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The silence holds you. As if tomorrow is no longer there. Because you did something wrong. You're sure you wouldn't do that if you're better at this.
It's my fault. Why do I keep repeating the same mistakes?
Hatred is a strong word until you put them on yourself.
I could do better. I should do better.
You keep repeating them like an unbound mantra. Convincing yourself that if you do it over and over it will eventually be real.
But it always turns out to be like this.
Mistakes by mistakes.
Failure by failure.
The expectations you never met.
You hate it more than anything.
It's even bothersome because no one was asking for it. No one but you.
Why? Why am I being like this?
The cold tile floors are kissing every inch of your skin. The window has been left closed, stopping the city noise crept onto the room.
Which is unfortunate. Because the noise was one thing that made you feel alive.
You keep yourself within the darkness. Once your enemy, now your ally.
It's exhausting.
I'm tired.
I'm so tired.
A ticking clock is starting to touch your earlobe.
It hurts.
"I want to disappear."
"Will everything vanish when I leave this world behind?"
A single tear rushes into your cheek, falling to the floor. Cold, too real to be ignored.
I want to die.
You hug your knees, hoping to drift away your consciousness. Nails digging through your skin way too hard, it stings. A glimpse of thoughts that it's actually a knife cutting through your skin, taking the life you don't want to have. Hoping the death will offer you a hand to escape this reality.
Quiet.
Until you hear something. A faint knock on your closed door.
Weird.
No one will come to you at midnight like this. You're making sure you're hearing it right. It's there, again. Still faint, but exist.
"Hey."
A soft familiar voice. A voice too familiar to your ears.
A voice you only hear through the phone.
It can't be possible.
Impossible.
You cringe to yourself.
"I must be insane." A whisper barely audible.
But somehow, the same voice makes a sound again. As though it answers you. Louder this time.
"I know you're there. I know you hear me."
Both of your teary eyes widened. There's no way it is him.
You can't believe it, but your heart betrayed your brain. Because it's the voice that always comforts you while you have a bad day. The voice you fall asleep into when the void prevents you from sleeping.
It's the voice.
You raise your head slightly from the floor.
"Ge?"
A faint call. Half believing, half hoping.
Hoping that it's real.
But seconds passed and no reply.
Right before the cold touched you again, the door creaked open.
The corridor light floods straight to the room. Someone is standing there, still holding the doorknob. The figure is way beyond your imagination. The way the dim light of the corridor flares to his white sweater. The way it touched his face.
It is him.
Shocked, you raise your upper body. Not as a defense, but a disbelief. Another tear drops to the back of your supporting hand.
He's walking towards you, slowly, as if one wrong step might scare you. And once he's close to you, he bends down, raising one hand to caress your cheek. Sweeping the tears away.
You can feel the warmth of his palm. An unfamiliar palm from a very known person. He tucked a smile. A comforting smile. A smile you only see from the person who's mad at themselves for not being able to help the person they care the most earlier. It only makes your tears fall more.
While you let out a silent cry, he pulls your arms and embraces your body to his chest.
"It's fine. I'm here."
He rests his cheek on your head, combing your hair gently. Like he's holding something fragile. Like he never wants to let go. He whispered things you always thought as a sweet nothing. But somehow, in his voice, it sounds like something is right.
"You've done what you could. If things aren't going the way you want it to be, it's not your fault."
Your hand is holding onto his sweater. Your brain resists the words because for so many reasons you are always sure you’re the problem.
But the way he brushes your head and the way his arms embrace you, making you lower your guard down. The weight on your shoulders gradually lightens. It goes along with the coldness of your hands which is held by his other hand.
“Nothing in this world is guaranteed. The way you're feeling guilty about it is telling you that you’re capable of it.”
When you’re no longer sobbing, he softly pulls away, only to carry you to bed and put your head on the pillow.
He stays.
Something no one else does.
He lays beside you so he can tuck your body in his arms.
He’s humming a melody. Something you’ve heard before. It lightens your head as it blocks away the noises inside it.
When your body is actually relaxed, he breaks a distance and closes it again to touch his temple to yours.
“I know it’s hard. I know you want to do better. But if you’re being hard on yourself, you will struggle to prove it.”
“You’ve done enough lately. For now, just stay with me.”
He reaches to both of your hands and brushes his thumb softly through your knuckles.
“You’re safe tonight.”