falling out of love

wine and parks and falling out of love

"you brought alcohol in my house?" her voice was hushed and i just looked at her with a small smile, pulling out two bottles of wine from my bag and shaking them up and down to make a point. to this day, i still remember the way she tackled me, both of us almost missing the bed and landing on her marble floor instead, her hands scurrying to snatch the bottles from me to place them back inside my bag.

"i thought you wanted to 'get drunk and have a silent party'? i quoted her text and she rolled her eyes, a rude action that i have always been fond of somehow.

"i do, but my parents are here," she whispered, even though the 1975 was playing softly in her room, singing about lost love and the doors were locked.

"we could go out?" i suggested.

yes we were underage, and yes i was terribly scared while bribing a man to get the alcohol for me but it was her we were talking about.
making her happy was more of a priority than my own safety and that speaks volumes about how toxic our relationship really was for me.

"you want to drink in public?" she seemed hesitant about it for half a second before she finger gunned at me. "i'm down for it,"

"cool, park then?"

and two hours later we were two wine bottles down and almost smoked half the cigarettes i had bought. i don't exactly remember how many—but they were a lot. we were drunkenly blabbering about anything and everything but amidst every syllable that left her mouth, there were a few that i remember even after being wasted as shit.

"you know when i think about us, and relationships, i feel like we will figure it out someday, we will find our way to each other,"

i didn't understand the statement but i didn't question it further.

the rest of our day included going to the mall completely wasted, having unnecessary amount of chocolate chip pancakes and throwing them up five minutes later in the same stall. i don't remember if i was holding her hair back or she was mine—but we somehow made it through the chaos and ended up in her bedroom trying not to fall asleep and cause any suspicion to her parents.

somehow i remember the way she was holding me tightly—her leg hooked around my waist and her head tucked under my chin—thanking me for all i've done for her even though in that moment we weren't feeling anything but shit. and an hour later, she was kissing my cheek, followed by my forehead and hugging me tightly while she put me in a cab and told me repeatedly to text her once i reach home.

i don't really remember most of the day but i remember one thing vividly—that was the day i started falling out of love.

i knew, even with a shit load of alcohol in my body, i knew that there was something wrong with me when i didn't feel the heat in my cheeks or the butterflies in my stomach whenever she touched me. i was happy—i really was, but it wasn't the same kind of happy. it was the "oh i'm having fun with my friend" kind of happy.

and i don't know why, but things got a lot more morbid for me from that day on.