I sprinted through the hallways as my steps stomped on the ground heavily. I quickly reached my destination as I held the handle of the paper bag in my hand firmly. My fingers rose as they tapped on numbers easily, and a small, verifying noise entered my ears. My hand grabbed the knob, twisting it before the palm pressed on the cold surface of the door, exerting force and strength as the door swung backwards.
The door slammed open, and my foot stepped in the familiar room as the door oscillated to close.
"Happy birth—"
The words flew away before I could say them. I stared at the empty space. My head spun around as my eyes traveled, scrutinizing every nook and cranny of the room.
"Calix?" I called out, bewildered by his absence.
My feet brought me to every area possibly occupied in his room. I examined every single dust in every corner, and he was not there.
Flashbacks of the past replayed in my mind as my heart began to race, anxiety restraining my pumping heart.
"Calix?" My voice echoed in my ears.
I listened to the sound of the breeze beneath the transparent glass displaying the city.
"Calix?!" I shouted, feeling distress gurgling in the pit of my heart.
I listened to the sound of a car honking loudly on the street below.
"Calix!" I yelled, growing frustrated.
I listened to the silence.
I sat on his bed, seeing the vacancy of his room. The flowers, the ingredients, his clothes, toothbrush are all gone. Only a bed, empty cabinets and containers, a bathroom of all its compulsory equipment, a kitchen of all its compulsory tools, and the oven.
I sat on the bed, feeling the cold sheets. If he left, he'd left hours ago. Yet, to think it is completely empty.. Even the clothes I owned which I left here in case I needed a spare change had vanished. My legs bounced as the heel of my feet tapped on the ground continuously, trying to pacify myself—an attempt that slightly helps, but doesn't cure. Breathing grew difficult, as my heart pulses loudly and heavily, bearing anxiety, worry, and dread. I crawled through the bed, leaning over the window.
Just in case.
He was unseen.
My fists clench as I feel panic rising. My body fidgets and squirms as I am unable to stay calm. I paced through his room, before my thoughts cleared slightly when a plausible idea formed in my head.
Let's not jump into conclusions yet. I remind myself, inhaling deeply as I try to control my unsteady breathing.
I ran across the hallway as I headed to the elevator, and exited quickly once the elevator descended to the lobby floor. I approached an unoccupied receptionist.
"Hi, hey. Uhm, do you know Calix? The person occupying room 525? Did you see them leave?" I stammered, my fingers battling as I spoke breathlessly.
Her eyebrows furrowed as bewilderment coats her face, "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I know who that is.. but room 525 has remained unoccupied since the past three years."
My heart quivered in panic and fear as my thoughts and emotions attacked me in unison, my brain malfunctioning as thinking rationally was no longer within my control. Words slip out of my mouth carelessly as my mind begins to ache. "Wh-what do you mean?" I stuttered, feeling the influence of my emotions forming a tumor in my heart as pain incessantly stabs my heart.
"It is exactly as I said. Room 525 has been empty since the past three years."
"W-who is the last person to occupy it?" I asked, feeling my throat dry with sand as a desert rests within my larynx.
"My apologies, that information is confidential." She bows lightly, and I feel my mouth drying as I step backwards, my mind running out of ideas as I continue to work my brain to think. To think of something, anything that could lead me to Calix.
"O-okay, just tell me is it—was it.. Calix?" My lips trembled as my voice cracked.
She shakes her head, as her lips pursed, "I'm sorry, no one with that name has ever stayed in our apartment."
What?
I stepped backwards, feeling all sense of rationality and logic leaving my body. My eyes were wide, my mouth agape as I mindlessly returned to Calix's room.
No. There is no way.
I had to deny it. I have to deny it. It's impossible.
I seated myself on his bed, and tapped on my phone as I stared at his contact.
He exists.
I called him.
A ring sounded. Once, twice, thrice. Once, twice, thrice. Once, twice—it ended.
My mouth was dry as a desert. My heart palpitated as a ticking-bomb. My mind overthinks with a tornado of thoughts.
I screamed loudly in vexation. My voice left a trail in the air as it left my throat for its freedom. Echoing my pains, anger, exasperation—everything I could feel. A bubble of hope burst as a thought popped in my mind as my eyes widened and I immediately went through my phone, finding the contact of one of my acquaintances in Esther's cafe before clicking on the telephone symbol. My phone rang softly, once, twice—and it connected.
Please, God.
"Hey, what's up?" A familiar, feminine voice penetrates my hearing.
"Do you know where Calix is? His room is suddenly complete empty and I—"
"Who?"
No, please. No.
"Calix," my voice cracks. "You know him, right?" I whispered.
"Sorry girl, I have no idea who that is. Who's it? Ooh, I know—your boyfriend?" she says playfully, I could see her teasing grin through her tone. I bit my tongue as I suppressed myself from screeching in her ear through the phone.
I ended the call.
I stared at the floor blankly as I felt lost. My gaze directed to the paper bag I'd left on the bedside table as I leaned forward, stretching my limb before catching the strings in my palm. I dragged it to me as my hands reached inside, carefully holding the square canvas, taking it out in display for my eyes.
I caressed the surface slowly, feeling its grit as I softly touched his face.
Calix.
My eyes absorbed the art that was Calix. My attempt in physically visualizing Calix's beauty and the meaning of his presence in my life.
He exists.
"You said you wanted to see me draw someday, didn't you?.." I whispered to his image on the canvas.
Please. You are real. I silently plead, praying he would appear and prove me right.
It isn't a delusion. None of it is a delusion.
I am not delusional.
We aren't a delusion. Right?
I sobbed, feeling tears flow through my cheeks as they dropped on the painting I held dearly.
No. No.
The pin, 0601. The oven. This painting. His contact number. Our past messages. Our pictures together.
It is real.
He is real.
He exists.
My feet moved rapidly as I sprinted through the hallways, into the elevator and returned to my room. Once I entered, I immediately searched through my room.
The sketchbook. Paper flower bouquet. Mints. Blue roses.
I exhaled in relief as my knees weakened and I dropped to the floor. All traces of his existence are here. My heart throbbed and pulsates in relief, and in grief.
So many traces of him here, yet he isn't.
A sting pierces through my eyes as the tears flow down, relinquishing all of my sorrow as I bawled and wailed endlessly for my loss of him.
He existed.
My heart thrums in pain as she cries out the lines of her elegy, in mourn of her beloved. His disappearance tore a piece of her, as my heart is unable to be complete—having lost her other half. The bond, the connection severed between us, had forcefully ripped my capability of loving as she will only ever be able to yearn to be whole once again—an impossibility without Calix.
The tears poured endlessly, drenching all that it touches. I drowned in my sadness, in my emotions, and in my pain. A vast, stormy ocean only he could save me from.
My heart palpitates as I feel suffocated, as though chains wrapped around my heart in contraction, and a billion spikes stab through my heart, pulverizing it endlessly. My stomach churns as its acids burned, and I was slowly being consumed by myself. A self that served to protect me from further harm, pain, and emotions as I'd faced the past year, and the present moment.
I realize, there is no longer warmth. Only the cold will embrace me now.
I turned my head to the window, seeing flowers sprouting in several areas of its soil.
Flowers are blooming on your birthday, Calix.
Come back, won't you?
A silent, desperate plea he never heard.
One I wailed, sobbed, and screamed—all day, night long.
The moment I stopped, weeks passed.
Leaving my room was an act I no longer bothered with. I could barely step out of my bed, keeping myself cooped inside my blanket—aching for the familiar warmth he would have provided for me. My appetite reduced, and my hygiene was questionable.
I was unable to shower in a cold temperature, only capable of settling in a scalding temperature as the warmth provided somewhat of a comfort. A reminder of Calix.
My life was cold enough without him. I didn't need any further external cold to hurt me.
I dropped out of university.
Nobody questioned. Nobody cared.
I blocked mom's number after she asked me the umpteenth time for money.
I stopped writing.
I began to draw, occasionally. I kept a bundle of paper by my bedside table, grabbing a piece and my hands working to create a man named Calix as I made sure I remembered his image, his actions, his personality—his identity, by memory.
Sadness became an inhabitant in my heart, and my life. To the extent, it did not feel as sadness would anymore. It felt—I felt numb, dull. Everything was void—so much, that everything felt meaningless.
Constantly, my eyes wandered outside the window as I imagined myself falling. Falling into Calix's arms.
I couldn't do it. Why? I regularly asked myself, yet I was always left unanswered.
Still, I nurtured his gifts well. I routinely watered the blue roses he gifted, and it remained by the window for the sun to shine upon. Every monthly anniversary, I retraced the lingering traces of his presence. I always reviewed a page of the sketchbook he presented on my birthday. I consumed a piece of the abundant mints from the paper-crafted flower bouquet he once gave me as an apology, and token of forgiveness.
All as an act of celebration, and reminder of his existence.
Seldom, anger would rise. Hatred and rage would dominate my emotions and direct towards him.
Why did he have to disappear?
Why does he have to do this to me?
He said he would stay. He promised.
It was all lies after all.
Was everything he said to me a lie?
Why did I love him? I shouldn't have.
Maybe I wouldn't feel so hurt now.
Yet, as much madness and grudge as I would bear during the moment, it is always neutralized with my cries, and tears.
Because, no matter how much I desired to, I could never bear regret for a single moment that I loved him.
Because, no matter how much I denied it, I knew—not a single promise he told me was insincere.
Because, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, he did love me, entirely.
The love he offers, gentle—caring, so much that it overwhelms my heart.
So much that, even had I known he would disappear one day, I would still love him as much as I did then, and in the deepest pit of my heart below—where darkness lurks, and all is negativity—lies in a secured box, my lingering, everlasting love for him.
A rose of love that has grown—and continues to grow, bearing children as its seeds planted around its mother, growing further, greater—as a representation of my love for Calix.
For a rose's love towards its calyx.
My gaze trailed out the window as I breathed into the thick blanket enveloping my body in warmth, as if, had I inhaled deep enough, Calix's scent would enter my senses as it used to, and comfort me as it always did.
Flowers are reaching their prime time, nearly blossoming in its ultimate, pulchritudinous form.
Don't you see, Calix?
Spring has come for you.
Spring has fallen for me.