Emilio Francine De Ramos

The moment Yuwan and Heather made their relationship official, their names spread through the halls of the school like wildfire. By lunchtime the next day, they were the talk of every classroom, cafeteria table, and group chat, a whirlwind of whispers and glances that felt like nails scraping against my skin.

"They're so cute together," someone gushed behind me as I sat alone in the corner of the bustling school cafeteria, my gaze fixated on the untouched meal on my tray. The food grew cold and unappetizing, just like the taste of envy that lingered in my mouth.

"Yeah, they're perfect! Like, they just fit, you know what I mean?" another girl chimed in, her voice dripping with admiration as if it were honey.

I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms, anchoring me against the rising tide of bitterness. Perfect. Everyone saw them as perfect. But what no one saw, what no one knew, was the crack running through my heart, the fissures that widened with every shared smile between Yuwan and Heather. Their happiness felt like a constant reminder of everything I could never have.

From where I sat, I could see them across the cafeteria, radiant in their little world. They laughed together, the kind of laughter that filled the air with light, making the dull fluorescent lights seem brighter. Yuwan leaned in, whispering something into Heather's ear, and she erupted into laughter, the kind that made her eyes sparkle with joy. He looked at her as if she were the most wonderful person on earth, the kind of look I had once dreamed he'd give me.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it stuck, heavy and unmoving like a stone lodged in my chest. It didn't matter how much it hurt; I had no choice but to play my role, the supportive best friend on the sidelines, cheering for someone else's happiness while mine crumbled.

"Hey, Emil! Wait up!" Yuwan's voice called out, slicing through my thoughts like a beacon as I walked toward the school gates after class.

I stopped, forcing a smile as he jogged over to me, his easy, boyish grin lighting up his face. It was the same grin that had once made my heart flutter with hope, but now it felt like a reminder of everything I'd lost.

"You weren't at the hut today," he said, tilting his head in that familiar, playful way, his hair falling just slightly over his forehead, innocent and carefree.

"Yeah, I had to finish some assignments," I lied awkwardly, stuffing my hands deep into my pockets, wishing I could bury my heart along with them. Yuwan fell into step beside me, as if nothing had changed. But everything had shifted beneath the surface, a chasm opening between us that felt impossible to cross.

"You want to hang out tonight?" he asked, his tone bright and hopeful. "Heather's got something with her club, so I'm free."

The offer sent a flicker of hope through me, only to be snuffed out by the reminder that I was just his second choice. I'd always be the backup plan, the friend left behind.

"Not tonight," I muttered, barely able to disguise the weariness in my voice. "Got work."

Yuwan gave me a curious look, his brow furrowed in concern. "You okay, man? You've been kind of off lately."

I bit the inside of my cheek, struggling to hold back the words that clawed at my throat, desperate to break free. I wanted to scream that no, I wasn't okay. I wanted to tell him that every time I saw him with Heather, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest, tearing at the fabric of our friendship. But instead, I forced a tight smile, one that felt like a mask slipping over the truth.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just busy with assignments," I said, hoping the words wouldn't betray the storm brewing behind my eyes.

Yuwan stared at me for a moment longer, as if he didn't believe me, but then he gave a small shrug, letting it go. "Alright. Well, text me later if you change your mind, okay?"

I nodded, watching him walk away, back to the life where he no longer needed me as much as I needed him. That night, I made a decision. I'd had enough. Enough of pretending I was fine. Enough of watching Yuwan and Heather from the sidelines. Enough of being second best.

I texted Melissa, asking her to cover my shift for the night, texting her that it was an 'emergency,' but in reality, I was on my way to a nearby bar. I wanted to forget everything, the ache of watching Yuwan fall for someone else, the constant reminder of my own unworthiness. The bar was tucked into a quiet corner of the city, a place where no one from school would find me, and I could drown my sorrows in anonymity.

The neon sign flickered like a heartbeat as I pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room that reeked of cigarette smoke and spilled beer. The atmosphere was thick, filled with a haze that mirrored my clouded mind. The bartender barely looked my way, giving me a cursory glance before wordlessly filling my order. I must have looked like someone who'd had their heart cracked open one too many times.

I slid onto the barstool and ordered vodka, the first thing that came to mind. The burn of the alcohol was sharp, almost brutal, but it was better than the ache lodged in my chest. One drink turned into two, then three, each one dulling the edges of the hurt that had been gnawing at me. By the fourth, the world transformed into a blur, a dizzying haze of neon lights and muffled voices, the harsh colors and sounds that began to drown out my sorrow.

For the first time, I didn't care. I didn't care about Yuwan, about Heather, or about the hollow space in my life that had grown since they'd started spending every moment together. I was tired of being the afterthought, the reliable friend left behind. Here, in this loud, smoky bar, I could let that tiredness weigh me down without the urge to hold it back.

At some point, my phone slipped from my pocket, the glow of the screen blurring as I fumbled to focus on the contacts list. It took several clumsy tries to find his name, Yuwan. Maybe I shouldn't have called, but the alcohol muffled that instinct, along with everything else that screamed at me to stop.

"Hey, Yuwan~" I slurred, unable to mask the weariness in my voice that clung to me like a shroud.

"Emil?" His tone was immediately sharp, laced with concern. "Where are you? Wait, are you... drunk?"

I laughed, the sound hollow, almost bitter. "Yuuup. Drunk as hell. S'hard, Yuwan. It's really s'hard... Can't keep... Can't keep doing this, you know?"

He was silent for a moment, and I could almost picture the crease in his brow, the way his mouth tightened when he was worried. "Stay where you are," he said, his voice serious and urgent in a way I rarely heard. "I'm coming to get you. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

The call ended, and I barely managed to set the phone down before it slipped from my fingers, landing on the bar with a dull thud. For a while, I just sat there, staring into the empty glass, the noise around me fading to a dull roar. Time seemed to stretch, each second dragging with the weight of everything I hadn't said, each moment heavy with regret. I barely registered him coming in, but there he was, his face tense as he slipped an arm around my shoulders, lifting me from the barstool with a gentle urgency.

"Jesus, Emil," he muttered, his tone caught between worry and exasperation. "What the hell were you thinking?"

I leaned against him, my head swimming in a mix of alcohol and unspoken emotions. "I wasn't," I mumbled. "Didn't know what else to do."

He sighed, and I could feel the tightness in his grip, the weight of his silence pressing down on us. Outside, the cool air hit my face, sharpening my senses just enough for the ache to creep back in. As he helped me to his car, a bitter laugh escaped me. "I didn't want to be a burden, you know?"

"Burden?" He shook his head, a mixture of sadness and frustration swirling in his eyes as he buckled me into the passenger seat. "You're not a burden, Emil. You never were."

The drive was quiet, only the low hum of the engine filling the silence. I looked out the window, watching the city lights blur by, each one dragging my thoughts back to Yuwan, to the unspoken words and unanswered questions. When we reached my dorm, he helped me inside, steadying me as I stumbled toward the couch. I fell onto it, head in my hands, the weight of everything I'd tried to drown out pressing down on me again.

"You need water," he said quietly, disappearing into the kitchen. When he returned, he handed me the glass, his eyes soft yet troubled, filled with a mixture of concern and something else I couldn't quite read.

"Why, Emil?" he asked, sitting down beside me. "What's wrong? You can tell me."

I opened my mouth, but the words tangled up in my throat, caught between wanting to tell him everything and not wanting him to feel guilty. How could I explain the loneliness of watching him drift closer to Heather while I faded into the background, a shadow of the friend he used to lean on?

"Whatever it is you're dealing with, you don't have to do this alone," he said, his voice softer now, as if sensing my hesitation. "I'm still here. I'll always be here, Emil."

The kindness in his voice cut deeper than anything he could've said, salt on the raw wound I'd been nursing for too long. His words were a reminder of what we'd had, of the bond I'd come to depend on, now tinged with the knowledge that things would never be the same. Even now, sitting next to him, feeling his concern, there was a distance between us, one that no amount of words could bridge. I wanted so badly to believe him, but I knew that in his heart, he was already somewhere else, with someone else.

After he left, the dorm felt emptier than ever, his absence pressing down on me like a weight. I sat there for a long time, staring at the spot where he'd been, wondering if there'd ever be a way back to what we once had. It felt like trying to hold onto a handful of sand, slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I tried to grasp it. I knew I couldn't keep pretending, couldn't keep playing the part of the loyal friend, watching from the sidelines as he drifted further away.

But letting go would be the hardest thing I'd ever do. For now, all I could do was survive, day by day, hoping that one day the ache would fade. Tonight, though, it remained, raw, sharp, and unforgiving, a testament to the love that lingered in the shadows, just out of reach.