Late afternoon. You're still sullen in your room. He appeared at the door with a wet dog face. Literally with a bag in his hands.

You are sitting in bed, arms crossed, your heart divided between fair anger and accumulated affection. He enters slowly, as if stepping on eggs.

"Before you throw the pillow, I just wanted to say that I'm a complete idiot," he starts, with that look from the bottom up, the kind that disassembles you.

You don't answer. But don't throw the pillow either. He takes a deep breath.

"Like... not an ordinary idiot. A premium idiot, limited edition. The worst type. The type who talks shit without thinking and then hates himself for hours."

He raises the bag.

"I tried to write a letter, but it looked like a threat. So... I brought this."

You look, suspicious.

Inside the bag: a large package of orange candy, a box juice with a crumpled note written "sorry for being a trash, but am I a recyclable trash?" And a ridiculous keychain with the phrase "I'm your fool, but I'm yours".

You try not to smile. But your lips tremble.

"You're ridiculous."

"Yes. But I'm yours. Ridiculous with a soft heart. Who gets anxious when you stop answering, who goes over every word a thousand times thinking he lost you... and who, yes, remembers that his favorite candy is the orange one even if it tastes like cough syrup."

You look at him.

And he collapses.

"I didn't want to hurt you. I said it that way because I was scared. Because you... you matter too much. Like, much more than I know how to handle sometimes. So what do I do? I send a stupid joke, or I turn my back, thinking it's easier than saying 'I'm afraid you'll leave me'."

You get up slowly, going to him.

Take the package of candies, take one out and put it in your mouth.

"I'll only accept this because they're orange. And because you're really a lovely trash today."

He smiles, relieved, his eyes shining.

"Do you mean I can... be your official fool again?"

You throw your arms around his neck.

"You never stopped being."

He squeezes against you, his face hidden in your neck, whispering:

"I'll never forget: orange candy heals a broken heart."