Nothing 

There was a steep silence that overcame the bathroom. The only sounds that could be heard were the echoes of the remaining droplets that escaped from the showerhead and slammed onto the floor, even after she had cut off the water; together with the sound of me still trying to catch my breath. 
“Can you please answer me… please?” I pleaded, as I continued to stand in front of her shower stall, observing her unchanging silhouette -- her shadow right behind the curtain.  She stood still, shocked maybe? Shocked at my sudden appearance? Maybe this was the best way: to catch her off guard, to pop the question in the heat of a moment – maybe then I’d get honesty… maybe then I’d get something. 
“Well…?” I said impatiently as my pulse raced, but I had already caught my breath.  It was racing just like on that day when she asked for ‘space’… but it was worse. Way worse. It was racing out of desperation. It was racing out of panic. My chest felt constricted, tight – too tight… and I felt way sick to my stomach.  
I suddenly heard her sighing deeply, as if she was getting ready to give me the most horrible news and had no idea how to say it. Her sigh sent my upper teeth straight down onto my bottom lip, pressing down onto it harshly. My hands hung tensely at my sides, as my fingers fidgeted with each other – my thumbs rapidly pressing against each knuckle. 

“Amber… it’s not… normal…” she finally spoke. It was an answer that was straight to the point, as if she could clearly hear all of my arguments in my one question simply by the tone of my speech – as if she could hear all of my pain in my one question, simply by the crack in my voice. It was an answer that was nearly under her breath, because she knew I didn’t want to hear it – or maybe she didn’t want to hear it either? 

"Clarity" - Zedd ft. Foxes

“Krystal, you said in your diary ‘no matter how normal it feels... it's not normal, right?’ That’s what you do, right? What you do is write about how you feel, and you wrote that it felt normal.  So, don't focus on what you think is normal, focus on feelings.  So, right now, how does it feel? Normal, right? Does it still feel normal?” I tilted my head, only slightly, just to lend one of my ears towards the curtain, waiting for the reaction I needed… 
“We are not normal, Amber.” She specified. 
“Okay, look… I get it. I get it, you want a normal love. You want simple. You want cookie-cutter… but what’s normal, really? Like… define it for me! Is normal whatever is common? Why can’t normal be whatever you want it to be, whatever is normal for you, and no one else?” 
“That’s the thing, it’s not normal for me!” she sighed in frustration, but there was an apparent but slight crack in her voice as she responded.  I could see her silhouette finally move, as she pressed her back against the shower wall, and slowly allowed herself to slide down. 
“Really? It isn’t?” I scoffed loudly; frustrated with the reactions she kept giving me – her answers, her objections – I was in disbelief.  I followed her silhouette, as I also lowered myself against the wall and sat side by side her, with but only the curtain to separate us both from each other.  I could see her hand that was pressed against the wet shower floor, peaking right underneath the curtain. I brought my knees up against my chest, as I slowly lowered my chin onto them.  I could feel my frustration gradually trying to escape from my eyes in liquid form.  I could feel myself about to break. 
“If it isn’t… if it really isn’t normal…”  my voice was shaking  “… then why the hell do you keep coming back to me…?" 
“…”

I don't care if I lose everything I have and everything that I am... as long as I can feel love...I've never felt love.

“You said you never felt love. Well, I’m loving you right now… don’t you feel it!?” I asked her harshly, but almost in a whisper, as I was trying hard to fight back my liquid frustrations.  I slowly lowered one of my hands towards the wet shower floor. “You say you're not like Soyeon... but you are being like her. You are killing yourself...” my hand slid under the shower curtain, reaching hers that was pressed against the floor -- touching her hand with mine ever so slightly.  “… you're killing who you are…  and you're feeling alone and leaving me completely out of it. You told me you wouldn't allow yourself to feel it alone, that we would feel it together... Krystal...” I finished, as her hand slightly flinched at my touch.  She slid it away from mine slowly…  “Like, fine... don't be with me… but don't do it out of not being who you are... I can't see you day in and day out, knowing that we both want this...”
“Fine... I don't want to be with you, because I don't love you... will that help?” she said through her teeth. 
“Don't talk like that...”
“Amber, just let it go...!” she blurted it out in a frustrated tone, as her hand vanished from underneath the curtain… her silhouette showing her arms wrapping tightly around her knees that were also pressed against her chest, just like me… 

She’s so far gone… and my knees were so moist. 
Teardrops falling -- rolling down all the way to my chin.

That steep silence again.

“Remember…” my voice miraculously left my lips, air still going in and out of my lungs… barely – I couldn’t believe I was still existing. I felt like a ghost… dying without being able to die  “… when you told me once… that we would be forever, because even when circumstances change, we ourselves wouldn’t be allowed to change if we are who we truly are? You were right… The only reason we’re falling apart right now – it’s not because the circumstances changed -- it’s because, it seems, you weren’t who you truly said you were… this isn’t the Krystal I’ve come to know. This isn’t you.  It can’t be.  You’ve changed.  Or… or at least I’d like to believe that you’ve changed. I wouldn’t want to believe that this is actually the real Krystal, and the one I knew was never you…” The steep… deep… deafening silence returned. She said nothing. I got nothing. I stood up and wiped my tears, as I made my way out the bathroom door.

I composed myself as I hastily walked down the hallway on my way back to my dorm, not wanting anyone to notice that I had just cried. I don’t want to feel this… this pain – this anger. If how she says she's feeling really is how she genuinely feels, I would let it go. I really would… but I know in the core of my gawd damn soul that it isn’t true! This is what hurts the most; this is what pisses me off…! That I know she doesn't really feel the way she says. How this was caused? By her sister? By her very self? I don’t really care anymore… I just care t