Love Is Symphony |✓

| 20 |

I was standing on my house's porch when it happened.

The day was warm. The sun was up and the air was humid, causing dots of perspiration to appear on my forehead as I looked around for a new place to hide my key in. Unlike most people who chose to hide their keys in the same place all the time, Dad and I decided that it was best to find a new spot for it at least every after two days. Albeit not much of a vital precautionary move, but still a precautionary move.

I couldn't quite understand his fascination with changing spots every two days or so, seeing as the number of times he misplaced the key when it was his turn to keep it, was more than my fingers on both hands. But this fact didn't seem to deter my dad. In fact, he seemed challenged by it; making it his mission to come back with a higher notch of determination every time.

God, sometimes I wish I could be as positive as him.

A small smile took place on my mouth when I spotted a medium-sized square pot beside the round one near the door. Quickly tilting the pot, I shoved the glinting key underneath it and pushed it down. With a couple more of jiggles to ensure that the pot could sit on the key until I come home, I finally let it go and stood up.

But just as I turned, my body froze. Eyes wide and mouth agape upon seeing you standing there in front of me. Both hands shoved deep into your dark jeans' pockets and a hesitant look on your face.

"Sean," I finally breathed out, not knowing what else to say.

You raised your hand in a small wave and smiled. "Hey, headed to work?"

I nodded. Somehow unnerved by the casual tone of your voice as if this was another ordinary day, and this was another ordinary situation. As if your lips didn't touch mine. As if you didn't kiss me. 

There was this painful tug in my heart, a gentle pull that slowly morphs into something stronger, pulling at the muscles until all I could feel was the sting. I couldn't believe that seeing you actually hurt, but would you look at that, Sean—it did.

It had been exactly three weeks since I last saw you and I didn't know where that left me. A few weeks back you were so eager to spend time with me, despite me being adamant not to do so. I thought after that, we could've settled something. A silent and mutual understanding on where we stood despite the complexity of the situation that was made complicated by my stupid feelings. But then, when I finally told myself that maybe things were finally headed the right way—you disappear. Just like last time.

Your absence sent my mind into overdrive. Crazy ideas and pathetic thoughts filtered my head. Maybe you've already forgotten about me. Maybe I was too ugly. Maybe you found me boring. Maybe you eloped with Miranda. A thousand more stupid and pathetic and disgusting and humiliating and angering maybes. Yet, you never showed up until I finally gave up the thought of seeing you again.

Seeing you made me remember how messed up my feelings for you were. I couldn't contain them. And it's so fucking funny how something as shallow as your good looks managed to hook me deep into this abyss of misery. I thought it was just a petty crush. A passing fancy that would soon become a laughing memory. But no, here you were, making me realize that I could do a lot of things that are beyond my principles just to be with you. And all it took you were days. Days of capturing me in my most vulnerable state. Days of making me believe that I could be loved again.

You were like a strong doze of nicotine. I know that it could kill me, but I just couldn't get enough. I was willing to be the other woman. I was willing to kick Miranda to the curb just to be next to you just to feel that same exhilarating rush of euphoria in my veins.  It was toxic. It was wrong. It was addicting.