What if I told you that I've fallen?

And I like the way you say my name?

My heart skips a beat when I hear you calling

And I like that it won't go away

"Winter." I hear her voice calling my name, but it detours past my ears, and instead, it goes straight right through my stomach. I feel my blood rushing all over my body. My heart races by her mere voice alone—her deep, confident, butter-like voice. 

My breathing gets heavy as I feel her stares boring deeply onto mine. I feel nauseous yet excited at the same time. 

We've known each other for a long, long time. I've heard her call my name a million times, but she doesn't fail to make me feel things I've never felt before and I'm loving every moment of it. I love how she's the only one who makes me feel these kinds of things. 

I just catch myself smiling like a fool; I automatically smile when I hear her call my voice. 

"Yes?" It sounds strained and squeaky, so I have to clear my throat. "Uhm, you need something?" I finally say.

She's moving out from her parents' home. Her parents bought her a condo unit right after we graduated college which she gladly accepted hence, here we are. She asked for my help in moving her things. I immediately said yes in a heartbeat. How could I not?

Thankfully, her condo's just near mine, just a 15-minute drive away. Unlike when we were in college, I had to travel miles just to pick her up or drop her off at her parents' home. 

"Can you help me pick these up? Those are kinda heavy na, eh." She points at three, medium-sized boxes. I nod and immediately head to the boxes and stack them up. It is 5 inches taller than me when I lift them up. 

I can't see what's ahead of me, so I have to look and walk sideways. I groan. The things I do for you, Rina. 

She holds the elevator doors and I drop the boxes in the elevator with a huff. I hear the woman beside me giggle.

"Heavy, 'no?" 

"If only may ambag ka lang." I roll my eyes at her in faux-annoyance. She laughs this time and points at her slinged arm. She cockily shrugs her shoulders. I roll my eyes again.

Even without those slinged arms, I'd never, ever let her lift a single finger.

My thoughts vanish when the elevator dings. Same routine: I groan, lift these heavy boxes that are 5 inches taller than me, walk and look sideways, drop them off with a huff.

I am about to dust off the dust in my hand to my pants when Karina swiftly holds my wrist. "Wash your hands. Dumihin pants mo." I glance down my white pants and I smile internally.

I, once again, feel something in my stomach. 

I enjoy how these little things of Karina make me smile. How she takes care of me as much as how I take care of her. I always feel a connection between us that I hope she feels too. 

Things just start getting complicated when you start to fall in love with your best friend. 

Now, it makes me wonder what she thinks of me. I wonder if she feels the same thing too. I wonder if her heart beats faster than normal too. And I wonder if we think about each other with the same depth, same feeling, and same meaning. 

But, I'll never know what she thinks of me unless I tell her. What if I tell her that I've fallen?

But never mind, don't wanna give you any trouble

Never mind, never mind

I'm OK with being by your side for as long as I can hide

What if I told you that I've fallen?

"Winter." There she goes again. There goes my butterflies again. There goes my heartbeat again. There goes my blood rush again.

"Get ka lang ng want mo." She says then continues to talk to the boy beside her.

But this time, I hate it. I hate what I'm feeling. I hate what I'm experiencing. I hate how my body's weak for her. 

How can I love it when what my stomach's fluttering for, what my heart beats for, what my blood rushes for, is acting all lovey with someone not me. Someone who I will never be because I know Karina will never look at me like that—like she's in love.

We're in a restaurant right now. Karina is meeting with her classmates in highschool and she's currently catching up with Jeno, the boy he used to tell me about.

 The boy he used to have a crush with. And I don't know if I should be using past tense right now with the way she's looking at him. Like her stomach's fluttering, like her heart's beating twice than normal, like her blood rushes throughout her body—like her body's weak for him. 

They're sitting closely with no space left behind while waiting for our food. They're chatting—maybe catching up—like they're alone. I sit in front of them as if God intentionally let me sit here so I can feel how heartbreaking this is and how my feelings for her aren't supposed to be loved and enjoyed. 

I'm sitting beside Karina's classmate, having her own world, talking to the people beside her. Not even once did she glance at me and I suddenly feel left out. I'm sitting here in the corner, in front of Karina and  I don't know anyone beside her. These are her classmates, not mine. I don't even know why I tagged along. 

Well, maybe because I thought Karina would introduce me to the world she once belonged in. To the people that were once important to her. So why would I not tag along when I'd be meeting these special people? 

I sip at my water and just observe everyone. Praying that the food will arriv