That morning, I woke up late. Blame Twitter for that. School is almost over, so I don't really think being late is a big deal. It isn't. So when my mom's voice comes rushing through my ears telling me about a friend calling her, I sigh. I'm tired and sleepy and I don't give a shit about anyone.
"Gian, where are you?" my best friend asks me through mom's phone.
"I'm on the way now. Is it okay to be late?"
"Yes, hurry, Gian. Take care!"
I notice the worry in her voice. Am I failing my grades or what? I swear, she's so weird right now. I decide to shrug it off and wait until I get to school.
***
"Why are you in black?" her best friend asks her, voice filled with worry and eyes filled with concern.
"Can't I wear black now?" I retort with a laugh. What's with people today anyway? "What is it?"
Much to my surprise. She runs to me and gives me a hug. "I'm sorry, Gian. I thought you knew," she says.
I am confused at 8 in the morning. What the actual shit? I gently push her away from me and ask. "Can you please tell me what's going on?"
I see tears forming in her eyes. Should I cry, too? "He left," she says and looks on the floor. "He left us, Gian. He left us without any warning. I'm so fucking sad."
By then I know. I knew it from the start. I knew it the moment he starts getting 'sick' and not going with us to see Friday gigs. I knew it the moment he stops talking to us, he stops talking to his friends and keeps himself alone. He's been having problems. I knew it, I fucking knew it and I didn't even do anything to stop him from leaving. I let him leave.
Four years. He practically dumped me.
I don't even notice tears are starting to flow out of my eyes until she gives me a hanky. I gladly accept it and we head in to our almost empty classroom, with only two or three people inside. At this moment, I couldn't care less. I am broke.
"What happened? We were just hanging out four days ago, weren't we?" I ask her, silently hoping that she'd say it's an early joke for April Fools.
She sighs. "We were. And that's what hurts the most."
My best friend goes on telling me how Zayn sent her a message about him flying to London for good. I almost want to choke. He promised me we'd go together. What a douche.
"That's it?" I laugh sarcastically. "Hun, for all I know, he could be joking or something. It's just a freaking message! Not even a phone call can prove most cases right."
I am hurt alright, but I am way too disappointed with him. He told me things I believed in. He let me hold on to those lies and false hopes he made up.
She taps my shoulder and smiles at me. "I know you more than anyone else do, Gian. And I know just how you feel about him."
I sigh. She's right.
***
I keep on thinking about him.
A month has passed and I'm still annoyed. Zayn Malik, my boy best friend for years. Who would've known he'd leave me after all those memories—much greater memories I shared with my other best friend—we both had together? He'd been telling me about his parents forcing him to live with them in London, and he all but agreed. That was the last thing he ever wanted. There was even this night when he came over crying, telling me how scared he is to think of leaving this place, his friends, and...me. He told me he'd only fly to London with me, and that is after we both graduate.
