Define: BITTERSWEET (Define #1) ✓

Bittersweet: The Reset

"I drive down different roads
But they all lead back to you."
- "The Very First Night," Taylor Swift

~*~

NOSTALGIA. That was what I felt upon taking the first step on where my old carpet laid. I stood frozen in front of the wooden door that I used to open and close repeatedly through the years. Suddenly, as if not time had passed, all the memories I had in this place returned to me. I felt a short snap of pain inside my head due to the overwhelming amount of surging memories coming back all at once.

From the laughter to the sobbing, from the feelings of heaven to the depths of hell, from the first smell of morning to the last bittersweet taste of coffee, it all came back. My senses could remember everything.

Still, I pushed myself. I was not here for myself but for my cousin who now lived here. I suggested this place to him when he told me he was looking for a place to stay for the meantime. Luckily, the landlord of the apartment said that this place remained unoccupied a year after I had moved to a new apartment.

With a sigh, I grasped the strings of my paper bag tightly and used my right hand to knock gently on the door. I listened carefully even if the sound from the inside would still be heard due to the immense amount of silence emanating from this place for some reason. I heard rushing and shuffling of feet from the inside. A few seconds later, my cousin opened the door and greeted me with his tired eyes blinking at me.

"You've gotten taller," was the first thing that came out of my mouth upon seeing him. I did not know what to tell him. He looked as if he had not slept for days. I knew why. I pitied him upon hearing it from him. My memories immediately took me back to when I previously saw his eyes beam with happiness, no words that were needed to be said.

He stepped aside and let me in. I walked inside. A new wave of nostalgia had hit me like a strong wind. I could immediately hear every conversation, every emotion, and every action witnessed by the walls of this apartment. I smiled bitterly as I heard my cousin close the door behind me.

"It's been a while," I thought to myself and walked towards the kitchen. I laid down on the table the paper bag I was holding. These were home-cooked meals that I cooked myself for him. My cousin never really knew how to cook. I thought it was only fitting that I cook for him.

"Iris, thanks for coming," I heard my cousin say from beside me, his raspy voice giving me chills. "You really didn't have to do this. Just you recommending a space for me for the meantime here is enough."

"Silly," I remarked as I placed tupperwares out of the bag one by one. "We're family. We promised to look after each other remember?"

He heaved an audible sigh as I heard one of the chairs screech. He sat down at one of the chairs beside me and blankly stared at the stack of tupperwares I placed on the table. I pitied him. A heart broken into pieces could be taped together with time, but a heart crushed in the form of grains of sands could not be mended. It would remain as little hurtful fragments.

I would know. My heart was like that.

"How have you been?" I questioned despite the obvious answer. I just wanted the tension between us to dissipate. One more word unsaid, I knew I would explode. Better to communicate than not.

"It's crazy," he muttered as he continued to stare blankly, this time, at the refrigerator in front of me. "I should've stayed here. I should've taken the offer you gave me years ago. I would've been there."

I remained silent and took a seat beside him. I wanted to listen to his stories. It was the first time in years that I had heard from him anyway.

"I would've been there for her," he choked as his tears started falling freely from his eyes. He wiped it immediately and forced a cold unbothered gaze on the tupperwares. He failed miserably as more tears raced down his cheeks down to the table.