Confession
"Deep in my heart I'm concealing things that I'm longing to say. Scared to confess what I'm feeling - frightened you'll slip away." ~Madonna
Baralai sliced the raw chicken meat at a leisurely pace while listening to a new, popular song on the radio. Borrowed from Yuna's room, the contraption had been placed on the countertop two feet away - streaming music to help pass the time. Five young ladies sung in chorus a melancholic, lyrical, and enchanting melody. His hums were drawn-out and smooth, touched with a light timbre of sadness - following along to the rhythm of the music.
'The world slows down but my heart beats fast right now…
I know this is the part where the end starts…'
The water started boiling noisily, briefly interrupting his tune. Baralai turned the knob to MED HIGH, before pushing aside the chunks with the flat side of the butcher knife and repeating the same actions with a new slab of meat. He allowed his thoughts to drift. To see Yuna again, coupled with the fact she's handling herself quite well despite the fever, eased his worries. He'd better keep himself occupied and forget about their misgivings for the rest of the day to take full responsibility of her health. That was the important thing right now.
'I hate this part right here…
I hate this part right here…
I just can't take your tears…
I hate this part right here…'
After sliding the meat off the cutting board and into the pot, Baralai turned on the water faucet to rinse the juice off the knife, scrubbing it free of bacteria with a soapy sponge. Once he finished washing it, Baralai turned the water faucet off and was about to place the knife aside for later use when the loud, piercing sound of a ringing telephone echoed within the kitchen. It nearly startled him to drop the butcher knife onto his foot, but God bless his fast reflexes.
"Huh, I wonder who might be calling…" he mumbled, dismissing the annoying, raucous rings with practiced tolerance while waiting patiently for the message machine to pick it up. Baralai placed the knife down on the countertop, next going to search inside the refrigerator for the veggies in need of the chicken soup. "I hope Braska doesn't mind if I use his food," Baralai muttered idly to himself, withdrawing the ingredients and spreading the vegetables out neatly on the dining table. He began to unwrap the plastic off the parsley when he heard the last voice he ever wanted to hear.
"Yuna, baby! It's me Gippal." Baralai frowned viciously at his friend's obnoxious voice. What is he calling Yuna's house for? "I noticed you weren't at school today. Broke my little heart, you know." Oh, please. Baralai rolled his eyes and scoffed apathetically, and then proceeded to retrieve a new clean cutting board for the vegetables from the drawer. If he could imagine the carrots as his best friend, the energy put forth in cutting them would increase zealously. "Anyway, are we still up for this weekend? I know you've said no already, but c'mon. Lighten up."
Be calm. Be calm. Must be calm. It was a mantra he repeated over and over in his head to keep a tight leash on his emotions - and it was working. Do not let him get the better of you, he assured himself, taking deep and even breaths. When it became easier to ignore Gippal's voice, Baralai resumed his task as if nothing had happened. Before long, a new song began to play on the radio. "So what if you're not in the mood? You can't be depressed forever. Move on with your life. There's more fish in the sea. I'll make you forget all about Baralai. C'mon, it'll be fun~!" And then his unwavering calm composure shattered into a thousand pieces. Baralai seriously couldn't take it anymore.
Oh, like hell I'll let him do that. The enraged teenager basically did what any guy who had a backstabbing best friend would do: he thrust the almighty butcher knife to cut the phone line dead. Exhaling a deep breath to steady his riled emotions, Baralai retracted his weapon and laid the blunt edge on his shoulder, scowling darkly at the object as if it was the source of all his woes. Gippal is a dead man, for sexually harassing my ex-girlfriend. Baralai just had to take his anger out on the poor, innocent telephone since Gippal wasn't physically present to be maimed excruciatingly slow. Then, he exhaled, releasing the stifling pressure in his chest.
Might as well get back to cooking… Next, taking a side-long glance at the decapitated phone, he sighed - a twinge of guilt prickling his conscience. I better remember to apologize to Yuna's father later for damaging his property.
To channel his anger out in a more productive manner without harming further house appliances, Baralai continued to slice and dice the celery sticks, parsley, and carrots with frightening, lightning-fast precision. Frequently, he would dump the contents sharply into the pot until there were none left. His emotions eventually began to mellow down. At least something good came out of this. It was the optimist in him, to unearth anything positive within even the most miserable, depressing of circumstances. I got to have a chance to spend time with Yuna. Thus, he began to hum again, following the rapid rhythm of the festive song while rummaging through the cabinets in search of a medicine sufficient for Yuna's fever.
'Cause you're hot then your cold,
You're yes then you're no,
You're in then you're out,
You're up then you're down~'
Dayquil? No. The orange-flavored concoction tasted unbelievably horrible, and Baralai could sympathize. Tylenol? Oh, God, no. Medicine of the Devil himself. The accursed medicine was responsible for many deaths sweeping across the nation. How could Yuna's parents be so careless as to not be aware of its fatal side-effects if chosen to foolishly overdose on it? Nonetheless, Baralai took the liberty of throwing it away.
He finally settled on aspirin pills. These would do. Placing the container aside with the refilled glass of water, he stood in front of the stove and gripped the wooden spoon in hand, churning the steaming hot soup with slow, easy motions. Then, after a few moments, lifted the spoon to his lips and cautiously tasted the broth. Tasty, if I do say so myself. He smiled, quite proud with his achievement.
'You're wrong when it's right,
It's black and it's white,
We fight, we break up,
We kiss, we make up~
You don't really want to stay, no~
You don't really wanna go-o~'
Baralai heard the stairs creak, and the uneven stump of footsteps. Yuna? He placed the glass lid over the pot, leaving a small gap for the steam to escape through. Next wiping his hands with a clean rag, he turned off the radio and exited the kitchen to inspect the noise.
To his dismay, he found Yuna, freshly showered and garbed in warm clothing like he had advised, leaning on the wall for support near the bottom of the stairs. She tried to maintain her laborious, shallow breathing, though struggling with the effort. Should she really be up and about walking by herself? This girl is begging for trouble. Baralai was immediately brought out of his mental grumbling when seeing her sway from where she stood. Uh-oh. That doesn't look good… When she suddenly collapsed, Baralai rushed to her side and tucked her into his arms, making his way to the living room. Next, he carefully placed her down on the couch to rest, laying her head gingerly on a square-shaped, multi-colored pillow.
"Why did you leave the room? You could have waited for me to help you," he chastised, his tone firm and ridden with worry.
"I don't… want to wait…" she whispered breathlessly, grasping his hand in both of hers. "I want you… right here…" Directing his hand to rest over her heart, she closed her eyes and gulped, woozy from the fever. He remained silent, astonished and unblinking, his mind slow at registering her words. The innocent vulnerability she portrayed, the glazed, sensuous look in her eyes, and the rosy blush coloring her cheeks - he wanted to kiss her senseless. Fortunately, his willpower was stronger than to succumb to lust.
"M-must be the fever talking…" he stuttered, dazed, standing up and retreating into the kitchen. "What she needs… is her medicine..." Raising a hand to ruffle his hair nervously, it took moments for him to recollect his nerves and quell his fluttering heart before he remembered why he left the living room in the first place. Once he retrieved the medicine and cup of water, Baralai hurriedly jogged back to her side. Upon hearing the sound of miniscule objects rolling inside a bottle, she opened her weary eyelids and carefully sat upright to see Baralai kneeled down right next to her, uncapping a small container.
"What's that?" she asked suspiciously.
"Medicine. To help fight your fever." Tilting the container downwards, he shook it lightly for two oval pills to roll out onto his palm. Next, he held it out for her to take. "Here. You can drink it with water."
A frown marred her flushed cheeks, eyeing the pills with utter disdain. "I don't like medicine."
"It's supposed to make you feel better," he reassured, but she shook her head vigorously.
"No. I can get better without it."
"True, but it will take a lot longer for you to recover," Baralai pressed, impatience grating on his nerves. This is no time to act like a child. In retaliation, the feverish girl crossed her arms and stubbornly turned her face the other way. He scowled darkly, frustrated. That's it! "If that's how you're going to be…" Popping the pills into his mouth, he snatched the glass of water vehemently and poured it into his mouth (without drinking it). After placing the cup back down, he cupped her face in both of his hands to firmly lock lips with her. The gasp she elicited from surprise gave him the opening he needed to deposit the medicine and water into her mouth. She was coerced to swallow while fisting her hands angrily in his shirt, trying to shove him away, but the fever had sapped most of her strength. Besides, he was much too strong for her.
After Yuna took one last gulp, Baralai detached himself from her and wiped his lips. "There." He sighed, smug of his accomplishment. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" He froze, whip lashed with surprise and disbelief. Goodness, I just kissed her. The revelation made him want to smack himself over the head. But it was for the betterment of her health. Yuna coughed and wheezed for air. She stared off into space, flustered, a hand idly covering her mouth. For some reason, she couldn't focus. The strain from having to drink that medicine, and… the moist softness of his lips… If that's what it took for him to kiss me, then by God, be angry whenever you want. She was too dazed to even voice that out loud.
Perturbed by her unusual silence, Baralai sat down beside her and called her name. Instead of replying, she lifted her eyes to his for a brief moment, and then lowered them to his lips. I want… to kiss him again. Compelled by this desire, she leaned forward, but was stopped when he suddenly laid a hand on her cheek, having already guessed her intention. Baralai restrained both her and himself from closing the distance, no matter how much he wanted to.
Dismayed of the rejection, she opened her eyes, glazed with hurt. "Is this a dream?"
"Hm?" In response to his confusion, she smiled a dejected smile, next lowering her head to lay on his shoulder. She slowly flexed her hand out on his chest and curiously traced his muscles, fascinated.
"You feel real…" His face grew warm, on account of the pleasure he felt from her affection. This feels too good, he thought, closing his eyes, submitting under her touch for a single moment. The regret and self-blame he felt, and his past carelessness, his failure to carry out his responsibility, it disgusted him. If only he had been more keen of Gippal's actions, if only. Granted, Baralai believed Gippal wouldn't harass Yuna out of respect for his best friend, but now he regretted putting such blind trust into him. What's worse, Yuna followed his example. He felt undeserving of their loving relationship for having failed to protect her from something he should've seen coming. When Baralai was about to reach his limit, he grabbed her hand to halt her. "…stop." The slim wrist clasped within his hand, his thumb rubbing over cream skin; it served as his solitary solace.
Saddened by his reproach, she whispered, "You don't love me?" Speechless with guilt, he chose not to reply. Disappointed she did not receive a response from him, Yuna pulled away slightly and gazed straight into his eyes. "Will you… will you still be here? When I wake up?"
"…yes." His voice, a light tremble of uncertainty.
"You won't disappear, will you?"
"No, I won't."
"I want… to forget our fight. I want to forget… all the bad things. I want you and me… happy… together." She sighed; sleep beginning to dominate the corners of her mind.
"I feel the same," he automatically said, this honest sentiment nestled deep inside his heart. There was no denying it. It's like their separate train of thought rode on the same track.
"I'm glad…" she murmured, her breathing becoming slow, steady, and relaxed. Baralai watched fondly the way her eyelids drooped shut and, touching her cheek, gently laid her down on the couch to rest. "…will you… brush my hair…?" A slow smile slipped onto her lips due to his silent compliance. She enjoyed the feel of his fingers stroking her tendrils of chestnut brown hair. After prolonged moments of deliberation, Baralai stood up and, snatching a folded blanket on the other end of the couch, swept it out over her body and tenderly tucked her in.
"Sweet dreams," he whispered, pecking her forehead.
Believing Baralai was no longer angry at her, especially himself, she confessed. "……I love you." Soft, simple, and sincere.
This once, Baralai didn't hesitate. "I love you, too."
Alas, she did not hear him. She had fallen asleep, oblivious to his confession.
(A/N): The second chapter seemed harder to write, maybe because of the content. Anyway, I added two songs for the sake of originality, I Hate This Part by Pussycat Dolls and Hot 'N Cold by Katy Perry respectively. I hope you weren't annoyed by that. I spared you from writing the entire lyrics, cuz I know how you feel. lol
Review, please. :)