I stare down the straw of my drink and rotate my cup around, trying to determine whether there’s any more smoothie left at the bottom. After a couple of seconds, I give up and decide there’s not any left, so I toss the cup into the trashcan next to me. Then I immediately regret it because it was my only distraction from Das’s incessant complaining that hasn’t stopped since we arrived. I throw him a glare from the side of my vision, but he doesn’t notice it at all. He’s too caught up in his wide gestures and unlimited ranting. 

I try to ignore him because it’s obvious he needs to vent, but it quickly becomes too much for me to handle without some sort of buffer (such as a simple empty cup to fidget with). It’s just him practically screaming about the same things over and over. Like, I have my own things to worry about, thank you very much. I don’t need his problems too, especially since they’re so juvenile. Why can’t he just grow up for once? 

I reach out and slap my hand over his mouth. “Please, fucking shut up.” 

He pushes my hand away from his mouth and scowls at me. “You whine to me all the time. Why can’t I talk about my problems to you?” 

I lean back on the shitty mall bench and let my head fall against the wall. “Because,” I huff, “your problems are ridiculous.” 

“They are not!” 

“Are too! If you really like Cecillia that much, then just tell her, you dumbass.” 

His cheeks darken just the slightest bit more, and I can tell he’s blushing even with his swarthy complexion. He looks away from me and over to where Ces is running around gleefully. 

This whole time she has been prancing around the mall, going shop to shop and clinging onto her boyfriend, Aster. And right now, she is suggestively bent over a large glass display case, no doubt trying to convince Aster to buy her one of the numerous expensive diamond rings that she’s ever so passionately admiring. Obviously, they’re meant for engagement, but that doesn't seem to bother Aster in the slightest as he digs his credit card out of his wallet and hands it to the clerk. I watch as Cecillia slips one of the ornate bands on her finger and holds it up in front of her face, letting it twinkle and shine under the bright white lights of the jeweler’s. Then she squeals excitedly and flings herself into Aster’s arms, kissing his face all over like a lovesick puppy. 

I’m brought back into reality when I hear Das dramatically whimper in pain as if the sight physically hurts him. I don’t resist rolling my eyes at his idiocy before turning back to face him. “I’m serious. If you love her as much as you say you do, tell her. At least make an attempt to take her. I mean, what’s the point in crying about it if you’re never going to do it? You have no right to complain otherwise.” 

“What do you know, Akuji? You’ve got yourself a man, and you don’t even appreciate it. You’ve spent your entire life whoring yourself out; you don’t know what love is like. You can’t even begin to imagine how painful it is.” 

I stand up suddenly and stomp my foot down, feeling the rage boil inside of me. “Is that what you think?” I yell. 

The people around us go silent, and Das is flushed with embarrassment. His eyes shift around to the people surrounding us, and he grimaces uncomfortably. “Well, it’s true. You’ve said it yourself; you’re a whore,” he whispers in an attempt to turn our conversation away from the public ear. 

I shake my head and let my shoulders relax. “No, I know that. But do you seriously think that I don’t know how painful being in love is?” 

“I would assume. You’ve never stayed in a relationship for longer than two months, and that record was set by this relationship—the one between you and Brennan,” he reasons, looking down at his feet and shrugging. 

“And why do you think that is, Das? Tell me. Why would I still be with him when I literally hate him? Why would I want to stay with someone that makes me feel so utterly and completely worthless but amazing and special at the same time? Why would I want to stay in a relationship where I am constantly brushed off and given the Silent Treatment? Why would I want to stay with the person who seems so heartless that even Hitler would call it inhumane? Why, Das? Why? Because at this point, there is only one reasonable answer.”  

His face falls into gentle sympathy, and I immediately regret saying anything. Das opens his mouth to respond to me, but he doesn’t have time to start before Cecillia runs up to us. She’s all ecstatic elation, showing off her new bling and designer clothes, and honestly, it ticks me off more than it should. Not to mention, Aster is right behind her, grinning and admiring her like she’s some trophy to keep in a glass case. Das refuses to even look up at them, keeping his gaze trained on me like he’s trying to silently tell me something that I’m not going to listen to. 

I know I only made him feel so much worse by yelling at him then calling him out like an asshole. In fact, it probably made his day go from bad to horribly upsetting, but I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand how he said that as if I’ve never known disappointment—as if my life has been all butterflies and rainbows and not hellfire and bloody messes. How could he think that we’re all privileged and he’s the only one in pain?  

It explains the reason why Cecillia isn’t with him. I wouldn’t be with him.  

Maybe me saying that I wouldn’t be with him isn’t the best example. My taste in men is arguably poor, but maybe that makes it a better example. Does it say something that I’d rather remain in my current, probably emotionally-abusive relationship than date Das? A little bit. Then again, I’m in love with Brennan, and Das has never even once been an interest of mine, surprisingly. 

And though I know I shouldn’t leave Das here with the person he loves and the partner of said person, I’m going to anyway. I’m too fed up with him; I’m too fed up with Cecillia; and I’m too fed up with stupid fucking Aster, ruining everything and making even outings with my friends miserable. 

My attention snaps back to Cecillia. “I mean, do you see how big that diamond is?” she gushes, thrusting her hand in front of my face.  

I swat it away and scowl. “I don’t care, Cecillia,” I growl. 

“Akuji, oh, you’re just jealous,” she giggles obnoxiously. 

I look away and eye the exit. 

“Akuji, maybe we could get matching ones! Oh, that would be so cute.”  

She grabs my hands in hers, and I don’t hesitate to yank them right back out of her hold. 

“Shut up, Cecillia! I don’t care,” I shout, and she flinches away, surprised that I’d raise my voice.  

“Aku—” 

“No, no. Cecillia, listen for once. Let me spell it out for you: no one cares. No one likes Aster. We don’t want him here, and you’re too fucking stupid to see what’s right in front of you. Call me a hypocrite, but I’m tired of you hoeing around when there are people who want real relationships with you.” 

“Aster is a real relationship!” she screeches. 

“No, he’s a sugar daddy,” I tell her, and Aster runs his hand through his fuckboy-blonde hair and furrows his brow as if I’ve offended him. 

“And what do you know about settling down? You’re more of a whore than me. Your body count is higher than the Holocaust’s,” she countered. 

“Don’t even,” I enunciate, pointing my finger at her. 

“Plus, I’m happy,” she continues. “Isn’t that what you want from me? Don’t you just want me to be happy and in love?” 

“But you’re not in love, Ces. I know you, and I know that as soon as he” —I gesture towards Aster— “starts asking for an actual romantic relationship and stops handing you fifties, you’ll leave him.” 

“I would not!” she gasps, and then she turns to place her hand on Aster’s chest. 

He takes her hand in his and frowns at her. “Would you?” he asks in a smooth and deep voice. 

“No, of course not,” she coos. “I’d never. I love you.” 

And he smiles contently. It makes me want to throw up. 

I cross my arms and shift my weight away from her. “You know, I really can’t stand to be around this. I’m leaving.” 

I start to walk away, but then I remember something and spin around to look at Das. “And I swear on my mother’s life, if you don’t say something, I will. I fuckin’ tired of hearing about it. And don’t for a second think that I’m kidding. Because I’m not. I will tell.” 

Then, I leave.