Game Plan (COMPLETE)

26

"Arrie, I want to apologize," I said quickly, cutting her off before I could lose my nerve. "But can we not talk about it now? I'm tired."

I'm really, really tired.

I just want to lean my head on her shoulder. I just want to hold her hand again.

I just want to act like... like we're still fine. I just want her by my side. She's the only thing that I haven't messed up yet... I can't afford to lose this too.

I can't afford to lose Arrie too.

"No. If we keep postponing this, kailan pa natin pag-uusapan?" She answered, her voice was firm, almost sharp.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

I couldn't look at her... I didn't want her to see the mess brewing inside me.

Seconds dragged before I gave up. "Okay. Sure. Go ahead."

I was scared... so scared of what she would say. Scared that this—whatever fragile thing we had—was already slipping from our hands.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her lower her gaze, a bitter smile playing on her lips.

"Now I'm starting to doubt if you really like me," she said, voice so soft it hurt.

I couldn't believe what I heard. If only she knew how much... how much adoration for her I have in my heart.

"I like you, Arrie. I think I've made that clear."

"Nothing has been clear these past few weeks," she said, her voice cracking despite the control she was fighting to keep. "And if it were clear, the point is... we like each other, Ven. So why are we making this so damn complicated?"

But affection locked inside the heart means nothing if it's never shown.

I closed my eyes briefly, feeling the weight of her words settle on my chest. "This is my first time, Arrie... Please, cut me some slack."

"I know," she whispered. "It's my first time too, Ven."

Her voice—small, breaking—sliced through me worse than any insult could. More than any beating I have received.

I wanted to reach for her.

I wanted to explain everything: the chaos I was going through, the pressure, the fucking exhaustion.

But the words tangled up in my throat... hindi ko pa kayang sabihin.

"I think..." she began, voice trembling, "I think I'm tired of waiting for something that will never happen."

I stared straight ahead. 

If I looked at her now, I might break apart completely. 

I might beg her to stay—and she deserved better than that. She deserves someone who wasn't drowning in complications, someone who could give her the time and appreciation she deserved.

"You apologized, sinabi mong babawi ka," she said. "But you're so fucking inconsistent, Ven. Some days, it feels like I don't even exist. Ganoon ba kapag may gusto ka?"

I had no right to ask her to stay. Not when I kept failing her this way. But there's a part of me that wants to be selfish.

"I wasn't even asking for your whole day, Ven," she said, quieter now, but every word felt like a punch to my gut. "I just hoped you'd keep your word."

I accepted every word... because I deserve this.

What I went through at home is not an excuse to neglect the girl I wanted so badly to treasure, but ended up failing.

"It won't happen again, Arrie," I said finally, hating how weak it sounded. "I promise."

But even as I said it, it didn't feel like enough. It felt like... like I was throwing a tiny matchstick at a fire that was already too big to stop.

"But why am I even acting like this, right?" she said. "We're not even anything."

I finally turned to her, desperate. "Arrie... a little more time, please?"

I reached for her hand.

I cupped her face.

I looked into her eyes, trying to anchor myself to her, to us.

For a split second, I thought she might stay...

But she pulled away.

"I'm just not ready for an official relationship," I blurted, voice rough. "It's hard to make ends meet. I barely have time now that I'm in second year."

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them, because I wasn't just talking about school. I was talking about everything else too.

She stared at me—really stared—and I could see it in her eyes... that she was done understanding me.

"Whatever this is, Ven," she said, steady as a blade, "It's done."

I watched, paralyzed, as she's preparing to step out of my car.

"I don't want you to call me later. I don't want you to message me tomorrow. And you won't come see me—not here, not at my house."

She opened the door.

Cool night air rushed into the car, but it wasn't enough to numb the ache in my chest.

She didn't even slam the door.

She just closed it quietly—like she was closing a chapter. Our chapter.

And I stayed there, hands gripping the steering wheel, heart crumbling quietly, staring at nothing.