“I’m going to your house right this minute”, your text says, and all I can do is sigh. There’s a part of me that wants to say “No. Don’t come”, but a bigger part of me has missed you. And I guess that part wins because all I can text back is “Okay”.

I look around at my dishevelled place, from the piles of unlaundered clothes to the mess of papers on the floor, and I will my body that’s already comfortably lying down on my bed to stand up. You hate it when your surroundings are dirty. I don’t know why I still take it into consideration though.

I tidy my place in a frenzy, doing the best I can in the short time I have. I’ve only just hidden the messes on the floor in my closet when a knock comes.

I slowly make my way to my door and see you with a grin on your handsome face.

“Hey Ri. I bought us some pizza”, you say as you come in through my door.  Food was always our bonding, our excuse. I guess that never changed.

I automatically smile at you even if my heart is pumping really fast and my anxiety level rises up. The part of me that calls for self-preservation wants to shove you through the door and shut the door in your face. The stupid part of me yearns to observe your every movement and dissect the words that come out of your mouth.

I just stare at your back as you make my way to my kitchen. You pull out my utensils and plates and knives and you’re basically treating my place as if it were your own. Well, it was once yours too. When we were still together. A million lives ago.

You beckon me to come closer, and my body responds automatically. There’s just something about you that makes me forget all the whys and the no-s that I can think of whenever we’re apart. Your mere presence just wipes every memory clean, leaving only my feelings behind, feelings that I fight with on a daily basis, feelings that I wish were already long dead and gone.

You smile impishly at me as you a pizza into my hand. “Eat up”, you say as I mutely nod my head. As I chew the pizza you’ve given me, an awkward silence prevails. It has always been like this. Each and every single time we’re alone from the time we’ve broken up. But because of the frequency, I guess it’s not as awkward anymore.

I try not to glance at you, my heart still warring with my mind. My rational side is telling me to stop doing this and kick you out. I already know why you’re here. I already know what’s going to happen  tonight and what I’ll feel tomorrow.

All my thoughts fly out the window when I feel your hands on my lips. “You still eat like a kid Maknae-ah”, you say as you wipe the sauce that’s apparently smeared there. I want to protest but ended up having to swallow my words as I watch you put your dirtied fingers onto your own mouth and on them as you gaze lustfully at me. That was the signal and we were going to start our game again.

My brain feels like it skipped. I can barely notice what we were doing, I was too focused on the sensation of your body on mine. I don’t have any idea how we were able to move from the kitchen into my bedroom, or how I’m now. I have no idea when you’ve started ing into me or when you’ve started pleasuring me. All I know is that my body feels complete cause you’re here right now and you’re with me, and I need to savor each and every moment. The pleasure builds and I let go, and a moment later you do too.

You collapse on top of me, and I dread the silence that’s sure to ensue. I try to breathe evenly as I try to memorize your scent and the feel of your body on mine. But you roll off me too soon for my liking, and the part I hate the most follows.

You put your arms around me and put my head on your chest. You then start to kiss my hair as you hold me tighter and tighter until every inch of me is pressed to you. And I want to say to you: “Can’t you see how perfectly I fit with you? Can’t you stay with me not just tonight?”. But I don’t.

You break the silence however, and I was shocked at what you said. “Do you love me?” you ask in your normal tone. I couldn’t see your face but I could feel the warmth of your skin.

I shake my head, careful to not talk lest my voice betrays me. And I can feel your breathing hitch then normalize. Maybe I just imagined that. I pepper your chest with kisses of my own, wanting to mark you, but knowing that I can’t.

When my voice is already steady, I elaborate: “Loving you would be detrimental to both of us. We’ll go back to our old ways and fight and cheat on each other again. I don’t want that cycle. I just want us to be friends”.

You laugh and laugh and laugh, and I force a smile too. You ruffle my hair like I’m your pet and you’re amused at everything I say.

I muster up the courage to repeat the question to you: “What about you, do you still love me?” I try to ask as normally as I possibly can, trying to keep the anticipation from my voice.

You’re overtaken by giggles again and say: “Of course not. Don’t assume things Maknae-ah”.

Your answer hurts me but I try to brush it off. I can cry tomorrow, but I’ll never show weakness in front of you again.

“It’s okay. At least we know there’s no chance of us getting back together” I say, trying to keep the hurt from my voice.

“As if there was a chance in the first place”, you say, as you poke my stomach trying to tickle me.

“There were moments –“ I try to say but you cut me off.

“There were none”, you say in a voice that almost sounds pleading.

“Okay. There were none”, I say, focusing on holding back my tears.

“This, whatever we are. Let’s keep this at this. Don’t fall in love with me Maknae-ah”, you grumble as you bury your head on my hair.

“Of course I won’t you pabo. One relationship with you was enough”, I say as I draw you closer to me too.

And I sleep, basking in your warmth beside me.

I’m awoken by your movement as you struggle to get out of my embrace. So I pretend to push you off in my sleep. Letting you go in the morning was so much harder each and everytime we did this. I hear you turn the shower on, and I guess the rhythmic sound of falling water lulled me again into sleep because the next thing I knew you were shaking me awake.

“I’m going now”, you say, and all I can do is nod my head.

“Should I call a taxi for you?”, I say with all the politeness I can muster. My heart is heavy again and I want to cry. We’re reduced to this again in the morning light. Almost strangers, too polite to shoo the other away forcefully like we seemingly want to.

“Yes please”, you say as you smile, but I could see the nervousness and awkwardness behind it. I wonder why you still pretend that we’re okay, when I know that you know that I know you so well.

The taxi agrees and we wait until it comes inside my apartment complex. The silence continues with both of us trying not to look at the other.

When we hear the distant rumbling of a car, you turn to me and say: “Thank you for last night Ri”, you say it with a sincerity that I almost believe in. But then, I doubt everything you say now.

“It was my pleasure. Have fun with her. Text me when you’re already with her so I won’t worry that you got lost or kidnapped”, I attempted a joke as your taxi creeps to where we are.

You enter the taxi and I just stare at you, and you wave at me as you pull away.

With the car leaving, I could feel the tears forming. I rush back to my apartment before anyone sees me and when I reach my place, the tears start to fall.

I cry for you and I cry for me. I cry for what and how happy we were and what we could have been if we both weren’t such secretive and prideful people. We were together once upon a time, but our pride wouldn’t let us back down from whatever foolish arguments we had. The need to be right outweighed the need to continue our relationship. Pride made us see other people behind each other’s backs and pride made us do it all over again. Until our friends intervened and told us to break up. We were too unhealthy for each other, they said, and we both knew they were right. So we broke up. And pretended to go our different ways.

But I don’t know if it’s love or lust or pent-up feelings but nights like the one yesterday still occur at least once in 4 months. You come to my apartment in the dead of the night and we make love the way we used to when we were together. And during that night, I could try to forget the fact that you’re not really mine now; that you belong to another. But then, we’re both sick in the head and we both try to remind each other of the reality we live in. We constantly hurt each other as often as we can, with the goal of coming out as the winner in the end.

As the tears dry up, I try to remember every sensation I felt last night, tucking them away in a corner of my heart, only accessed when no one’s there with me. Nobody can know I still love and cherish you, most of all not you.

I text you, trying to keep it light and friendly and teasing: “I’m sore all over. How are you holding up? ;)”

I stare at my phone for hours now, still not getting a reply. Of course you won’t reply, you’re probably with her. And as much as it hurts me, I know I have no right to demand even the least bit of attention from you.

I delete your number again, which is pointless as it’s etched up in my mind. But if it helps to make it harder for me to contact you and avoid showing vulnerability I’ll do it, if it means not losing, I'll do everything I can. Even if in reality, you’ve actually won over a million times already in this sick game we play.

When I open my social media accounts, I see you with her, and the tears fall again. I want to unfollow you, to stop myself from admitting to the reality that you’re with her now, but I can’t because people will pick up on it and our fans would know that we’re not okay as we project our relationship to be. And I pride myself on my image-crafting ability. That’s what I’m best at. And you’re good at it too. At the end of the day, we’re both very good liars.

The next day I avoid all social media platforms and focus on the things I have to do. Work has always been a great distraction and it will always will. But even I have to admit that thoughts of you still unwittingly pass through my head, but distance from you and the fact that we communicate only when we have to does do their magic. It gets better as time passes by. Less thoughts of you and less regrets about letting you go. 

In time, I get better too... At least, until I receive that dreaded text again. “I’m coming to your place tonight”. The games begin anew.