Emotions

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"What?!" I just finished telling him the part where my dad slapped me.

All throughout the talk, all he ever did was interrupt me and made exaggerated remarks along the way. I'm not even halfway through because of this idiot.

"Don't be a drama queen and keep it down, you're embarrassing me."

Hiding myself from sheer embarrassment, Liam was putting me in by constantly having these overreactions to every news I give him. I slid deeper to my chair, hoping to get those dozen pairs of eyes on us, some tinted with annoyance and some evident with curiosity, divert their attention to somewhere else.

'𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺.'

"I don't know what to say." Redirecting my eyes from the people around us back to him, I was stunned at the new emotion he was wearing right now.

His face dissolved of all goofiness, eyes unfocused, staring at his coffee in hand, brows knitted, expression morphed into some sort of scowl that he rarely ever wears.

"I mean, I know what your family has been through. I'm well aware. But what he did wasn't necessary at all, Reyna. He hurt you. As far as I knew, he changed his way of things completely to protect you, didn't he? So why is he the one hurting you now? I just. I can't—" He let out a frustrated sigh, bringing his palms onto his face, wiping it down, and dragging it to through his hair, running his fingers to his blonde locks.

I'm not used to this side of him. Although I was glad and happy that he cared for me that much, that it was enough to strip him off of his usual demeanor. I didn't want him to overthink what happened. It was an accident and my dad didn't mean to do it then. The situation's complicated, and well, he lost control.

"Liam, he didn't mean it, okay? It all happened so fast. He was sorry. He didn't verbalize his feelings, but I knew he was."

"How do you know that?" he asked, still with that unusual expression plastered all over his face that's making me uncomfortable and worried.

I told him what happened after the unexpected hostility from my father, how we exchanged retorts yelling back at each other, how I walked out and was gone for a few hours or so, purposely missing out the events that happened in the park with a certain air head.

Though I didn't know the reason behind why did I leave that part behind, but I convinced myself that it was because it would prolong the conversation, another topic, another wave of questions, another version of confused Liam.

I went on and explained and told him everything that happened after I went home and again, leaving out the part where I was in an unusually devastating state worse than crying.

It was rather a peculiar feeling, a new sort of sensation of the fact that I'm leaving so many unrelated yet crucial details from my best friend. Liam could be an idiot, but this idiot has been by my side for two years, knowing almost everything little thing about me, nearly rivaling the closeness of relationship me and my brother had.

It's not the first time I've hidden something from Liam before, but it was a first time that after deciding to hide something from him, I was conflicted on not telling him at all about it later on.

I've concealed things from him, but I always let him know at a later date. But right now that wasn't the case anymore. My father's unexpected hostility, the weird event that happened in the park, the occurrence in my room when I got home from the rain. Those moments made me realize something.

There were things that are indeed out of my control, and it scares me. It scares me I might end up making the same mistake my brother did. Maybe that's why I didn't tell Liam, because it wasn't just a simple and weird event that happened. It was something personal, a long-old buried problem I've been escaping all my life ever since I lost my brother.

Back then I loved and welcomed chaos and surprises, but now it terrifies me.

I didn't want to let him know the events that were out of my control, my vulnerable state and me being all pathetic, spilling my life's problems to a total stranger.

I want to desperately hide those moments from him, to save myself from vulnerability, to spare myself from risking something I don't want to lose.

"He's an unpredictable one, isn't he?" His voice was the same, yet unrecognizable. Sarcasm and spite clear in his tone.

If I didn't know him that well, I'm sure I would have assumed his anger was directed at the obvious person who caused all this ruckus.

But it wasn't. That rage wasn't directed to my father, or to me, or to the situation. It was directed to himself.

"Liam." It surprised me of how my voice was undeniably soft, foreign even to my own ears. I was trying to calm him down, strip him off of those thoughts running through his mind, surely blaming himself for what happened when it has nothing to do with him at all.

This is one reason I didn't want to tell everything to Liam. Because every single time something like this happens, something that involved people dear to him getting hurt and he couldn't do anything about it, he blames himself.

That side of him wasn't limited to only me. He's like that to his family as well.

Of all his untamed and vigorous attitudes and personality, this one aspect of him is the only thing I can't fully grasp and handle.

"I should've come earlier and fetched you then. If I did that wouldn't have happened."

"Liam, stop that. You know very well it wasn't your fault. Quit that already."

"But I hate it, Reyna, I hate it when you're hurt and worse, I wasn't even there. And your father. Goodness your father. One moment he slaps you, the other he tells you he won't support you anymore, and then suddenly he'd give you these conditions saying you could go reach your dreams as if nothing ever happened! It's— it's" He plopped his head down on the table with a tud, arms hugging his head at a defensive stance.

I reached out to him and ran my fingers through his hair. "Hey, it's fine now. Stop beating yourself up for something you aren't in control of. You're the one who's supposed to comfort me not the other way around."

I retreated my hand when I he glanced back at me, an apologetic expression written all over his face.

"I don't know if I could still like your dad."

I sighed, "Liam, it's not a responsibility."

"But he's your dad?" he said, more like a question than a statement. Voice small, face contorting deeper, hiding his face in his arms.

"And so?"

"Just forget it, you're not helping." He begrudgingly said, voice muffled out because his head was back down to his crossed arms on the table.

I reached my arm out at him and smiled, an idea lighting up on my head. "Helping with what? Hey, helping with what?"

I poked and poked him until he got irritated and brought his composure up to my gaze. I laughed at his grumpy persona that I never get to see often. His eyebrows knitted, but his face was slowly coming back to his usual demeanor.

He was rambling, not that dorky rambling he usually does that annoys me. Right now he was the one who's annoyed. I'm seeing rare and new expressions from him at the same time and it's making me smile.

"Stop, staring at me like that and then just randomly smile. It's creeping me the hell out." He crossed his hand over his chest, acting like shivers were being sent down his spine, grimacing purposely at me.

I kicked his shins from under the table, earning a startled and pained sound from him.

"Hey!" He attempted to kick me back but bumped his knee from under table instead, rattling the contents that was laying atop. His face morphing into another pained expression.

"Don't get too cocky, Anderson. We ain't switching roles. I'm the one who's supposed to be annoyed at you, not the other way around. So quit it." I crossed my arms on my chest as I raised my eyebrows at him, the tensed air slowly dissolving out being replaced with its usual lightweight atmosphere we always had.

"Meany." I just rolled my eyes at him and let a soft smile form on my lips now that my best friend's back to normal. Well, as normal as this idiot as he could be.

"Now that you know everything. Just keep it cool. When you meet him by any chance, just treat him the way you used to. You don't have to like him, just tolerate him alright?"

He let out a heavy breath, face forming into a resistant expression, but just nodded at my words ominously.

"Was that all?" He asked genuinely, as he took a last sip from his coffee.

My brows knitted at his question. "What do you mean?"

"When you left the house and went out for a few hours to clear your mind. What happened then?"

The question was mixed with both curiosity and worry. Curious of where I've gone off too during those times where I was supposed to meet him, and genuine worry, about my well-being.

I was hesitant.

'𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮? 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥.'

"I mean it was raining at that time. Where did you stay?"

This boy really knows me at the back of his mind, doesn't he? Liam knew something wasn't adding up. He knew I was hiding something, yet he understood not to ponder on the topic too much.

Right now he was testing the waters if it was something I could tell him, those questions meant something else other than its literal definition: "𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘖𝘳 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?"

That tone he uses whether he suspects something was not quite right. I smiled and was extremely grateful for having someone so sensitive and considerate as him in my life.

'𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭.'

But as I was about to open my lips and tell him about the peculiar events that happened when I was away during that rainy morning, a familiar ring-tone resonated the place filling ours' and nearby strangers' ears.

We both glanced in the general direction of the said sound.

Sat there was my phone, vibrating and buzzing at the same time on the tabletop. Familiar digits that were now etched in my brain, unintentionally memorizing it, integers displayed on the lit up screen.

I could almost imagine the annoying yet familiar voice of the owner of the number, bugging me constantly, making all of our encounters weird and unusual as possible.

Liam turned his attention to me from the phone. "Someone's calling you, it's a number."

'𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵 3 𝘰'𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.'

"Oh, and by the way, speaking of numbers. Have you saved mine? I gave it to you the other day at the graduation right?"

I glanced back at him and looked into my best friend's swirling, oceanic blue eyes.

'𝘋𝘰 𝘐 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶?'

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