Pop 26

Leo scrolled aimlessly through his phone, the screen’s light blurring in his vision. He was dead drunk.

His nursing uniform reeked faintly of beer, a dark stain splashed across

the front — collateral from another clumsy bottle.

He sat slouched in the corner of the same convenience store

where he and Ashton once shared a cup of noodles.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flickering softly like they were exhausted too.

“You look like a mess.”

Leo turned. Tristan slid into the seat beside him, setting down a steaming cup of instant noodles.

“Here,” he said gently. “At least get some food in you.”

He took the empty beer bottle from Leo’s hand and tossed it into the trash.

Two customers passed by the automatic doors, their chatter momentarily breaking the silence.

Leo exhaled, shaking his head. “Tell me something, Tristan… how is it possible for someone older to just—transform?

To look young again?” He waved a dismissive hand.

“No, don’t tell me. What I really want to know is if I’ve been played.”

His voice cracked. “He thinks I’m mean to him, but I’m not.

I’m just—hurt. He lied to me. He thought I wouldn’t love him for who he really is. Do you think

I’m a shallow guy who’s just fixed on what’s outside but never what’s

really going on—-inside?”

Tristan reached out and took Leo’s trembling hand.

“I don’t think you’re shallow at all Leo. You can look beyond what’s on the skin”

Leo’s eyes widened as he watched Tristan’s skin change

beneath his touch—smooth youth fading into weathered wrinkles.

“Tristan…?” Leo whispered.

When he looked up, the man beside him wasn’t the young model he knew.

This was not the same Tristan whom the Dean asked him for help so he can pass his clinicals,

nor the same guy who flirted with him after his photo shoot.

He’s different. And yet….it was still him.

It was an older version of him—tired eyes, gray streaks, and the same gentle smile.

“I think I can explain how Ashton changed his appearance,”

Tristan said quietly. “He took the same pill I’ve been taking. It’s experimental—came from Nurse Pam’s boyfriend.

I’m sure he got the pills from Olive. You see, he works for Big Pharma, probably, no he has to. I think, he’s some kind of… pill scientist.”

Tristan’s voice softened. “He made this drug that can turn you into your younger self for a while.

I don’t know how it works, but it does. I’ve been taking it too, behind Olive’s back. I’m one of his first

actual test subjects. And now that I’m almost out, I guess it’s time you see the real me.”

Leo sat frozen, his lips parted in disbelief.

“But… you’re a model,” he stammered. “A very fit, perfect, young model. I—I don’t understand.”

Tristan chuckled weakly. “That ‘perfect’ model wasn’t able to love you right, was he or is it the other way around?

Ashton meant well, Leo. He’s just tired of seeing an old man in the mirror.

He wanted to feel good again, to show you there’s more to him than age.”

Tears spilled down Leo’s cheeks. “But I love him—for who he is. He doesn’t have to be young

to impress me. Love doesn’t work like that.”

He looked at Tristan’s face again, searching through the wrinkles, the years, the truth.

“I still see you,” Leo said softly. “The man who shines on every runway. The one who can win any heart.

He’s still there. I see him. He’s my….almost”

Tristan’s eyes glistened. “Your almost? Now, that makes me feel better.”

He pulled Leo into his arms, and for a moment, both of them just cried.

“You’re still young, Leo,” Tristan murmured. “When you’re my age—when you’re Ashton’s age—you’ll understand.

Who knows, you’ll chug the entire pill bottle for love” They both laughed.

Leo wiped his tears. Then Tristan blinked in confusion as a familiar voice broke the quiet.

“Well, this just got awkward.”

Olive slid onto the bench beside them, holding two bottles of beer. Leo’s head spun slightly—apparently,

he’d been drinking with her all along.

“Olive?” Tristan said, startled.

She nodded. “Relax. You don’t have to explain. I don’t want to hear why you lied or how.

We’re not together anymore, so that part doesn’t count.” She took a sip.

“But what I do want to know is—are you paying for these beers? Because if you are, then we’re good.”

Tristan laughed, a sound cracked but warm. He pulled Olive into an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For deceiving you. I just wanted to feel young again—to model,

to live a little. But when I was with you… the feelings were real. Always were.”

Tears welled in Olive’s eyes. “I know, Tristan,” she said softly. “I know.”