For You

ch 1: we die

1 hour ago:

"Soo, it's the summer before college, and I have something to confess." I'm sweating buckets, my hands tightly clenched around my white sundress, and I try my best to focus on the sunset in front of us. The wind brushes tendrils of my long black hair in front of my face, and it carries with it the scent of the ocean—salty with a twang of harshness. Even without looking at the boy on my left, I can already picture his face. Tousled hair that looks as if he's just crawled out of bed, brown puppy-dog eyes, and a sharp jawline. The face of someone who's captured the hearts of every girl at Endever High, including mine unfortunately. I wonder if we'll still be friends after this.

From the corner of my eye, I notice him make that signature half-smile of his. The left side of it is pursed, the right side tilted upwards, and I can never tell if he's happy or sad. Which basically sums up Cai anyways. "Rat, is this something big? Do I need to worry?"

Even now, he still calls me that name—one he christened after the summer of eighth grade, when his growth spurt made him 6'2" and all of a sudden much taller than me. "Don't call me that, I'm five foot five point five." I scrunch my nose and then whisper, "Anyways, it's not you who should be worrying." There's a broken sand dollar next to my feet, and it's never looked more interesting. Anything to procrastinate my next few words.

Cai chuckles and rests an arm around my shoulder. "So Yena, if I don't need to worry, what is it?"

We first met in third grade. Both of us had just transferred to the local elementary school, and some way or the other, the kids in my class found out my parents were divorced. When I went to school the next day, beaming and ready to learn multiplication or whatever bullshit third graders learn, my so-called friends sat me down on a plastic chair and said, "Sorry Yena. My mommy said we can't hang out with you anymore." I remember gulping audibly and asking them why, with clenched fists and a rapidly beating heart. "Well, mommy said no one wants you—even your own mom!" And before those girls could see my rapid breakdown, I dashed out of the classroom and into a bush that we used to play house in. Only, now I knew it was all fake. All of it.

Cai was the one who found me, thirty minutes later. He was the one who stared at me until I calmed down, handed me a box of tissues, and helped plan out my revenge. He was the one who took me in. And for seven years now, I've loved him.

Except, I can't just tell him that. How do I even breach this invisible barrier between the two of us—potentially ruin our friendship, toss it into the trash like how I crumpled up that test I scored an F on until it was nothing but a compact 2-cm ball, and burn the past seven years away? How do I tell you that every time someone confesses to you with a blush on her face and trembling hands, I'm infinitely relived when you reject her with a kind word? How do I tell you I'm scared I'll be that girl now?

Even so, this is my last chance—we're going to different colleges and I might not ever see him again, so I muster up my courage and finally blurt my dirty secret out. "I like you."

Shit, shit, shit. There's a pregnant pause between us. Cai tilts his head to the side, removes his muscular arm from me, and stares at the sea. Soft lavender and pink from the sunset kissing the ocean's waves are reflected on his face, and he's put up another one of his half-smiles again. I clench my hand tighter, waiting for something, anything. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he turns to face me. "How much?"

"What?" Aren't answers to confessions usually supposed to be responded with a 'yes', 'fuck no', or 'sorry it's not you it's me', according to all the Netflix shows and kdramas I've watched?

Cai's half-smile is still there. "How far would you go for me?" He speaks slowly and distinctly, as if to make sure I'll never forget his words. "Hmm?" Cai has always been the type of person to hide his true emotions behind a mask, joking one minute and then serious the next, but the expression he has on now is something I've never seen before. It's a clear sign to me—tread carefully, but at least it's not a no.

So, I look straight into his eyes—clear, brown, and holding a chasm in them, and answer, "As far as you want." His half-smile gradually becomes a smirk, and I quickly change my answer. "I mean, you know just exactly how much I'd hate running, and I'd run a marathon for you." Cai lets out a laugh. The light pink triangles on his face, created by the ocean's reflections of the sunset, are now a crimson red and orange. He doesn't say anything. God, maybe he wants something cliche. "I'd cross a desert for you, drown in this ocean for you, I-I'd turn back time for you."

As if my words have struck something in him, for a second the expression on his face shifts to something much darker. Sinister, even. As if he's a snake encircling its next prey, ready to sink its fangs into soft flesh. But as soon as it appears, it's replaced with a smile. "Turn back time?" He laughs again. Louder this time. "Okay." He's laughing so hard he's holding his annoyingly chiseled body, and I'm getting pissed.

"Cai, stop acting like a lunatic. What's your answer?"

He's still laughing, and by now my stomach's dropped. This has to be the worst day of my life—I wish I'd never said anything, because now the cat's out of the bag I've ruined our friendship and clearly Cai thinks I'm a dumbass and I've just willingly lit a fire to seven years of my life and it'll never be the same again. Even though I'm trying my best to fight them back, angry tears are slowly punching their way out, and Cai finally stops laughing. "Shit, Yena, I didn't mean—"

Before he can answer my question, or even do anything, three bullets ram themselves into his flesh. They leave behind a trail of flowers of blood and ever growing vines of red. Caius is still staring at me with that smile printed on his face. He chokes rapidly, collapses, and then—

The boy I love is dead.

What just happened?  Wow, this is genuinely the worst day of my life, probably worse than when those kids kicked my ass in third grade and holy crap something just hit me is that blood—

Everything blacks out.