EVERYTHING I WANTED

04

COLE had dragged her to the Student Council Center (SCC). It was located on the fifth floor Open Space, two flights above the faculty lounge. Colored blue and pink, the two-story center looked like a tacky and awful portrayal of school spirit.

She should definitely have it repainted.

Once he entered her office, he gestured for her to sit down on the three-seater sofa she kept for guests. Mostly for her cheerers who loved to hang around her office, especially when they cut classes.

"What are we doing — " Her words fell flat when Cole proceeded to lock the office's doors. She scrunched her brows, indignantly saying, "What are you doing?"

She tried to stand up, but she found herself plopping back down at Cole's stern gaze — his green eyes were like poison ivy. She sighed dreamily in her head.

What's happening with her?

Cole cut through her dreaminess and confusion by stating, "We're not leaving your office until you cry your heart out, mon bijou. It's not healthy to suppress your feelings like that."

"But — work — "

"Work? You just got dumped, Crisanta! By Tristan Carlos of all people — and all you can think about is work?" he said bluntly. Softening, he said, "You need to cry, mon bijou. You need to let it out."

"You need to let yourself break."

She felt the tears build up as her mouth trembled uncontrollably. The dam creaked and cracked; billows of water gushed through the small cracks. But she held herself in steadfast strength, fearing judgment, fearing weakness, fearing everything unfamiliar. "I — "

By the heavens, she wanted to cry, to break down, to just let herself shatter into a million pieces. But she did not let one drop fall until —

"You can trust me."

His eyes stared straight at her own, staring into the deepest pits of her soul — so green, a hazelnut color when the light shifts — a stark contrast from the baby blues of her ex.

He breaks the stare. "I can call Miyeon here if you want. Or one of your cheerers — "

She shakes her head vehemently, on the verge of tears. She wouldn't last until her girls come here. She's gonna cry now.

He sat next to her, placing an arm over her shoulders, engulfing her in a side hug with all the gentleness in the world. She buried her face in the curve of his neck and —

She cried.

"Why," it was the only thing she could say when she could feel her heart being ripped out of its cradle in her chest. It was the only thing she could say as someone forced open her ribcage and snatched her heart, uncaring of the lung tissue they damaged, or the way the blood vessels were ripped apart savagely.

All she could think of was why, as she continued to sob.

She was a pathetic mess; snot and tears mixing, but who cares?

Certainly not Tristan. Bitterness soared within her as her mind played back the scene she saw in Lang-Lit. It drowned her, the blues drowned her. She was suffocating in blue blue blue blue.

"Mon bijou."

She felt tissues being dabbed underneath her eyes, as another ply was pushed into her hands. She took the tissue, blew her nose, and cried even more. Hands cradled her in an embrace that made her feel like a precious gem — the most precious one.

"Mon bijou."

For the first time in months, she cried in the company of another. For the first time in two years, she cried in the arms of someone who wasn't Tristan. For the first time in a long, long time, she felt lighter.

She felt awfully sad but also awfully light.

"Cry now, work later, okay?"