See you, Laurent.

iv

Regrets were the only thing I had after that blissful and idyllic day in March 2020.

After school, we watched an ornamented and dynamic street dance with a swarming quantity of tourists and onlookers from different parts of the country and maybe across the globe.

You never wanted to watch, but I insisted, and you gave in to my tantrum.

Cebu was fuming with much joviality that day. I was able to forget all my worries and bags of responsibilities. We were so happy. We watched the lantern parades until the incandescent moon substituted the flaring sun, and the stars dotted the pitch-black sky.

I have watched you intently, enjoying your youthful day, your be-dimpled smile never leaving your bright face from five to eleven of the evening.

I have felt you more carefully, your solid and ironclad arms never leaving my waist and shoulders because you were too scared that I could get swayed by the crowd's strong push and pull.

I have understood you better than I did all these years, your sense of urgency to be around me all the time, your soothing presence that calms me every time I take flight. I understood you better that night–your smiles, your hugs, our warmth. 

"I'm fine," I chuckled, but you just frowned, getting irritated by the people who seemed to bump against me accidentally.

"Just hold on to my arm, Astrid."

I will never forget that day. You were so protective of me as if I was a fragile and brittle vase that would break at any second.

But none of us expected what happened afterward. We were planning to enter the battle of college life but were too flabbergasted to move into a lot firmer and more brutal scuffle.

Because a few days later, our tests returned, and we turned out positive for the deadly and hostile monster the whole world had been fighting.

I was so sorry, Laurent. It was all my fault.

-----