Emilio Francine De Ramos

The night was calm as I made my way back to the dorms, the quiet punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets, their symphony weaving a gentle backdrop against the velvet sky. The moon hung high, a silver coin cast into the vast darkness, illuminating the path ahead with a soft glow that felt almost ethereal. Each step I took was a step deeper into my thoughts, the events of the day lingering in my mind like an unfinished song, heavy with unspoken words and feelings. Silas and I had shared something raw and true, a moment that felt like the first breath after a long plunge underwater. Yet, beneath the comfort of his presence, Heather’s words still echoed in my mind, opening wounds I thought had healed.

As I approached the dimly lit hallway of our dorm, I was surprised to find Yuwan standing by my door, a silhouette against the soft light streaming from inside.

“Emil.” His voice was low, barely breaking the stillness of the night, a murmur wrapped in a hint of something restrained and vulnerable.

“Yuwan, w-what are you doing here?” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt, though the sight of him stirred a tempest of memories within me. It was strange how a single moment could pull me back to the vibrant past I’d tried so hard to leave behind.

He looked at me, his eyes a mixture of regret and determination, reflecting the wavering light as if revealing the depths of his emotions. “Can we talk?”

I hesitated, the weight of his request pressing down on me like the thick humidity before a summer storm. But I nodded, unlocking my door and leading him inside. The room was small and cozy, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the window, casting long shadows that danced across the walls like restless spirits. I closed the door behind us, the quiet pressing down like a weight, creating an intimacy that felt both suffocating and safe. We settled into our respective corners of the room, an invisible divide echoing between us, until the silence grew heavy, filled with the unsaid.

Yuwan took a deep breath, his gaze fixated on the floor, as if searching for the right words among the scattered memories. “I know you spoke with Heather,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure she told you things… about why we were together. And maybe about me, too.”

The rawness in his tone caught me off guard. I’d expected anger, resentment, even bitterness, but instead, he seemed… resigned, stripped bare of the bravado he usually wore like armor. I folded my hands together, the movement instinctive, waiting for him to continue.

“Heather’s confession… it forced me to face things I’ve kept buried,” he admitted, his voice fragile, as if the very act of speaking could shatter the fragile cocoon we had wrapped ourselves in. “For so long, I wanted to be with her, or at least I thought I did. But I never realized… I was just trying to fill a space that couldn’t be filled by her or anyone else.”

“Yuwan…” I started, unsure of what to say, but he held up a hand, his eyes pleading, searching for understanding.

“Please, just let me get this out,” he urged softly, the intensity of his gaze anchoring me in place. “I’ve been trying to make sense of everything. And when Heather left, I was angry, angry at her for using me, and angry at myself for letting her. But it was never about her. It was… it was about you, Emil.”

The confession hung in the air like a sudden, powerful gust, leaving me breathless. I met his gaze, which sparkled with unrestrained emotion, and in that moment, I knew he meant every word.

“Emil,” he continued, his voice trembling slightly, “I spent so long convincing myself that I wanted her, that I wanted someone who could be easy, uncomplicated. But the truth is… the only person I ever really wanted was you.”

He paused, his hands trembling slightly as he looked away, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual calm exterior. “I was afraid to admit it. I didn’t know if I’d ever be enough for you, and I didn’t want to risk what we had. But now, I can’t ignore it anymore. Seeing you with Silas… it made me realize that I… I’ve been in love with you all along.”

The words struck a chord within me, resonating with a familiarity I hadn’t expected. There it was, the confession I had once yearned for, words I had waited years to hear, yet they carried with them the weight of a past I had tried to forget. My heart ached, torn between the memories that clung to me like a half-remembered dream and the vibrant future I had begun to build with Silas.

“Yuwan,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady amidst the maelstrom of emotions swirling within me. “Why now? After everything… why are you now telling me this?”

He sighed, running a hand over his face, the gesture a mix of weariness and regret. “Because I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. I couldn’t stand by, watching you slip away. I know it’s selfish, Emil, but I can’t just let you go. Not without telling you how I feel. I needed you to know the truth, even if it’s too late.”

His gaze bore into mine, intense and searching, the air thick with the gravity of his admission. I could feel the weight of his words settling over me, dredging up memories I’d carefully stored away. The nights we’d spent tangled in laughter and unspoken dreams, the fleeting moments when our hands brushed and the world seemed to fade away. Yet, entwined in those memories was the echo of a truth I couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t know if I can even believe you, Yuwan. You have already hurt me, so much that I lost count.” I said, my voice barely a whisper, trembling at the edges. “I’m tired of hurting, I’m tired of always being the one who is alone at the end. I don’t want to feel hurt anymore, Yuwan.” He just stared at me, knowing what I was saying was the truth.

“The night I confessed, I was ready to let go of everything just to be with you, but you fucking threw it away. You already lost your chance, and you expect me to believe that you like me? All this time?”

“Emil I-”

“When you left that night, I thought I was going to be all alone again, but do you know who was there for me? It was Silas, it has always been Silas, and I am fucking idiot to realize it now. He’s been there for me in ways I didn’t know I needed. He’s taught me to trust again, to be vulnerable, to finally deserve love. And it’s real, Yuwan. If I weren’t so broken, I would’ve said yes to him a long time ago, but you were the one who was preventing me from loving him because I was blinded by hoping you would love me back.”

Yuwan closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of my words had finally broken him.

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with resignation, a lament for what could never be. “ I know that I am a piece of shit to even be standing here in front of you, that I was stupid enough to even let you go but Emil… I need you to know that my feelings are real, too. I would do anything to make things right between us.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with everything we both wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. I wanted to reach out, to offer him some comfort, but I knew that any gesture might only deepen the wound we were both trying to heal.

“It’s too late Yuwan,” I said finally, my voice soft but firm, a fragile declaration against the weight of our shared history. “You can’t fix what’s already shattered. What we had was beautiful, but it was also flawed. We were both trying to be people we weren’t. I needed you to be something you couldn’t be, and maybe… maybe you were doing the same with me.”

He looked at me, his expression a blend of hope and despair. “So… this is it, right? You’ll choose him?”

The question hung in the air, a specter of loss that hovered between us. For a moment, I felt the sting of regret, a sharp ache for the future we’d once envisioned together. But alongside that pain was the realization that Silas was a part of my life now, a grounding force who had been there through the storm of uncertainty and sorrow. The choice, though difficult, had already been made.

“I think… I think we need to let each other go, Yuwan,” I said, my voice trembling slightly, the admission a weighty burden on my heart. “It’s for the best, for both of us to be at peace. I can’t pretend that things didn’t change and I can no longer pretend that Silas doesn’t mean the world to me now.”

Yuwan’s face crumpled, the mask he’d worn for so long finally breaking, revealing the vulnerable soul beneath. He nodded, his expression one of quiet acceptance, though I could see the hurt reflected in his eyes, a mirror of the pain that echoed in my own heart.

“I understand,” he said, his voice choked, the words spilling out like a final confession. “I just… I wanted to be the one for you, Emil. I wanted to make you happy.”

“You did,” I whispered, the sincerity of the words catching in my throat like a sob. “You were a part of me, but we have to move forward.”

A small, bittersweet smile crept onto his face as he reached over, his fingers brushing mine, a fleeting touch that carried the weight of everything left unsaid. “Thank you for everything, Emil. Thank you for letting me be with you, even if it was only for a while.”

We sat in silence for a moment, hands clasped together in a final gesture of farewell, before he pulled away, his gaze distant as he rose to his feet. He looked back at me one last time, a mixture of sorrow and acceptance swimming in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Emil,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that broke my heart all over again, each syllable a whisper of finality.

“Goodbye, Yuwan,” I replied, feeling the weight of the farewell settle over me like a shroud.

As he left the room, the ache in my chest deepened, a reminder of what once was, but beneath it, there was a strange sense of peace. A chapter had closed, one I’d held onto for too long. And in its place, there was room for something new, something real.

Later that night, when I finally reached out to Silas, his voice came to me like a warm embrace, familiar and grounding, a lifeline in the darkness that threatened to engulf me. He listened as I poured out my heart, the words spilling forth like water breaking through a dam, raw and unfiltered.

“I’m here, Emil,” he said when I’d finished, his voice calm and sure, wrapping around me like a security blanket. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time, I believed it, the promise hanging in the air between us, a fragile thread of hope woven into the tapestry of our shared story.