The Man Who Left | ✔

36 | pleure.

P L E U R E

[french → cries] 

Nathan sat by the bar counter, taking in as much shots as he could. He knew it. He knew that Maya was once someone close to him—he could feel it in is damn veins. Maya—the girl that he once loved and will always do. The girl that was always by his side when he always needed. The girl that never gave up on him.

Out of all of a sudden, he felt dumb. Stupid, perhaps—or even worst, a liar. All these days, Maya was always with him. He didn't even realise that he was with his fiancé all the time. She must've felt horrible—after what she's gone through. After months of being in grief. After months of living without him.

"You don't have to punish yourself for that you know," A familiar voice broke the silence. Standing only a few feet away from him was Maya—her face so sulky, her eyes swollen. "I—I've tried to tell you everything. I—I was scared."

Nathan's voice cracked. "Scared? Of what?"

"Losing you," Maya breathed out, a single drop of tear rolled down her cheek as she spoke again. "I was scared of losing you. Again. I've already lost you once. And I didn't even know that you were alive all this time—I should be the one punishing myself."

Maya approached Nathan, sobbing. "I should be the one beside you when you were in coma. I should be the one beside you when you woke up. I should be the one taking care of you. I— I shouldn't have ran away. I was so stupid, so vulnerable."

Nathan slipped his hands into hers, clutching it as tight as ever. His eyes stung with tears. "I really don't know what to say anymore—" Sighing, he felt a throbbing pain is head, his eyelids grew heavier every second. 

A sudden pain in his head dizzied him — he was feeling nauseous all over again, just like the day he woke up from his coma. He felt his hand being clutched tighter, and tighter. "Nate? Are you okay? Nate!"

Before his eyes and mind went blank, the last thing he heard was a wisp of Maya's pleading cries, calling for him.