I awake with a jolt, hand over my heart - which hammers ferociously against my ribcage as I blast upright. I open my eyes to a thick darkness that clogs every sense and every pore, and my body sits tense and unsure. Amid the boom and clatter of being woken from a vivid dream, the room suddenly withers itself into an eerie silence. I look around the room in a tired haze in which everything is all too blurred and too vivid for my comprehension. I reach up and feel a moist clump of hair matted to my forehead. Sweat hums icily amongst my skin and vaguely, I can see the faint blue flicker of the TV across the room. The hairs on my arms prickle upright as if to say “You’re awake, Ana.”

            It’s in that moment that I realize I had fallen asleep on the couch once again. My fingers trace the worn, burgundy-tinted leather as my vision adjusts to the cerulean darkness. It has been weeks since I’d been able to sleep in my own bed. Late night thoughts would draw me to the couch, where I’d lay staring at the darkened ceiling until the early hours of the morning, when sleep could resist me and my muddled thoughts no longer.

            I stare mindlessly into the darkness for a few moments until an object in the obscurity begins to take shape. My eyes blur and refocus as I dimly make out the faint outline of the circle of braided ribbon upon the floor below. I recognize the bracelet and suddenly I am awake and in the present once again.

            My body rolls from the couch before I have time to think, and I frantically crawl across the scratchy carpet before scooping the bracelet into my hands. My clammy hands caress the tattered bracelet as if it will break if they are anything but gentle. My fingers carefully trace the braiding of the fraying purple and green strings; their deteriorating state due to years of constant wear. I slip the bracelet back on my right wrist, close my eyes, and immediately I can see him.

            Michael was my best friend in the entire world and beyond. He had this awkwardly long, untidy black hair that always ruffled around his face no matter how you tried to tame it. His emerald eyes had glistened thoughtfully against his dark locks, and could see through every lie I’d ever told. His face was painted with the slightest freckles that would dance across his face whenever he smile his signature crooked smile. I could always hear his voice – his soft laughter and classic sarcasm- even in the most crowded room. Michael was as kind as he was handsome, but he never seemed to be capable of seeing either for himself.

            He had given me the bracelet as a birthday present in the first grade. I could remember the exact way he’d shuffle up to me, his freckled face dusted pink, as he shakily handed me a bracelet that matched the one upon his own wrist. As simple and perhaps odd it was the bracelets were a promise that would reflect most of our ten year friendship. They were a promise to always stick together, no matter what hardships came our way. When other kids had teased and ridiculed me at school, Michael had always been there; his lanky arms wrapped around me to let me know that it was going to be okay. Whenever things got tough, I had always looked to Michael and his kind, crooked smile and instantly felt happier.

            But eventually, his smile began to chip away. In our junior year of high school, I’d began to notice a change in Michael. It started in small steps: he smiled less and looked increasingly unhappy – although he would never say why. He slowly talked to people at school less and less, drawing deeper into himself and even away from me. He sat motionless during classes, staring off into another world, as his modest grades plummeted down to unspeakable horrors. A collection of bags piled under his eyes even as he stayed home more and more, his appearances at school becoming rare and special events. Long sleeved shirts replaced the ratty band tees he’d once loved, and thoughts of college and the futures we’d dreamed about fell into the category of Things To Avoid. His bright, happy face turned cold and pale; a ghost of what it had once been. My best friend drifted aimlessly into dark waters, and the current was too strong for even me to save him.

            I remember the last day I saw him: October 19, 2014. It had been a crisp fall day; the sky a pallet of varying grays as rain floated lazily in the soft October breeze. The trees had erupted into deep shades of orange, red and brown, and fallen leaves crunched hungrily under our feet as we’d walked the path through the quiet town park. Our cheeks were flushed with the breath of chilled air and our noses were red and bright. We’d talked seamlessly as always, though as the conversation wore on, Michael’s voice answered less and less, as a distant daze settled upon his face.

            I’d tapped him lightly on the shoulder, making him jump, as I asked if he was okay. He’d turned to look at me, his emerald eyes boring into mine as a warm shiver tickled my spin. For a moment, everything was frozen, and then it happened.

            All of a sudden, he’d kissed me; a kissed tinged with sparks and butterflies all jumbled into one. The kiss had caught me off guard, rendering me face-flushed and breathless as I stared back into his blushing, tired face. His eyes burned into mine, silently asking me to say something – to admit to the butterflies that had been stirring for years when I’d thought of him.

            But there was never an answer.

            I’d stared back at Michael, motionless, as his face slowly reverted to its pale, cold state. He closed his eyes as his face took on a sad mixture of hurt, and he took a shaky deep breath, awkwardly stuffing his hands into his pocket.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a soft, trembling voice, shaking his head, “That was stupid. I shouldn’t have done that.” He smoothed his fidgeting hands over his face. “I never should have done that.”

            He looked into my eyes one last time, his own dull with assumed rejection, as he took a deep breath and awkwardly stepped away. He ducked into himself and began to walk away down the sidewalk without another word.

            As I watched him, a part of me wanted to scream, “I love you don’t be sorry”. But for whatever reason, words would not come, lying dormant in the back of my throat. My heart beat unsteadily as I watched my best friend shrink further into the distance, a pit of mix feelings boxing in my stomach.

This was how I would last see him: a sad figure disappearing into the grey distance, thinking I’d never feel the same way he’d felt for me. Perhaps, if I had known what would happen, I would have spoken up; would have thrown my arms around him like floats to keep him from sinking away. Perhaps I would have told him the truth; how I’d loved him every since he’d given me that ribbon bracelet.

But I’d already broken my promise, and he would break his.

He would disappear for good; never walking among the crunchy leaves or breathing in the crisp autumn air. There would be no more school or future to speculate about for Michael. There was just nothing.

I stare down at the bracelet on my wrist once again, and a familiar feeling finds me. My hands begin to tremble as tears burn from my eyes. They roll down my face in continuous waves; cascading down my neck and leaving watermarks on my face and shirt. My breaths break into shallow, desperate gasps as I bury my head in my arms. My body quakes in the darkness and contorts into a silent scream. I am hollow and empty; my world morphing back into nothing but a dark, lonely place.

Suddenly, the room is all too cramped. Hot air clogs my lungs and melts viciously upon my face. The darkness is dizzying and the room reverts into flashes; the glow of the television, the popcorn carpet, the couch, the bracelet. I have to get out, I tell myself. My heart pounds violently in my veins, deafening every fiber of my being. I have to get out, I have to get out.

I burst towards the nearest window, pushing the glass slide open and climbing out onto the roof. I let out a gasp as rough air whips relentlessly at my face, causing my reddened eyes to water even more. My body stiffens as I perch myself on the ledge, separating myself from the ground two stories below. I silently look down at the patchwork of cement and grass below, the chill of the night provoking me to shiver to myself as an emptiness cools inside me.

I wonder what Michael had felt in his final moments, when he’d sat like this on his own roof. Had he felt empty? Had he been afraid? I wonder what it was that had finally pushed him to the ground below – if it had been me.

I close my eyes, and Michael’s emerald eyes meet mine once again as I let my feet dangle towards the ground below.