I remember the day that we met. Your family had just gotten here, and we were your only Puerto Rican neighbors. You didn’t talk, just stared and showed anything you wanted people to see. Stark contrast to how you act today.
Or should I say acted.
I can’t bring myself to cry even in front of all of these people’s coffins. Portraits of all the people who died on that faithful night, discovered five days too late… I heard them say everybody present had bits of their already decomposing bodies eaten. All of them, cannibalized by the responsible of this so-called “Christmas Massacre”.
All but you.
It’s weird, you know. One moment, we’re both playing video games late at night while we try not to rage to not get yelled at… And the other, I’m at your funeral. They didn’t even let me see you one last time.
I remember when you’d ramble about space facts and lost planets with stars in your eyes. I remember your face when I first talked to you, grateful that there was finally somebody like you. I remember the way you showed up for me, the way you tried getting me to listen to your playlist (and failed), the way you could ramble on and on about the things you loved and the people you hated.
I remember hating you.
Hating how much joy you had for life, hating how, despite it all, you still found a reason to push through, hating how passionate you were about everything. Maybe it was because I hated myself. How I never speak about anything that concerns me in order for others to be comfortable with my presence. How I pretend to feel nothing to be respected by my peers. How I’d rather slowly die inside to keep the friends I’ve gotten. You don’t understand how much I feel and how little I say.
But you did, and that’s what kills me.
You listened to what I had to say, how I felt, how I saw the world. You tried your best to be understanding, but ended up shutting up and simply listened on and on to my endless yap. It was the only thing I needed: somebody who lets me talk. You ended up bringing my secret to the grave, and with you goes the light in the room and my brother from another mother.
Would it be selfish to say I miss you? That I miss hearing all the shenanigans you encountered during your nightly departures to the skatepark? That I miss getting energy drinks from the local convenience store just to hide them so they didn’t get taken away by our parents? That I miss our silly conversations, our long “remember when” talks, our inside jokes, our…
I locked eyes with Yven as he walked in the room, taking me out of my reverie.
Yven. Right. I hope he’s forgotten what happened.
There’s no way he did. I sure didn’t. I didn’t forget the way he looked at me, the way he looked away when I got too close, the way his dark skin glistened in the moonlight.
The way his lips tasted. The way his touch still lingered on my skin.
I don’t know why I feel like this. There’s something I didn’t have a chance to tell you before you went out. Maybe because you left before it all went down.
I kissed Yven, Rey. No, even worse: I made out with him.
I still can’t believe it happened. I’m not sure if I regret it or if I want it to happen again. I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about it so much, why it made me feel… good? Instead of the usual emptiness I felt when anybody touched me. Unlike when I was with Betty, when I kissed her and wished it was somebody else’s lips, fell into her arms and wished somebody else would have taken me in theirs… My mind is rotten, so rotten with sin, Rey. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be forgiven.
I needed to apologize to him, to get us both forgiven somehow. I don’t think I’ll approach him now, though. Maybe later.
I say that too much and end up doing nothing.
An hour passed. Me and my family spoke to all the others who were close with the deceased; some familiar faces and other old friends I didn’t quite remember from my early childhood. I got away from the crowd and entered the bathroom. After waving the stall, I washed my hand absentmindedly until a familiar figure approached next to me.
Yven.
I stared straight at the mirror to observe his face. His left eye was staring straight at me, making my heart flutter a little.
No. This had to end. I had to talk to him.
I analyzed the room to see if nobody else was listening, and started my pitiful speech.
“Listen, Yven”, I started, “about what happened on New Year…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he answered.
“Don’t act stupid. I just… uhm…”
Stumbling upon my words, I couldn’t find a way to deny my feelings or the right way to mend our friendship. I took a deep breath and continued my idiotic apology.
“I’m so sorry. I-I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking straight and-”
“Yeah, you certainly weren’t.”
“Fuck off.”
“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t think anything of it. We all make drunken mistakes.”
“…Right.”
Oh. Of course. Bringing it up was a terrible idea. Of course he wouldn’t think anything of it. I’m the only one making this up to be something it isn’t.
My hand gripped my necklace a little tighter than before. Fidgeting with it always made me less nervous.
If I keep on like this, the necklace will certainly break.
Maybe I want it to break.
“Can we… like, you know, stay friends?”, I continued, insanely remorseful for even bringing it up.
“Of course man.” He put his hand on my shoulder, slightly startling me with the sudden physical contact. “One night won’t change our friendship forever.”
He left the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Fuck. I messed up. He is never gonna look at me the same now. I ruined everything.
I wonder what you would’ve said about this situation if you were still here, Rey. Although it doesn’t matter now. I lost everybody around me. I lost him. I lost you. I think I even lost myself. I looked at the reflection that the mirror was throwing back. This stranger that I’m looking at, that is sharing my name, my memory, my body… is it still the same me from before? Am I still the Alejandro from when we first met? From when I met Yven? From when I met Betty? From when you died?
When you died.
My hands grip the sides of the bathroom sink as I swallow my guilt.
My mind has accepted it, I think. My subconscious still thinks you’re coming to school tomorrow. That we’ll chat and play all night. That all of this is just a huge elaborated prank done for… some reason. I don’t know. I’m just trying to give myself excuses.
I’m so numb. I’m trying so hard to cry but nothing but memories are flooding in.
There are so many things I wish to tell you that I’ll just have to keep locked inside for the rest of my life. Secrets and memories only you had. That you’ll bring with you to heaven.
Hopefully that’s where you’ll go.
Because I’m unsure if that’s where I’ll go after everything that went down.
I take a deep breath and exhale my frustration and take my feet towards the exit of the reception room’s filthy bathroom.
Created: Mar 21, 2026