this part dedicated to sieyyyy !!
salamat sa pagbabasa ♡'･ᴗ･'♡

note: thanks for reading everyone !! also i love this song sm (attached above!) i'm so glad i discovered it when i was looking for a song perfect for this story. it matches so much omg. i hope u guys can listen to it after reading :))

also pls leave comments !! i'd love to hear from yaaalllll (づ￣ ³￣)づ

vi
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Frankie once said that I am the nicest person she'd ever met.

It was one night when she slept over at our house, we were side by side, under the blankets, breathings slow and relaxed, feeling each other's body heat. We were both seventeen.

I was surprised at how she's so relaxed while sleeping while I couldn't even lay still because she was beside me. It was dark under my blankets but I tried to see how her face looked like when asleep. I couldn't, so ever so carefully I brought my finger and used it to trace her face. Her forehead, her nose bridge, her cheeks, her chin, her lips. I was holding my breath -- I was astounded by her beautiful face.

I didn't care whether she'd wake up, I wanted to feel her. I wanted to bring my finger lower -- perhaps down her neck. But before I could do that, her hand touched my finger.

I softly gasped and my heart did a little thump.

"Rowan."

A pause. Silence. The crickets, the heat of her hand--

"You're the nicest person I've ever met," she said. I couldn't breathe -- her voice gave me chills and her breath smelled like mint and something else I can't explain. "I love you, Rowan."

It was dark. Frankie pulled down the blankets that covered us and when she did I was able to see her face, lit up by my orange lamp light, and although not clearly, I saw how her face was flushed red. She blinked. Frankie smiled.

"I hope we become friends forever."

I hope we become friends forever.

I shifted my weight to my other leg.

Frankie still hadn't spoken a single thing.

When we stood together in front of the train tracks, it was so quiet; only the sound of the lifeless night and the wind were present. Nobody else was there; the town is small anyway so the train stations are rarely crowded. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to tell her about my plan, about all the possibilities that lie ahead of us if she just let me lead the way. There is future for the both of us and hers can only become bright if she's with me.

Only 54 seconds were left before the train comes.

54 seconds before she dies.

But what she said next froze me to where I was standing. 53 seconds. I didn't know that 53 seconds later she would be dead.

Only 53 seconds.

"You were the one who spread those rumors about me, right?"

Frankie slowly walked in front of me, her back facing the train tracks.

The dry air. The trace of blood on Frankie's nose. The scent of dirt from the ground we buried her mother with.

"You ruined my life."

I was frozen.

"W-What?"

"Because you like me," she said.

48 seconds.

"You are in love with me, Rowan. You think I don't know?" She smiled. "One time, when I slept over . . . you kissed me, didn't you?"

"W-What are you on, Frankie?"

"I left school not because of the bullies." She blinked. No expression on her eyes. My heart rapidly pounded. "I left the school so I had a reason not to see you anymore . . . only for you to come again with a kitchen knife with an intent to stab my mother to death," she said, and at that point it all came back to me -- Frankie's smiles, her soft skin, her vanilla scented hair. They were slowly fading away.

"F-Frankie--"

She was lying; I wasn't in love with her. How was she so sure? How was she so sure?

Maybe I wanted her all for myself; maybe I wanted her happiness coming from me and not from anyone else. But that doesn't mean I was in love with her. Right? We were best friends after all.

"But even so, maybe I should just take responsibility," Frankie said. She looked down. "Rowan, you ruined my life . . . but . . . that's the point. You ruined my life, and now it's never gonna be the same again--"

"You're wrong--"

"I'll take responsibility of killing my mother so you can live your life, because Rowan, I'm done for." Her voice broke then. 30 seconds. There were tears forming on her eyes. "Rowan, I'm pregnant, I have no family, I can have myself imprisoned and probably kill myself there -- and you--"

"Frankie--"

25 seconds, and I was starting to panic. What about my plan? What about us? What about the life I planned ahead of us? My hands and voice began to shake.

"I want you to live with happiness--"

"W-We can still take the train, Frankie. Please, it's not too late--"

I reached for her hands but she slapped them away. "The police are coming. They already know. I called them."

"What?"

Suddenly I heard footsteps after footsteps from afar, and when I looked back at Frankie with my wide eyes she was laughing but she was crying and it was a mess when her shaking hand went up to my cheeks to wipe something I didn't know was there.

"Rowan, why are you crying?"

10 seconds.

I had to decide.

I didn't want her to live only to suffer because of something that I started in the first place. I was willing to take her burdens off her shoulder.

"Frankie," I said her name, a whisper, only for her to hear. "I'll take it from here."

Her eyes widened in confusion, and her eyes burrowed. "W-What do you--"

5 seconds.

"No one else will know."

When I touched her chest, she knew, and she smiled and softly touched my cheek. Frankie looked so beautiful when I pushed her onto the tracks as the train arrived.

A soft gasp escaped her mouth.

"Only between us . . ."

I smiled and nodded.

And before she fell onto the tracks, I was sure I saw tears on her eyes, but also a faint smile on her lips, and I breathed because suddenly I was slowly seeing her fall, her life ending right before my tearful eyes, and I cried -- for the first time -- when my best friend whom I've loved for years said, "thank you, Rowan."

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Three months ago, my best friend Frankie killed herself by jumping onto the train tracks one early morning of April, the day after their house burned down to ashes and her mother went missing. That's what everybody else knows.

Even if I was involved with all of these, I wasn't charged of anything.

Maybe I should blame everything on my Mom, who is a lawyer, who had connections, because she made it play like Frankie did it all -- that she killed herself out of guilt when she murdered her own mother. Things were working on my favor when the CCTVs that time weren't also working.

Two months later, Seth returned to town with a new girlfriend. I think I don't feel guilty at all that I murdered him at his house when he was alone, although when he said that I was a psychopath it hurt. It was the last thing that came out of his mouth when I strangled him with a rope. It wasn't a fun thing hanging his head on the ceiling to make it seem like he killed himself, but at least now I'm glad he's dead. Frankie and Seth called me a psychopath, but I don't think they're right; I just did what I was supposed to.

I often visit the train station ever since Frankie died. Sit there and ride the train with no intention of going anywhere at all. Sometimes I just like pretending that Frankie came with me that morning, that we left the town together, that we were able to start anew again. I still hate the fact that she's now dead.

My kind, beautiful best friend. Sometimes I'd dream of that night, of me murdering her mother, and it scares me for a little bit, but not so much. I think of it sometimes; how easy it was for me that I was able to murder two lives because of my best friend Frankie. Maybe three lives if I count hers.

Right now, my eyes are closed and I thought of that time when I pushed her onto the tracks. The train was coming and in a split second we were both smiling at each other with tears on each other's eyes.

No one else will know.

Only between us.

Only between us.

Frankie once said she hopes we would become best friends forever and I think I should grant that.

Three months ago, my best friend Frankie killed herself by jumping onto the train tracks one early morning of April, the day before their house burned down to ashes and her mother went missing. That's what everybody else knows, except Frankie and I, who knows what truly happened.

Only Frankie knows I murdered her and her Mom. Only Seth knows I murdered him, and it would stay that way forever -- I mean, they're dead. Dead people like Frankie are good at keeping secrets.

And these secrets will die together with me.

It's 3 AM, I'm at the train station.

Only ten seconds before the train comes.

I stepped over the yellow line.

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