Heaven Knows

12.5: Anna

Heaven Knows OST: ♫ Safe by West Life and Look After You by The Fray ♫

Chapter 12.5: Anna

(Dominic’s Eighth note pasted by Anna on her diary)

I will never let you fall

I’ll stand up with you forever

I’ll be there for you through it all

Even if saving you sends me to Heaven

 

I’m not giving up on you, Anna.

~D.S

 __________

Dear Diary,

Someone once told me that there’s no law in this world that if someone wants to ruin his or her day, you have to involve yourself to make it right. I was advised to walk out as fast as I can or simply shut up and ignore. (A/N: I credit this quote to Sir Bobby Lim Joseph.)

But then, I guess, even though my head’s ill—it still has a tendency of seeing things ironically to turn the other way around.

And so I found myself taking Dominic’s note with me and searching for him. I don’t know where he is. My mind surely doesn’t know. So this time, I let my heart take over… and it led me to the rooftop.

Just as usual, the place’s derelict. It’s long, vast and quiet, but with me here now, it doesn’t seem so vacated anymore. My feet brought me right at the ridge. My instincts told me to look down. And there he was, sitting on the ledge. It was once my secret spot. But then I guess he made it a habit to get what’s mine. I jumped right in and I sat beside him. He doesn’t turn so I guess he’s expecting me.

“I knew you’d be here.” I said. I tried not to sound so ebullient. That doesn’t seem to fit in this kind of air.

I bumped his shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Okay. He’s not talking, folks.

I tried peeking at him but he refused to look at me. So I turned to the skies and pretended I was talking to them instead.

“It seems that I’m really good at making people cry. Oh, not only people—the skies cry for me, too.” I looked back at him but he seems to have no plans of ever talking back to me.

I let out a heavy breath. “So, you’re not really gonna talk to me, aren’t you?”

I am not here, folks. He’s serious in ignoring me.

I held his left hand—because left is where I sat. I felt him tensed with the touch and he glanced at me tentatively.

“Squeeze once means yes.” I said hopefully. “Squeeze twice means no.”

I took a deep breath before continuing. “Are you mad at me?”

He took a deep breath too. For a moment, I thought he’d ignore me, but then he squeezed my hand once.

So he is mad at me. I want to let go of him. But I don’t want to.

“That mad with a capital “M”?”

He squeezed my hand once and I chuckled. He turned and scowled at me. I raised our intertwined hands.

 “See, we’re communicating. I should be the taciturn in this relationship. You should be the one writing songs and not tragedies.”