I was back in the condo i once tried to run away from.
The same view.
The same cold air conditioning humming softly through the vents.
The same silence, only heavier now.
It's been three weeks.
Three weeks since i left Korea.
Three weeks since i broke his heart.
Three weeks since i broke mine.
I sat on the cold marble floor, knees to my chest, hugging a throw blanket that still smelled faintly like lavender and something that used to make me feel safe.
I didn't bother turning on the lights anymore.
The only thing illuminating the room was the glow of the television screen.
And there he was again.
Sebastian Blair Gutierrez.
Still him.
Still beautiful.
Still magnetic.
But he looked… different now. Colder. Sharper.
His expressions during interviews were more calculated, eyes distant even when he smiled.
The fans didn't seem to notice or maybe they chose not to.
But i did.
Because i knew the warmth behind those eyes.
I knew the softness in that voice when it wasn't being broadcasted to the world.
I knew how he laughed when he forgot the cameras.
I knew how he held my hand like it was the only truth he had in this cruel world.
And now, I was just another secret gone stale.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, eyes still glued to the screen.
They were replaying an old performance from SOLSTICE.
He was singing.
Same voice.
Same choreography.
Same perfection.
But i couldn't feel him anymore.
He wasn't mine now.
Maybe he never really was.
I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself. My fingers trembled as i pressed pause. The screen froze mid-frame, his hand stretched toward the crowd, eyes closed, completely immersed in the song.
I could still hear his voice from that night.
"Don't do this."
"Tell me the truth, Margaux."
"You said I was your peace."
I had to.
I had to hurt him so he'd let me go. So i wouldn't ruin the life he worked so hard to build.
But God, it hurt.
I closed my eyes, tears slipping out before o could stop them.
I hated this.
I hated this pain.
I hated the silence between us.
But most of all, I hated that i still loved him with every inch of me.
-
The days blurred together.
Sometimes i'd go out just to breathe.
Just to remind myself that the world still moved even after i broke.
I'd wear a cap and mask again, not because people were looking, but because i couldn't bear to be seen.
Not like this.
I ran into Mia once.
At a café in BGC.
She waved.
Smiled.
I smiled back like i was fine.
We made small talk.
She didn't ask where i'd been.
She didn't ask if i was okay and maybe that was mercy.
Because if she had, I would've crumbled right there between the smell of coffee and sugar.
Late one night, I opened my phone again.
Instagram.
@sebastianblair
Still active.
Still him.
He posted a story.
Just now.
It was a photo of the sky.
Blue. Wide. Empty.
No caption.
But i knew what that sky meant.
He used to say, "When things get too loud, I look up. It's the only place that doesn't expect anything from me."
I turned my phone face down, pressing it to my chest.
I didn't cry that night.
I just… stayed still.
-
One week later, i got a call from Mom.
"You've been silent," she said softly.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"We saw you on TV again. Old interviews. You looked happy, anak."
"I was acting," I whispered, voice cracking before k could stop it.
She was quiet for a moment. "You don't have to keep running, Margaux. You already proved yourself."
But had I?
Because if i really proved myself…
Why did i still feel like i lost?
-
The dreams came in fragments.
Sometimes it was the elevator, the first time i saw him again.
Sometimes it was the park, his hand brushing mine, our laughs blending into the city air.
But mostly, it was the night i let him go.
His eyes.
The disbelief.
The silence.
I could still hear my own voice, saying the things i didn't mean:
"You were just a phase."
"I needed entertainment."
"Don't flatter yourself, Sebastian."
He didn't say a word after that. He just stood there.
Like something inside him died.
And maybe it did.
-
One afternoon, I sat on the balcony, legs crossed, coffee untouched beside me.
The Manila skyline stretched out in front of me, chaotic and golden under the 5 PM sun.
And for the first time in weeks, I whispered aloud.
"I miss you."
It slipped past my lips like a secret too heavy to carry anymore.
"I miss you so much, I can't breathe."
But he wasn't there to hear it.
And even if he was…
He probably wouldn't believe me now.
I tried writing again.
I opened a blank document and typed his name.
Sebastian Blair Gutierrez.
Then i hit backspace.
Because how do you write about someone who became your home, and then your exile?