“Funny” I mumbled, clicking my glass with the bottle of liquor in front of me. The sound of it must have caught the bartender’s attention since he lifted his gaze up from the glass of Martini that he was preparing and shot a concern glance at me instead.

 

 

 

 

 

“What is?” he asked from where he was standing.

 

 

 

 

 

“Just ... everything,” I replied, a smirk adorning my face. I saw him shrugging his shoulder off before he tore his gaze away from me and served the Martini to the lady sitting a few seat away from me.

 

 

 

 

 

Funny, the way that her every word would have its effect on me. It would either send me high up in the sky or left me shattered on the cold hard ground. She was expressive, indeed. She left nothing unsaid, and I’m still trying to figure out whether or not it was a good thing.

 

 

 

 

She would come to me at the oddest hour of the day and muttered ‘I love you’s very randomly. I got to admit, that those traits of her never failed to bring the butterflies in my stomach alive. But it was her next words that would kill me almost instantly – “you’re so perfect that I never wanna lose a best friend like you”. It almost, no, it definitely sounded like a declaration that I should follow through, or maybe a boundary that I should never cross over.

 

 

 

 

 

Funny too, the way that she made me feel whole, only to crash and shatter in the next second. I have always had doubts and fears against myself. But every single of it vanished into thin air when I saw the way that she would cast her gaze on me. She would look at me like I’m an expensive piece of art, full of admiration ; or her best piece of jewellery, full of adoration. Yet when our eyes met, it hurt me like nothing else could, because it was not my reflection that I saw. It was hers, sadly.

 

 

 

 

 

But what funny the most was her constant nagging, telling me to stop drinking, to stop getting drunk. Yet she was the very reason why I found myself spending my time in this bar alone, with a half-filled glass in my right hand and a soon-to-be empty bottle of liquor in my other. And I had this feeling – it was like I’m drunk, yet sober at the same time. My head was more than hazy, yet I could still see the image of you every time I had my eyes closed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was like I’m the toy and she was the master. Everything, even every limb of me depended on her. I danced to her rhythm she created and cried to the pain she inflicted. My heart is no longer mine, she had it inside her palm, yet she never even realized it.

 

 

 

 

 

“Pathetically, funny,” I hissed before I emptied my glass in one shot.

 

 

 

 

 

Should I take a step back and just let you go? But how can I, when you're not even mine to start with.

 

 

 

 

 

Should I just stop and give you up? But how can I, when I’ve never even fought for you.

 

 

 

 

I have always been that stupid coward who just sat around, waiting for you to come and getting scared of a thousand ‘what if’s.

 

 

 

 

 

Now, I’ve came to a point where I’ve got nothing else to say, aside from ‘I’m too late’. But I’ve got no one to blame. It was all me and my cowardice. It was my entire fault.

 

 

 

 

 

Will things be different I’ve ever stopped being a coward and fought for you instead? Will things be if I just for once, stopped thinking and getting scared of them, ‘what if’s and confessed my feelings for you?

 

 

 

 

 

I wanted to cry, to wail to yell. But instead, a hollow laugh slipped past my lips. I poured myself another glass of the remaining liquor that I’ve bought earlier that night and set the empty bottle aside before I placed the rim of the glass in between my parted lips, tipped it slightly upward and chugged it down my throat.

 

 

 

 

 

Wiping my lips with the back of my hand, I was about to grab another bottle of the same type of liquor when I heard a familiar voice calling for my name, sending all my action into a halt.

 

 

 

 

 

“Byul-ah,” she called. Her voice was unusually soft, with clear tints of worries. So I forced out a smile and turn to her direction.

 

 

 

 

 

“I was about to start another round. Care to join me?” I offered. Her lips instantly turned upside down, forming a frown as her brows knitted tightly together.

 

 

 

 

 

“Stop it, Byul-ah,” she started carefully, “stop getting drunk and stop getting hurt because of her. She’s getting married, and so are you,”

 

 

 

 

 

I chuckled, sarcastically. Ignoring her, I took the bottle of liquor and pour the content into my glass.

 

 

 

 

 

“Outsiders thought of us as friends, while our families thought of us as fiancées, but have you ever asked what my thought of us are?” I paused, giving a few moments for the words to sink in before I continued, “you’re thus woman that have been constantly shoved down my throat and no matter how much, or how hard I tried to spit you out … you always stay,”

 

 

 

 

 

The flickers of pain in her eyes, made me feel contented. Happy even, for I’m not the only one hurting tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re drunk, Byul-ah. You’re going to regret everything that you’ve just said when you wake up. Especially when you wake up on my bed, ,” she retorted. Gone was the flicker of pain, replaced by a sense of pride. I smirked.

 

 

 

 

 

“If I woke up on your bed , will you too?” I teased. It was then her turns to smirk as she snatched the glass out of my hold and chugged it down .

 

 

 

 

 

“You bet I will,” she said, her free hand trailing higher and higher along my thigh as her lips curved into a teasing smirk. I stopped her hand from trailing up higher before I muttered, “ maybe next time,”

 

 

 

 

 

“Or maybe never,” and she retreated her hand back to her side.

 

 

 

 

 

It was then silent between us. My mind getting more and more hazy with each passing second, yet I still didn’t stop chugging the liquor down my throat. I wanted to stay drunk.

 

 

 

 

 

“Let’s go home, Byul-ah,” she said, which I nodded to before I hopped off the high stool.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yup, let’s go and meet her, my sun,” I announced happily, swaying slightly. The alcohol in my system was making it real hard for me to just stand up straight. However, despite my drunkenness, I could still hear her frustrated sigh as she circled her arm around my waist.

 

 

 

 

 

“I mean your place, Byul-ah. Your condo, your home,”

 

 

 

 

 

“But home is where your heart lies,” I slurred. And that was my last word before I out.