Chapter 1

      I'm only thinking about two things right now: how to move on and how to forget an ex-lover. I've been staring at this dating site for who knows how long and still haven't decided whether or not to join. It's been a particularly difficult year for me, and it's only September. I suppose I still have time to enjoy Christmas to the fullest if only I could meet someone who could assist me throughout the year. I don't care if it's platonic or romantic; I just need to forget about him.

Sighing, I pressed the exit button and instead typed in the search bar. Modern problems necessitate modern solutions, so rather than show everyone how desperate I am, I decided to do it privately so that I could at least save my face. I know there's not much of a difference, but hey, a man can suck it up. My fingers typed those words quickly — how should I proceed?

I quickly clicked the first link and skimmed through the entire thing. I chose to read everything after seeing how the steps are explained.

"The first step is to accept what has happened." My mouth felt like it was being burned by acid. Accept what has occurred? To me, it sounds impossible. I just can't accept it, okay? We'd been together since secondary school, and we were perfect, until one mistake — one mistake! — brought everything crashing down. Tutting, I read the next line, "You can't move on if you can't accept that the relationship has already ended." 

Psych! 

Who said I had to move on in the first place? I internally screamed, "That's simply something made up by the illuminati!" No matter how hard I think about it, I just can't seem to accept reality. I continue to check my notifications in the hopes of seeing his name and phone number, or even just one of those two things, but to no avail. It's been three weeks, and I've been the same way the entire time. 

"Goddamn Razen, what did you do to me?" I whispered. 

I used to be unconcerned with my previous relationships. Whenever something comes to an end, I have this attitude that everything will be fine in the future. Everyone knew me as the upbeat, bright man. I didn't believe it until I met Razen. He was like a ray of sunshine with a smattering of strange characteristics hurling himself at me, and everything — and I mean everything — changed in an instant. For the first time in my life, I was frightened of losing someone.

And I did lose that someone.

All because of one mistake. Or was it even a mistake when he intentionally did it?

I sighed deeply and picked up my phone, which had been ringing for at least three minutes. Answering the phone in a sluggish manner, with no apparent motive. Everything just made me realize how much I rely on him to function well; it's as if I'm completely reliant on him, and if he's not here, I'm not myself. As an example, right now. I wanted to be the old me, the playful me, but I just don't have the energy. 

"Where the hell are you?"

Isn't there even a greeting? I looked at the contact number with a grimace on my face and exasperatedly gasped. I just realized I have a blind date today, and dang, did I just make the worst first impression ever? Because, certainly, I believe that being punctual is the most appealing quality. I keep stumbling over my own words. It's entirely his fault. 

"I'm off!" exclaims me. "I'll be there in five!" I yelled, literally putting my phone on speaker and throwing it at the bed so I could fix myself and put on some good clothing that didn't smell like 'I can't move on from my ex so I chose to drink 24/7 and haven't washed all week.'

Or ten. Maybe fifteen. Perhaps a good twenty minutes.

     The best clothing I could come up with was a white polo with three open buttons, black belt, and plain blue trousers with a backpack containing everything I need in case of emergency. I almost roared in disgust as I looked at the percentage of my battery remaining. How could it possibly make me stay on a 3-hour blind date if it's on 37%? My phone is the only thing that keeps me from being a grumpy potatoe bean. And, of course, if I'm in a hurry, my charger has to play hide and seek with me. 

Hearing my phone ring again, I groaned in annoyance and decided to leave it. Wherever my charger is, I hope it is not in a good place — oh, wait, no. That will leave me… uh… charger-less? Is that even a real word? Whatever, it is now. I make the rules.

Picking up the call, I hurriedly spoke up first, "I'm actually on my way. Don't even scare me into coming because I am coming!"

After that, there was a long pause. I gazed at the contact number with furrowed brows and almost, almost, tripped if I hadn't stopped in my tracks. Everything felt like a movie: the loud booming on my chest, the twisting of the knots in my stomach, the blurred vision.

"Razen?"

     THE background of the cafe made me feel at home. It warms me up from the inside out. Bullets of sweat continue to drip from my brow, and my handkerchief has been saturated with the moisture. I'm a little worried. I'm scared to death. I'm terrified. And all of the other synonyms that come to mind — I am like that.

For the past five minutes, I've been biting my fingers. I have a habit of doing this if I can't rest. It's difficult to relax right now, especially when I'm waiting for him and not just anyone else with whom I could play. I've been preparing myself for what's to come because I know deep down that this is the end. And I'm not sure I'm ready for those words to be spoken.

I don't get it. We had already ended our relationship. But his presence had been causing me to experience strange emotions that I'd been attempting to suppress. I'm a self-assured young man, yet when it comes to him, all of my flaws fade away. I'm not sure if that's a good thing because I still feel alive, that I'm not completely numb, or a bad thing because we've already ended and I shouldn't be so in love with someone I can't have... anymore. 

Just before the doorbells clashed together, I squeezed my lips together into a narrow line. Outside, a tall figure cast a shadow over the honeyed hues, and when I looked up, there he was. That's my man. Oh. Right. He's no longer my man. At the very least, he was mine, wasn't he? That's preferable to nothing. 

He looks so ethereal. "Hey."

"Hey," I responded, motioning him to have a seat, which he declined by shaking his head. It seemed obvious to me. This is why I never bothered to order; he's only here to clarify things. Why did I ever hope he'd apologize to me?

"I'm not planning on staying long." 

I know. I know that very well. I'm aware, Razen. 

"I called to return this to you," says him. He began by setting a tiny box on the table. "I'm getting ready to leave. And because I can't bring any more luggage, I've chosen to return it to you. I'm going to stay in Texas for the rest of my life—"

"– you're not required to explain." In whispered tones, I cut him off. My heart breaks as he continues to speak. And the butterflies I'd been experiencing had vanished. An extra luggage? Is that how he sees me now? I mistook myself as his home. Was I the only one who had this thought? Was it all based on my own assumptions? 

In my peripheral vision, I saw him nodded. "I see. I have to go now."

I kept a poker face and merely nodded in response. I'm not interested in conversing anymore. Because I know I'm going to cry if I say another word. I'm pretty sure I'd lose it. I'm well aware that if I say another word, I'll be a complete disaster. And I don't want him to see how upset I am about him. I don't want him to realize how much I care about him that I'm willing to risk everything, including my long-cherished appearance. My dignity is the only thing I have, and if he knew how much I suffered, I'd be completely destroyed.

Nothing.

And before I could even stop myself, I spoke up, "Wait."

"Yeah?"

"Do you love her?"

I needed to know, as much as it hurt. I needed to inflict more pain on myself before I could finally go on and forget about him. To be able to un-love him, I needed to lose every ounce of myself first.

"I found everything that you lack in her."

That was enough for me. As I gulped, I gazed up at him with a real smile. I locked my gaze on his features for a few moments. I cannot really cry right now. "I'm glad for you," I said next, and it wasn't a lie. 

He didn't even crack a smile. He didn't even say thank you. Instead, he asked me a question that nearly made me lose all of my courage right now. "Are you truly happy and content?" What a blunder of a question. 

Do I consider myself to be happy and content? Is he seriously thinking that once he built me, he'll leave me happy? All of the walls I worked so hard to keep firm, all of the walls no one had ever shattered, crumbled. And there would be an extra crack every time he spoke something. Because he assisted me in constructing those, there would be extra devastation that I could not prevent. I had no idea he was assisting me in eventually ruining myself.

Again, I smiled. "You're my happiness."

     ONE, TWO, and THREE SILENT SOBS. I looked out the bus window with my head cocked. I'm hoping no one notices that I'm a sobbing mess right now. That is completely humiliating. I quickly grabbed up the package and fled after saying those things. I'm curious about the contents of this box. I did everything I could to keep from crying so that I could see clearly. I just want to double-check that he has everything I gave him. I'm still hoping he retained something that reminded him of me and our memories.

I opened the box with all the confidence I had left. The scrapbook I gave for our first anniversary was the first thing I saw. This took me two weeks to complete. Everything was written by hand, and I completed it all at home. I stayed up all night studying tutorials because I had no idea how to create a cardboard sculpture. I also recall burning my hand as I attempted to melt the colors with candles; I won't go into detail because it just occurred. It was unnecessary for me to browse through the pages. What's inside is as clear as crystal to me.

I'm relieved that the seat next to me is free. I'd be able to fit everything in there. I set the scrapbook down next to me and examined the following item. Sky was a tiny teddy bear I had purchased for him. I recall spending my school funds simply to be able to afford this. I worked so hard for a hundred dollars only to satisfy his desires. That was a blunder on my part. I also recall how pleased he appeared when I handed Sky over to him. He said it was the finest day of his life because he could finally hug someone while I wasn't available. 

Lies. All lies.

Then came a wristwatch, a bottle of perfume, a golden necklace, stationery, and all the other things I had given him. I had to persuade my aunt to lend me money because they were all so pricey. That memory made me laugh. I got bruises and wounds that I had to cover for a week just to get all of this, and the only thing I got after that was a broken heart. But I'm not complaining. 

At the very least, I was able to make him happy. Even if he wasn't the happiest, at the very least I helped. That, I suppose, is all that matters. I didn't care about the sacrifices I made or the losses I suffered as long as I was able to meet his demands – I was content. And I believe I am still content right now. He had finally found his bliss.

I'm glad.

I'm delighted there's someone who can cuddle him to sleep, deal with his anger issues, sooth him, give him breakfast in bed, get his clothes ready — everything. I'm overjoyed that he's found his 'the one.'

But I'd lie if I'll say I'm not hurting. I am. So much to the point that I could cut my arm off and what's gonna hurt more is the beating inside my chest. I want it to stop. All the things I did just so I could call him mine? All the things I did…. I hope it wasn't a waste of effort.

And if somebody would ask me if I still love him, I'd lie.