2 Minutes, 23 Seconds

2' 13"

"Yes, I'm completely fine. Please, leave me alone for now." Drew hung up without saying goodbye and threw his phone across the room. He'll pick it up later, or never. Anyway, he opened the damn phone just to answer his mother's call and pretend he's holding up good. His mom already knows about the break up and she'll understand, is what he'd like to think. Thank god, it was over. He's not a good actor, and lying to his mother may have consequences but he couldn't care less.

He scrunched up his face to somehow ease his headache due to the blinding sunlight from the window, add the hangover. He rolled off the couch and landed on the carpeted floor with a loud thud, hurting his arm for a second. Shit, he cursed then hit his head on the floor as memories with Eury came haunting him with spears in hand. No matter how tight he closed his eyes, the ghosts won't leave him.

"What the hell." He stopped hitting himself when he felt hot liquid on his forehead. He opened his eyes and confirmed that it was blood when he touched the part and saw the dark spot on the carpet. It wasn't from the force of the torment he did on himself, but from shards of glass. He realized it was also why his arm hurt like hell when he fell from the couch.

He unsteadily stood up to check himself on the floor-to-ceiling mirror by the sala, only to find out that the very shards of glass that wounded him were from the huge mirror, and looking at the floor again, there were some broken bottles too.

Hungover from last night, it took him a few minutes to look around his unit and comprehend how many bottles were on the floor. There were broken beer bottles as well by his kitchen. His center table--glass too--had a huge crack in the middle. It was a miracle how it could still hold the dozen empty bottles on top of it.

He wasn't as shocked as what he's expected to be, though. Or maybe he might just be too drained to feel.

He hasn't even taken a bath since he came home from their break up. He lost all motivation to move. Of course, he went out last night to buy alcohol and a few packs of cigarette--a totally new thing for him, but to move on and fix his life? Not going to happen anytime soon.

He was cold. Literally.

He was basically living in the south pole. He turned down the temperature to the lowest setting since yesterday, probably to numb his body and keep himself from feeling the pain. It did not help much, though. It was freezing but he dared spend the whole night topless.

His hair was a mess; greatly disheveled just like his condo unit but not as messed up as his life.

What's the point of this? He often asked himself but never allowed his mind to think of an answer. He doesn't want to. Thinking about anything always ends up to Eury. It's all about her.

He went to the couch and sat there, not minding the fact that he was bleeding. His forehead, his arm and now his feet were all bleeding but no physical pain could ever amount to the pain in his chest. He continuously felt like a huge part of him was taken away and he's cut open and completely irreparable. It was like he was fed the best food in the world then skinned alive and left to die.

He felt dead. He might even just be as cold as a corpse, or probably colder. Who cares?

He picked up a pack of cigarette on the floor. Beside it were two empty packs and a few unopened ones. There was only one cigarette left inside the box he took. He placed it on his mouth and lit it with the lighter that took him minutes to find. He remembered the look the cashier gave him when he bought all those cigarette packs and alcohol. But again, who cares?

He still coughed even after emptying three packs. It's like he's always reminded of Eury and how she hated the smoke. With every stick, he felt guilt repeatedly eating him whole.

He couldn't just forget about everything and move on. Maybe this is how he's going to live his life from now on. He could get used to this.

No one can blame him for loving Eury too much, for giving too much, for choosing to be ignorant of salient reasons why they weren't like other couples. Looking back, they were more like best friends and not lovers, which hurt him all the more.

Not having any more mirrors to break, he turned to his side, stepping on broken glass again. With all the fury building up inside his shattered heart, he let his fist meet the wall and heard the crunch of possible broken bones. He punched one more time, not caring of he crushes his whole hand.

A waterfall of tears came as he slumped on the floor, helpless, bruised and bleeding.

"Good morning, baby girl."

It is indeed the sweetest way of waking up, greeted by the man she loves. Eury smiled, for he was still here when she opened her eyes. He brushed the few strands of her on her face.

"Best morning to you," she said instead.

He chuckled and changed his greeting too. "Best morning, baby girl."

"Because the best mornings of my life are mornings spent with you," she added.

"Likewise," Van said before kissing her on the lips, a soft and quick one.

They handled last night pretty well; actually he did, but Eury, not so much. He just went straight to the bathroom and let his coughing pass, telling his mind to get used to it. Eury was locked out and left to worry. It took a lot for her to not panic. She was an inch close to calling Duncan when he ceased coughing.

And when Van finally got out of the bathroom, he looked exhausted and pale.

But he still smiled at her.

She ran to him and hugged him tight and there she cried as softly as she could for it pained her to hear him suffer.

Thoughts of getting married and having a future together slowly vanished.

It was late in the morning when they woke up, Van being first and it was because he felt bruised all over his body although there were none. It might be because they were cuddled up all night. He felt weaker day by day. He checked himself in the mirror and he looked more frail and still pale.

He couldn't help but ask how much time is left for him.

He looked at Eury's sleeping form and his heart was instantly dragged to the depths of earth. What future would they have? How could they have a future in the first place?

"Duncan called a while ago while you were still asleep. He said he manage to convince Stacey to go to the hospital for proper help." Van told her over breakfast.

"That's good news, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it also means we won't be visiting her today."

"That's understandable. I really hope Duncan stays with her through all of these."

"Let's ask Ivan and Nina to come over instead. I heard they're leaving earlier than scheduled," Van suggested and she agreed.

They continued eating in silence, smiling at each other from time to time.

Drew had no appetite. How could he eat when all he could remember were meals he had with Eury and dishes he made for her?

Too much. It's too much. Although, he felt nothing and everything at the same time. He felt too empty, yet too full of painful memories. His mind is overflowing with questions of how's and why's.

He sat on the floor by the wall he just punched a hole through, and laughed. He laughed a bitter, painful and sorrowful one.

In his hand were pictures of Eury and him. They looked so happy. Now he doubts it all. What is real and what is fake? Why didn't he ask questions when it wasn't too late? Why did he fool himself?

He tore the pictures to pieces. He tore them as he wailed. He cried until his eyes were dry.