God, it's a cringe to even think people would love me.

2012

"I'LL TALK TO YOU SOON, okay?"

"You keep saying that, but you never do," he replies, ending with two crying emojis. "How long are you going to ignore me?"

I hated myself for treating him like this, but I'm going through hell right now, and he's just on the road to it. I think.

"You gave me something hard to process, Alex," I replied, hesitating to type the next sentence. "I've never felt like this before. Hell, I don't even know what I am feeling anymore. I just need some time to get over this. I don't know how long it'll take, but when the time comes, I'll let you know."

He didn't reply, though his status showed he was still online.

The typing icon returns.

"I wish I could simply delete that day," he replies after a while, along with a single tear smiling emoji made from the symbols. "Regardless, what's done is done. Take your time, Jon. I'll be waiting. And I hope you do not take forever. The past few months already felt like centuries."

"Hopefully," I ended the text.

I always thought school life was tough without a friend. It was, but I never knew having friends would make it so complicated. It's never a smooth sailing trip of happiness and excitement. There are bound to be problems, and after years of friendship with Alex, this is our first real problem. Or maybe it's not a problem, to begin with, but just something he wanted to get off his chest.

But why me?

Why does he like me? Nobody likes me. I don't even like myself.

I always knew I loved him as a friend, but I never knew I loved him more than just a friend until he confessed. I remember that day like it was just yesterday. I recalled waking up at night when mom barged into my room, thinking I'd killed myself because I was curled up by the window and didn't answer any of her calls or messages. I remember feeling like shit every time I avoided him when I saw him waiting by my locker.

Only now, I realize it's not him that I couldn't face; it's me. I couldn't look at the Jonathan in his eyes because he was not me. It's the person I'd want to be, but I'm not.

The thunders were aggressive today, and the lightning flashed so frequently that even when my eyes were closed, I could still envision the patterns of it. The trees bend according to the direction of the wind, and the roads are empty, as nobody wants to be around in a storm like this.

School carried on, but I stayed home today, for my emotions have again gotten the better of me. It's been months since he confessed, and I've never strayed longer than a day from him. I miss him so much.

But I can't bring myself to see him. And I don't know why.

I woke up from crying myself to sleep last night after knowing I'd ignored many of his texts and calls. I even pretended not to be home when he approached the house out of the blue. There were over forty-eight messages unread, and I replied to them today because it's killing me that I'm killing him. Though I doubt even after the day ends, it'll be the same tomorrow, and tomorrow, and forever.

All my life, I've never considered myself to be in love. I ignored how it felt when I watched fictional characters falling in love. I do not get butterflies in my stomach when I see gorgeous-looking people or whatever it is people get when they're in love. I didn't allow myself to feel any of those, and yet, the day Alex came into my life, I allowed him to make me feel this thing called love. And he did it in ways that I didn't know I was falling for him.

Perhaps that's how he fell for me too?

God, it's a cringe to even think people would love me.

I drag my body out of bed and slip into something presentable-baggy, gray sweatpants and a plain, black t-shirt-as I need to get some pills for my headache. I guess this is one of the side effects of overthinking. It keeps you awake, and when you try to sleep, the pain strikes like lightning, jolting your eyes open as your hand reaches to rub your temples. And the cycle repeats till dawn. If you're unlucky, forever.

It's been like this since Alex's confession. The pain just gets worse over time, to the point that it's unbearable. I approached the universal cure, which is using an ice pack, but it didn't do shit but dampen my forehead and pillow.

I place my phone in a zip lock bag to protect it from the rain, slide it down my pocket and wallet, and make my way down, one hand on the railing.

"I'll be going out for a bit," I said once I reached down and headed towards the door.

The thunder responds with an aggressive roar, but no one else does. Usually, mom would say, okay, stay safe.

I turned on my heel, noticed the house's silence, and remembered everyone's left for their respective routines. I was the only one who stayed home today. Oh well, with or without these people, the house is always empty to me. It was a home once upon a time. Now it's just a house that I take refuge in.

I unlock the door, and the chaotic outdoors warns me to not take another step. The smoky, almost black clouds fill the sky, and the merciless chilly wind sends vapors my way, to which I quickly get out and shut the door behind me before the floormat gets wet. I grip an umbrella large enough to protect two people over my head and walk down the porch and onto the pathway to the pharmacy.

Not even a minute has passed, and I'm soaking from my waist, darkening my sweatpants. With every step, my foot feels the cold, murky waters. I look around and realize I'm the only one walking through this storm. Not even a single car passes by the roads. Obviously, it's a bad time to head anywhere, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And I am indeed desperate for some sleep.

...

After sixteen minutes of walking in the storm, I stand by the entrance of the pharmacy, but that's the furthest I could go as the place is closed until further notice. Why is it that whenever I urgently need something, it's not there? Perhaps, it's just not my day?

No, I think it's just not my life.

I continued down the path to a hospital, hoping they would sell some headache medicine or whatever. I've never been good at picking medication, Victoria is the doctor of the house, and we're all her patients in times like this.

I stop outside of a seven-eleven to steady myself. Sometimes the world becomes wobbly like a bowl of jelly, and the last thing I need now is to actually be in the hospital. The storm picked up as the showering rain grew intense. The road gets blurry every minute, indicating a flood is coming.

I've always loved the rain; even as I stand underneath it, I still love it. I can picture myself lying on the lawn at my house, feeling the aggressive waters crashing on my skin, inhaling the earthy smell, and taking in the melodies of the thunders. There's something about the weather I'm able to relate to. We're both the type to let our feelings out through tears and at unexpected timing. And when it happens, it could either be a short breakdown session or a long, painful one.

Today, it's the latter for the weather. Now, my head is begging for treatment, and all I can think of is the comfort of my bed. I can practically feel the softness of the bed even as my back is leaning against the cold glass of the seven-eleven store.

I shake off the pain lingering in my head and continue walking, feeling relief that it wasn't as far as I thought because the neon emergency light shines ahead.

As I was prepared to cross the road to the opposite side where the hospital is, the siren of an ambulance emerged from a distance, a nostalgic sound of the day I survived a car crash. It wasn't long before the blinking blue, red lights flashed in the misty atmosphere, rushing to the same destination as I was.

I crossed over in time to see the people gathering at the back of the vehicle, pulling out a gurney where a boy was lying. He's covered in blood, and the injury on the side of his forehead was the culprit. I don't know who he is, but he may be around my age, and I felt so bad for him because I've been there. I know how scared he is, the pain he's feeling, but he couldn't do anything about it.

They rushed in through the automatic doors, and soon, he was out of sight, brought into an ICU room or something.

I pull my umbrella close and hang it on the umbrella rack fixed by the entrance. I was instantly reminded of the freezing temperature I felt while hospitalized. The weather is already cold, and now I'm freezing, believing my lips could turn blue any second. God only knows why the hospital needs to be this cold. I secured my hands under my pits-though it was pointless with my soggy t-shirt-and walked in. The sound from outside simmers down that the squeak from my soaked sandals was the only thing I hear.

...

Thankfully, they sold the medicine I needed, but it was out of stock, and they had to check the inventory to ensure there wasn't any left.

While they do that, I mindlessly stroll through the hallway, where to my side are doors leading to ICU rooms. Most were empty, but I didn't know for sure because my legs halted in front of the third door to my right. I peeked in through the glass gap and noticed nobody was there. The room is dark, but my eyes instantly land on the gurney I once slept on, recalling the day I woke up in this room after the accident. I remember crying because I was scared of being alone here. I could almost see that Jonathan now, and his tears made me want to go in and hold him in my arms, assuring him that I was there for him.

In the end, I was always there for myself.

Perhaps now, Alex too.

I pull back, and the glass reflects my face. I peer down towards my arm that was once broken and move my fingers, reminding myself that I'm healed and that day was just an experience that'll never happen again.

I realize I've been standing here for quite some time, and the nurse at the reception might be waiting for me. I wanted to head back, but instead, I was drawn by the sound of someone sobbing. Two people actually, and slowly their grieve became louder, and someone screamed. I follow the sound of their voice to an ICU room at the end of the hall. The room is crowded with over four nurses, the doctor, and a couple who seem to be the ones grieving.

I glanced over to the body lying on the gurney, and my heart sank when I saw it was the boy who had come in earlier. The long beep echoing from the heart rate monitor was why they were grieving. The couple must be his guardian, and compared to the man, the woman has a harder time accepting the boy's fate.

He's dead. And the fact that I could see him alive before his time came was even more depressing. He didn't make it, but I did. And that was another hard pill to swallow.

"We've witnessed many patients taking their last breath, and yet we could never get used to it," I jump from the voice next to me. It's the nurse from reception. She's smiling at me, but her eyes say otherwise. "It's just sad to be the first to witness such a thing. But no matter how much we try, in the end, it's in the hands of god. When it's time, it's time."

"How old was he?" I was curious.

"Nine," she responds.

"He left too soon."

"That's just the thing about death; it comes unexpectedly. No one is prepared for it," we continue staring at the grieving couple, feeling empathy toward them, especially for the boy.

It's moments like this where I'm reminded of the harsh reality that someday, we're all going to die. And when that day comes, everyone is going to forget you. Some will claim to keep you in their hearts forever, but life goes on, and new people will come, and just like that, their promise is broken.

Here I stand, witnessing the death of a stranger and thinking to myself, what the hell am I doing right now.

A faint scrunch sound rustles in the silence. I turn to see her holding out the pills I request. "Anyways, luckily for you, this is our last batch." She hands it to me. "On the house."

"Are you sure?" I blurt, surprised because medicines are never something people would give out for free.

"Positive," she confirms.

I hold it in my hands, studying the shape and size of the miniature pills lined up accordingly in a plastic bottle. The drugs that'll sustain the human body for a longer time. And just like that, I felt the gratitude for living fluttering in my heart. My life isn't perfect, but I'm alive, and there must be a reason for it. And now I know damn well what the first reason is.

"Come, you're not supposed to be here," she heads back to the waiting hall, and I follow, keeping my eyes on her dreadlocks and feeling jealous that I couldn't pull off such a unique style. "Remember to be responsible with those pills, okay?"

"I will."

"Good," she smiles, her rose-red lips shining brighter now that we're standing under the light. "Go home and get some rest."

"Thanks."

...

I exit through the automatic doors, and the waft of earthy smell returns, along with the chaotic melodies of the thunder and blade-crashing waters. The weather hadn't changed a bit, or maybe it got worse because the tires of nearby parked cars were halfway submerged.

I open the umbrella over my head, recalling once again of the boy who came and gone in less than an hour.

"What the hell am I doing?" I ask myself, though unable to hear my voice because of the weather.

In a mere second, the thunder roared, and just like that, it felt like a wave of happiness had struck me. My adrenaline was pumping, and I couldn't stop smiling. I pulled the umbrella closed, checked my surroundings to ensure no vehicles were heading my way, and leaped out into the rain, running and screaming at the top of my lungs. I let out the anger I've shouldered for days, the sadness I've held, the happiness I've hidden, the love I've been denying, everything.

I continue to run and run, pretending time has stopped for a bit, and the world could catch up on lost time. If only the world was generous enough to give us a second back.

I kept running until I reached the destination I never knew I was heading for. Alex's neighborhood. It's only been a few months since I've been to his neighborhood, let alone his house. I was practically a permanent resident in his home. Now it feels like forever, and I can't wait any longer.

I made it to his house, catching my breath and pushing my dripping wet hair to the back. For a second, I doubted he was home because both his parent's cars weren't in the driveway.

Nevertheless, I reach and hit the doorbell. And I wait. Even with the loud surrounding, I heard footsteps rushing toward the door. His footsteps. He has a unique pattern when he walks, and it's hard to not remember it.

I kept my eyes on the window next to the door because I knew that was the first thing he and his parents would do before opening the door. The pitch-black curtains that hid the house from external sights moved ever so slightly, and he peeked through the gap.

"Jon?!" He mouths, and the door opens. He's standing behind it, surprised and concerned, with his eyebrows raised and widened eyes. "Are you okay? What's happening? Why'd you run here in the rain? Come in-"

As much as I want to hear the voice of the person who convinced me that life isn't all bad, my hands cup his cheeks as I press our lips together. At the same time, hoping he doesn't pull away because it'll just make this moment awkward.

He kisses me back, and I can feel the smile on his lips.

Today, I kissed the boy I didn't know I was in love with. It's my first kiss, and now, my first ever love.