Journeys of the Heart

#3 He Promised

Promises are meant to be kept.... right?
Pinky promises. Swearing to god. Spit handshakes. The numerous ways to show your commitment in keeping a secret or sealing a deal with the devil. When we were kids, breaking a promise was the worst crime you could commit. It jeopardized your entire friendship; their trust for you or your trust for them would never be the same, so you had to keep the secret as if it depended on your whole life. When we grow up, pinky promises become childish. "I promise" becomes empty spoken words. If it was meant to be a secret, we just tell the person to not tell anyone else. No "You promise?" "I promise." Just "Don't tell anyone." "Okay." And sometimes, promises aren't spoken, but they are made by the heart. These unspoken promises are the most dangerous. It could be one-sided, where only one person is left thinking "Maybe, it was all in my head." Was it? Maybe. Maybe not.

We sat directly across from each other. Sounds of babies crying, plates clanking, and people talking can we heard all around us. But between the two of us, there was dead silence. No one dared to be the first person to speak, afraid that, whatever will come out of our mouths, would be the last thing we ever say to each other. The heavy air hung on our shoulders, threatening to crush us if we didn't do something. And to be honest, I hoped this was all a dream. That sooner or later, I would wake up from this nightmare and everything will be back where it's supposed to be. He would meet me at my locker and we would walk to the bus stop together. Some days, my friends, his friends, him and I would meet up at the front of the school and we'd all go to the nearest coffee shop, just to hang out. Those were the happy times. The times that I wish would never end. My heart raced. But not in a good way. It was coming. Right. Now.

"I'm leaving."
A tear slipped down my cheek.

"W-When?"
My voice cracked. I didn't know how long I could keep this up.

"At the end of this month."
That was in a week. He didn't mean it. Did he?

"When were you planning on telling me this?"
His eyes were focused on the cup of coffee in front of him. His expression unreadable.

"Later."
I didn't understand. What had he meant by 'later'? When he left? Right before he left? When was 'later'?

"How long have you known?"
It took him longer this time to think of an answer.

"Since last year."
By this time, my hands holding my green tea latte wrapped around the cup tighter and tighter. Any longer, the cup might get crushed. And I haven't even touched it yet.

"Are you planning on ever coming back?"
He's hesitating. He knows how I'm going to react once he tells me the truth.

"Not for a long time."
I stopped breathing for just a moment. I knew what he meant. He wasn't coming back. Ever.

But. He promised.

I gasped for air as I sprung up from my bed, sweat sliding down the sides of my face. That dream. That single memory. It replayed itself every night. Over and over. Even though it had already been 2 years since he left, that memory was fresh in my mind as if it only happened yesterday. The feeling I got when he got up and walked away. The feeling I got when I was left alone wondering what had happened. The feeling I got when he didn't say anything further. Not even a 'goodbye'. And he never looked back. Not even a glance.

He promised. He promised.

He promised that he would never leave me. That he would stay until the end of high school with me. That we would make the best memories together. That we would be friends til the end. Did that promise mean nothing to him?

I swung my legs over the side of my bed. My feet touched the icy cold floor; the cold traveled from my feet up my spine, causing me to shiver. I didn't bother to turn on the lights. Grabbing my iPhone, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness and walked towards my bedroom balcony. 

2.30 A.M

The numbers on the screen mocked me. Insomnia had haunted me since I was 8 years old. Every night I would wake up in cold sweat, and I can never remember the reason why. It got better when I met him. He made me feel more alive. But now, I'm back to where I started. I stared up into the still-night sky, stars still visible. At that moment, a shooting star shot through the darkness. I'm not sure what I wished for. Not sure what I was thinking when I saw that shooting star. But seconds later, a miracle happened.

New Facebook Message: Hi

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To any readers that read this far: This probably isn't my best piece of writing, mainly because I lost the feeling for writing this piece, and also because I've been having a pretty shitty week. Especially today, I'm not in the best of my moods but I decided to just finish this piece to get it over with. I probably wouldn't know what else to write anyways, so I apologize for the poor quality. Hopefully, my next chapter would turn out  better when I'm feeling better. 

Thank you for reading this to the end.