US

i. Us. . .

2 of 3

The sofa pressed hard on your limbs, it's supposedly soft surface felt uninviting to your tired muscles. It has been more than a month or two, but it still stings everywhere. You buried your nose deeper to the pillow you have covered with the shirt Amber has left under your bed. It's the last of the few things that has been left of her.

Blinking lights from the muted television moved the shadows in your peripheral vision. You stole a glance. Amber was on focus, the nervousness made her eyebrows wiggle funny. It looked so familiar and it annoyed you because you're suddenly possessive again, possessive of her and her adorable quirks.

Her arms were around someone else, and her eyes can barely stay focused but she looked hopeful. You know that look all too well, from the slight ripples on her face, to the glint in her eyes. Oddly you can see it, despite the thousand lights around her, the brightness, and the way her pupils were. It was scary and you hated it, like how it annoyed you to see it on public broadcast because that look was supposedly only for you to see. You sincerely hate it that you’ve memorize them, the look in face the glint in her eyes and that those arms that were supposedly your home.

It used too.

You sighed resigned as you watch her face fall into a barely concealed sadness, as they call for her name as the second best. It made the stinging in the middle of your lungs nastier. Your breathing shortens, as you imagined adding another one on the stack of her frustrations.

It made you wonder if she's even sleeping at all, and it didn't help in the pain and the breathing irregularity. Your face was back on the pillow in an instant, and you groaned loudly in frustration, willing yourself to calm down and stop being ridiculous. At least the remnants of Amber was handy at the moment. The ghost of her scent kept you sane for days no matter how unorthodox or how very unlikely of you the methodology was, but suddenly still you needed music, the best company you could ever ask.

It’s Amber’s runner up of course, but you're running out of Ambers these days. It but that's how it probably will be. You have accepted begrudgingly that no matter how scenic or majestic that places you went to, stayed at, even with the company of your sister or the music or your mom or friends and cousins, it still felt empty. It still stings, but music helps or so you thought it did.

With swift tapping and swiping your head was filled with more words that were thankfully not Amber anymore. The Moon Song, took up the small openings on the cramped space that was consumed by Amber as Karen O's soothing hum made you feel like ocean waves were hitting your sore muscles. It felt like the ocean was trying to take you in and you just let it be, feeling as lost as you have been since the day you move out and ended it. At least you were feeling anything other than the feeling that for the two of you it was over.

You hated that fact so much that it made you want to claw your stupid heart out of your chest because it won't stop hurting and your neurons seemed to be enjoying it. It's over and you miss Amber became a mantra that you wanted so badly to end in your head. It's physically taxing too as if it's not enough that your internal organs were tag teaming on making your vacation miserable.

It has been miserable from the start and you were a mess, overthinking possibilities. Not knowing where in the abyss the two of you stands. Even the fact that you were the one who ended it and you had the last words that made everything fall apart didn't feel as good as it did when it happened.

It left you feeling like you've lost a part of your soul, the greater portion, the piece that kept you anchored in the ugly-ness of the life you have to live to achieve your dreams.

The Moon song started another loop and you shifted in the sofa. Your toes were dangling at the edge as you lied on your stomach with your eyes close. Deep breaths escaped through your nose one after another, the other half thought was back as soon as the pause in between the song on repeat. Elin.

You didn't even know Amber was friends with that girl until Amber posted that picture. It's a tedious task to keep up with the long lists of friends that Amber has anyway, but the gut feeling that something will fall apart was there as soon as you see it. The self-deprecating laugh you let go rang in the dim room as you mock yourself for being like a teenage girl stalking her crush's instagram account but it died almost as soon as it started as you remembered how Amber even edited the caption because her hanggul still .

Maybe it would have been better if Amber just let her ty hangul be because it hurt you more than you will admit. You secretly wished that she will change it or put any indication that she's kidding or that she didn't mean those words because she probably wasn't kidding, not when she posted that anyway and it felt like you were on an action movie with glass around you shattering on sharp little shards that cuts you everywhere in slow motion.

If you we're younger by three hours when you saw it you would have reacted drastically and unattractively but you didn't because you've grown old with Amber and you've grown up with her being like that to almost everyone, so with your stomach falling lower every second you waited for any explanation, or an apology perhaps. The two of you were unofficially in love with each other anyway and you held on to that thought but nothing came.

No explanation, or apology or anything and the roller coaster drop started dragging you to the bottom. It was still dragging you to the end that never comes with your heart on your throat and cuts in your soul and it was almost too much because Amber allowed you fall down on your own with false accusations and tiredness in her eyes.

Suddenly Amber was tired of you, of your whining, of the things that used to make her perk up or laugh till there were her tears in her eyes. She wouldn't even look at you anymore as her tears fall as rapidly as yours did and remembering it made you cry.

No matter how absurd it was for you that you we're crying while listening to the masterpiece of Karen O and Ezra Koenig you're tears were slipping in your closed eyelids again. You have refrained from crying these days because it only bothers people who cares for you but it's tiring to fake it every day with Amber’s ridiculous a little too late explanations and unfamiliar lies, and there were the memories, taunting you again and again and again accompanied by the silent phone calls.

It was a mess and Amber didn't act like she loves treating you like a princess anymore. It was petty and childish and stupid but it made the tears fall harder and made your lips quiver uncontrollably. You we're choking so you let go of the sob you were holding on to as Karen O hums to you softly.

Another one escaped and you have to force open your eyes because it felt like the warmth in your eyelids was forcing it open. Your hands cupped your mouth to stop the pathetic sobs that made your chest heave hard.

You were suffocating of the thoughts and the music can't do anything about it. Not the moon song, not the melody or the tempo or the husky tone of Ezra. Not even the scent that was now mixed with the salty so you gave in.

You were imagining her standing there calling you princess. Telling you to stop crying or at least come near her so she can embrace you until it stops stinging, but she wasn't there because she's smiling at the public broadcast celebrating with one of her many friends. Your shoulder shook, she won't be there anymore.