dressed, regardless of the weather. She won't catch him in puffer jackets or anything too sporty for outerwear. Even with a hoodie, he pairs it with a stylish coat and a sleek pair of sneakers, or leather boots when he's going for a dapper look.

Standing taller than the average crowd, his arms and shoulders bear the marks of some serious heavy lifting on the job. His brown, smooth skin gives off this mix of rugged yet refined aura– like he can handle a woman with tenderness one moment and go all-out wild the next.

The random thought makes Thalia giggle. She mutters quickly, "It's hard to describe. I like cute dudes."

"You're into cheating cute dudes?"

"Not the cheating part!" she asserts. "But it's not you."

Miguel forces an awkward smile, baring his teeth. "Well, there goes my self-esteem."

"Oh, come on! It's not like I'm your type!" she exclaims, breaking into laughter. "I guess we can really be friends in that sense..."

Miguel exhales a quiet sigh of relief as they pull up to Thalia's apartment, glad for a breather because he's got no solid comeback for that last bit.

She wasn't his type. Until that night when he learned the bits and pieces of her life, he never paid much attention to her. He'd assumed she was a bit timid, maybe lacking in personality. But actually looking at Thalia and having a proper chat, he finds her super intriguing—smart, quick-witted, and just plain honest.

It's not pity. It's something else. Something a little more that compels him to make her smile.

"The 31st..." he starts as she gets ready to step out. "You sure you don't want to come?"

Thalia's shoulders drop in relaxation. "Fine. I'll go out. You better make sure it's worth it."

******

"What did you tell your parents?" Thalia inquires, the two of them positioned in the heart of Winston Churchill Square, adjacent to the legislature, precisely at 11:45 PM. Miguel navigated through downtown's labyrinth of streets, circling numerous times in pursuit of parking, amidst a sea of fellow locals eagerly anticipating the upcoming fireworks display.

The air is filled with random music emanating from colossal speakers flanking the venue, creating an auditory backdrop for the diverse groups staking their claims on optimal viewing spots – families, friends, and couples alike.

"Nothing," he says, seeking warmth in the pockets of his jacket. "I'm 27."

A lie. Miguel conjured up a tale about meeting non-existent friends from university, assuring his parents that he would return shortly after midnight for a belated media noche celebration.

"It's a little chilly," Thalia mumbles.

Miguel gently adjusts Thalia's scarf to shield her nose from the chilly winter air. "You've got to do it like this. Your nose is red. Like Rudolph."

"Oh," Thalia responds, her gaze shifting to the sky, a sudden wave of shyness washing over her. "Thanks."

"How's your family back in the Philippines?" Miguel questions, leading Thalia to dismiss the odd sensation.

"They're... Alright. My sister and my mother, you see, they don't get along. It used to be better when Papa was alive, and I was still there. But leaving the two of them together..." She sighs, licking her lips to combat the dryness in the winter air. "Why am I even telling you this?"

"Because I sort of already know you?"

Rolling her eyes, Thalia chuckles, "All by accident. I was really scared. I also felt like you didn't like me from the get-go. Looking back, maybe that's where it all began." She shifts her weight from one foot to another as her feet begin to feel cold. "Do you remember my first day at work?"

Miguel responds with a faint shake of his head.

"Ma'am Sheila introduced me to you, but you didn't acknowledge me. The next day, when I said hello, you didn't respond either." She watches Miguel, waiting for a flicker of recognition.

He tilts his head. "I don't remember any of this."

"The last week of September."

Ah, the last week of September, when he discovered that his ex-girlfriend of five years had moved on with a new man. Although they had been separated for six months, witnessing her embrace a new relationship still inflicted a painful sting.

Lowering his head in embarrassment, he acknowledges his role in Thalia's initial negative impression against him. "I was going through a tough time... Sorry. I didn't mean that."

"I'm all ears."

Miguel manages a smile. "I'm way past it."

A burst of colors paint the skyline, captivating everyone's attention momentarily. Thalia, like the others, gazes upward, savoring the lights and crackles of the fireworks. Yet, amid the spectacle, her heart churns in chaos, filled with nostalgia and yearning.

She misses her family. She should be with them during this time of the year. However, she can't afford to buy a ticket home, not to mention the risk of not being able to return to Canada.

And it sucks that she barely has any money left to spare for her own needs. That she's set aside everything that she has for her sister and mother because no one else will. It sucks that she has to play the role of a mediator, a carrier of the emotional weight.

Everything is taking a toll on her, financially and emotionally, and she's in desperate need of some breathing room.

Miguel looks at Thalia, expecting a different reaction. Instead, he sees tears streaming down her cheeks, each drop reflecting the vibrant lights above, a stark contrast to the true feelings behind them. Something inside Miguel breaks, urging him to close the distance and wrap her in his arms. Thalia's cries intensify.

"You're doing really well, Thalia. Hang in there," he murmurs against her hair. "It'll get better. This year... It will be better."

******

A/N: Gotta admit, I relate to Thalia more than any other FMC I've written before. I've copy-pasted a chunk of my life & experiences (& personality), so hope you don't hate her as much lmao.

Alright, folks, stay tuned! Lots of chapters to roll in!