You stand in the front row, lost in the sea of the crowd. You watch as Tricia gives her speech onstage, the spotlight and the attention of the people on her- She looks tired..

And you feel bad for it.

It's been an eventful week. Your father's fanatics throwing all kinds of disgusting and hurtful words over at her mother and their supporters. You can only hope that somehow, in the sea of this crowd of pink roses, your presence can provide her a semblance of comfort as you keep your eyes trained on her.

You know it wasn't a fair fight and they know it too. But Tricia's family didn't raise their voices against it and neither did they throw shade at those incharge of the process, even when you along with millions of other Filipinos were enraged in her mother's honor.

"Pa CPR pero nakakasigaw parin kayo ng ganyan kalakas? Kayo ha..."

It's a witty comeback for the thirst statements, but even then you can't find it in yourself to laugh. The circumstances of your... Relationship... Being an ever-present weight on your soul.

Tricia notices an attendee in the very front of the crowd, standing still since the start of the event, and not once jumping nor shouting in their place. She lowers the mic after her statement, tilting her head to meet the stanger's eyes.

Her breath hitches in her throat as she realizes that she knows those eyes like the back of her hand. Tricia's hand twitches, she resists the urge to reach out to you like she always does when you're in each other's vicinity. Underneath the mask, the cap, and the loose shirt- Tricia can still map out the shape of your face with no effort.

Her chest constricts painfully, and for the first time she wishes she was anywhere else but with her family and infront of the crowd. All she wants is to run up to you and fall into your arms.

Six years ago you met each other as your parents ran against one another.

Five years ago you became the best of friends.

Four years ago she introduced you to her family.

Three years ago you got into a fight with your father's stupid recounts.

Two years ago you were there when she took her oath as a doctor.

One year ago you spent your first night over at her house.

Seven months ago the two of you cheered for her mother when she filed her candidacy.

Six months ago you kissed on the rooftop of her hospital on a picnic blanket.

Five months ago you got together with smiles and hushed declarations of love.

Four months ago you were able to go out on dates in public despite the fact that she's very well known to the masses.

Three months ago you celebrated your relationship with her family.

Two months ago you included their victory in your prayers.

A month ago family found out.

Earlier today you told your mother you're going out on a trip with Karla.

Now you and Tricia are eye to eye with broken hearts.

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Tricia's eyes brim with tears she's fighting desperately to keep from falling, and despite the fact that you're surrounded with thousands of other people- All she can clearly see is you.

She wants nothing more than to be beside you as her mind fills with thoughts of how you never were this far apart when meeting eye to eye. You always had a smile on your face when coming face to face with her. You never had unshed tears when you thought of each other.

Tricia wishes so badly for the two of you to be able to go somewhere that only the two of you exists. You could be at peace there, you could love freely there- The two of you could be happy there.

She barely registers Jillian walking up beside her and speaking into a microphone, a part of her mind reminds her that it's her cue to step back into the back of the stage so she moves on autopilot.

You tear your eyes off of her when she walks away, keeping your head down and telling yourself that you can't cry.

Not here, not now. Not when she isn't there to wipe your tears away anymore.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you wipe at your eyes before pulling it out to check for the notification.

1 Message from Four Eyes.

With shaky hands, blurry eyes, and a fearful heart you open the text.

"Meet me backstage??"

You look up to meet hopeful eyes. You can see what she wants to say in them, and resolve steels within your heart as you check the clock on your phone.

9:31 PM.

Fuck curfews, Karla would cover for you anyway. You type your message out at lightning speed.

"I miss you too.."

You hit send. Tricia knows you'll be there at the end of the program.

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