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“Shit…”
You watch her stagger backwards, words faltering. You can’t decipher the meaning—the emotion behind the look on her face.
Is it confusion? Anger? Pain?
You don’t want to know.
Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you both continue to stare wordlessly at each other with both feet grounded and stances defensive. The air is suffocating and it’s getting harder to keep your breaths level.
You pushed her away, and you can’t really blame yourself either, can you?
She kissed you.
Leaned closer until you felt the ghost of her lips on yours. You kissed her back because feelings can be shit—overwhelming—but you wished you didn’t. You actually feel fucking sick and you don’t know if it’s from the way she suddenly kissed you after you have just finally admitted that you have loved her for years or if it’s because you couldn’t stop yourself from giving in too.
But how could you stop, when in that moment, it felt real?
Like she’s finally yours?
But still, you grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away. You feel your stomach turning. Fuck, you might as well throw up at this point.
You want to ask her.
Why?
Silence.
Why did you kiss me vulnerable?
Why kiss me when you don’t feel the same way?
A beat. The only sound resonating across the room is the muffled music from the party downstairs.
Come on, Mikha, say it.
Say you hate her for making you feel like this. Say you want her gone.
Spit it out.
Bakit hindi nalang ako?
Say it. Fucking say it already.
Can’t you see me?
Words crawling—begging to be let out—but your throat feels like it’s constricting and is being pricked by burning thorns. Your mouth opens, but nothing is said. Not one sound comes out.
“Mikha…”
The clear desperation in Aiah’s voice is enough to make your heart shatter even more.
“Please just say anything.” She takes a step forward, her hand reaching out to you, but you take two steps back.
You didn’t even notice you were already crying until you unconsciously wiped the hot streams of tears on your cheeks. You feel stupid. Pathetic. But this was bound to happen. You knew there would be a chance things would come to this and so you’ve rehearsed yourself—you were supposed to know what to say by now, know what to act—what to feel.
“Mikhs, please. Don’t push me away.”
But of course your mind betrays you.
You don’t say anything. You don’t move.
You wish it didn’t have to be like this.
Mikha Lim. Always with the wishful thinking.
“I’m sorry.”
Always with the risk-taking.
“Don’t be.”
You manage to whisper, sliding down with your back against the wall. Funny enough, it compels Aiah down to the floor with you. You feel her gaze boring a hole into the side of your face.
It must be pity.
You know it’s nothing more than pity when you finally look into her eyes.
“Hindi mo naman kasalanan.” A hoarse chuckle spills from your throat. “Hindi mo kasalanan ‘di mo ‘ko gusto.”
She stays quiet, but you see it. You finally see right through her.
You know it’s breaking her too.
“I love you.” Your eyes close. You don’t want to see how she reacts.
“I’m so, so sorry, Mikha.”
A stab right through the chest. Nevertheless, you tune her out—ignore her because it still hurts. Everything about her hurts.
“I love you, Aiah.” You gather the courage to say it once more but it comes out almost breathless. It makes you want to laugh. It's amusing really. The alcohol earlier really got to you.
Despite that, you hear nothing from her anymore. You could still feel her presence beside you, but she doesn’t budge. Doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t say anything.
She feels like smoke.
Vague.
Ambiguous.
Your heart breaks upon realization.
Oh, Mikha Lim.
Always the gambler. Always the fool.