3 - If You Ever Come Back

I seriously don't know what to think, more so, to feel. I'm angry that he didn't even tell me. Hurt that he didn't tell me still. And worried that something must have gone wrong back home that he had to ditch everything here and go there as soon as he could. 

"I love you more, Cristina. Don't ever forget that."

"I'm sorry. I love you, babe. But, I have to do this. I'm sorry." 

What did those mean? Was he really planning on leaving me all along? Was that why he was crying the other night? Was that what was troubling him?

I run out of the kitchen, almost bumping into Angie who is on her way in, and up the stairs to Mark's room. I immediately go to his closet, most of his clothes are still there. I look around the room and his laptop, the picture of his family by the bed, his skateboard...everything, they're still in their place. 

I take my phone out, planning on calling my dad to at least just check on him. But, I stop. I can't let him know that I'm having troubles here. He'd definitely flip and take me back as soon as he has the chance. 

Trey. I quickly dial her number. As I'm waiting for her to answer, I sit on Mark's bed and notice a paper under his pillow. I pull it out and see my name written on top of it. Before I can open, Trey finally answers. 

"A...Are ... you...Are you back yet?" I stammer as I open the letter with one hand. Even without reading, my tears already start flowing. 

"Hey, Cris. I'll be there in .... Shit...Are you crying?" She must've heard the sniffles. 

"Yes." I yell. "I so fuckin' am. Now, tell me what's going on." 

"Calm down, Cristina. Did you talk to him? What did he tell you?" 

"I can't fuckin' calm down. He left, Trey. Ok?" I sob, still yelling. "He left for LA and he didn't even tell me."

"Fuck." I hear footsteps running on her end. "Just stay where you are. I'll be there in less than two hours."

When she hangs up, I go through the letter. 

'My one and only Cristina. My baby. My rascal. My brat.

I'm so sorry I have to leave like this. I feel so bad making you angry and cry even before I left. I didn't mean to hurt you in anyway. As I've said, I'm lost. I don't know what to do. When you walked out on me the other night, I wanted to kill myself. I promised myself I won't ever make you cry, but, I guess I broke that. 

I have to leave. There are things back home I have to take care of. I can't tell you what yet. I hope I would have the chance to, soon. I know you're flipping out and worried. Don't be. I'm fine. I won't be able to call you nor message you though. Please understand. 

I don't know how or when, babe, but I will come back for you. Whatever it takes, I will come and get you. You trust me, right? 

I love you, baby. I love you more than words can say. I'm gonna miss you though. Promise me you'll wait for me.

Your Twain.'

I can't stop my tears from flowing in streams as I read it again and again. I hold onto it as I lay on his bed, crying. 

"Cristina." Someone is shaking my shoulder and I painstakingly open my puffy red eyes. Junior is sitting on the bed beside me, looking really worried. "Somebody's here to see you."

I get up slowly, the letter still in my hand. 

"It's your friend." He adds, carefully helping me up. 

I try to stand but he holds me down. 

"Are you ok?" He asks. 

I shake my head. 

"You wanna talk about it?" 

I shake my head again. "Not yet." I tell him. I know he's just concerned, but I don't think I can talk to him about it without ending up in a crying mess. I get up slowly and walk out the door. 

Trey is at the foot of the steps when I get down. She immediately pulls me in her arms and I cry again. "Let's go to my place," she is saying as she walks me out the house and into the car. I didn't even know she had one - but that's not important right now, is it? 

My tears are still flowing out, but silently, when we get to Trey's apartment. I lay on the couch in her small living room as she prepares something for us to drink. 

"Here," she hands me a glass of juice but I just shake my head. 

"I want something stronger." I tell her, wiping my cheeks and sitting up, pulling my legs up together on the sofa. 

"Hey." She sits beside me. "You don't seriously want to get drunk this early, do you?"

"I don't care," I lean my head back, "just get me something."

She sighs and gets up only to head to the kitchen. I hear clinking of glasses and when she comes back, she has a half a bottle of vodka and some drinking glasses. She sets it on the table and I quickly pour some on one glass. 

"Since when did you start drinking like this, Cris?" She asks, furrowing her brows at me as she comes back beside me. "You were never one to drink off your problems."

I glare at her after taking my first shot. "Do you really have to ask?" Actually, I've noticed that, too. Ever since I came to Korea and all the things happened with Mark, Lara, Sean, and my dad's firm, I've turned to alcohol each and every time. 

She just watches me as I take two more shots. I turn to her then, feeling a bit more myself. "So, what do you know? Why did he leave?"

"What did he tell you?" He asks me back. 

"Would I ask you if he told me anything?" I scoff. "Damn it. Do you have to keep secrets from me, too, Trey? Can't you just be a friend and tell me?" I furrow my brows. "Where have you been anyway?"

"Cris, look." She takes my hands, "I am being a friend. Now," she sighs, "what did he say in his letter?"

I hand it to her. Just by looking at the piece of paper my heart clenches in pain again and I start sobbing. I try to drown it with another drink, but that does so little to help. 

"See," she finally says. I think I heard her sniffle. "He loves you. He wants you to wait. Is that hard to do?"

"Wow." I clap my hands sarcastically. "Thank you Trey. Thank you so much for being a FRIEND and not telling me anything." I get up and turn to her. "Just because I'm not paying you anymore that you don't want to share with me any information? Is that it?" I raise an eyebrow, my blood boiling in rage. "Cause if it is, then you shouldn't be calling yourself a friend. You're just pretending to be one. You're not any different from Lara." I'm shouting now. "What do you want from me, huh? Money? You wanna take over the firm, too?" I can't control my mouth from spitting those words. "Well, you know what, Trey? Fuck you." I give her the finger. 

I take the bottle of vodka and head out the door. 

"Cris," she grabs my arm, stopping me from exiting. "I am not anywhere near Lara." She looks hurt...angry. "Do not even compare me to her."

"Whatever," I fling her hand away but she grabs me again. 

"You don't get it, do you?" She sneers.

"Get what?" I growl back. "That everybody wants me out of the loop? Is that it?"

"You don't understand." She turns me by my shoulders. "We're doing this for you."

I let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Oh, c'mon. Don't give me that crap, Trey. You know me too well to think I'd fall for that." I remove her hands on me and turn to my heels, tipping the bottle in my mouth. "You know what?" I turn to her again, "Forget it. Let's just pretend that we're really close and we don't have any problems between us. So," I make a little bow, "I'll see you when I see you." 

"Cris!" She yells. She's about to follow me to the elevator, but her phone rings. I turn around just to see her going back to her apartment, her phone on her ear. 

I want to hit something, but there are two other people in the elevator, looking at me strangely then at the bottle in my hand. 

I grin at them, putting up the vodka and tipping it again in my mouth. 

I walk back to the house. But, as I'm standing in front I decide I don't want to go in just yet. I continue walking, past the company, past other buildings. I finally find myself seated at a bar. The vodka bottle already empty and I'm ordering another shot. 

How long would you have me wait, Mark?

______

"Hey, drunkard!" 

"Uhm...." I stir and reach down for anything to cover me since I'm feeling really cold. Instead I touch cold hands. I open one eye and see Jackson looking down at me, pinching his nose. Maybe feeling disgusted at the stench coming out of my mouth. I open both eyes and realize I'm in my room. 

How did I get here? The last thing I remember I was drinking at a bar. FUCK!

"What?" I ask him, closing my eyes again and hugging Mr. Puffy tighter. 

"Aren't you hungry?" He asks, plopping down my bed, making it bounce and I feel like throwing up. 

"Go away," I blindly swing my arms from side to side, hoping to hit him. Unfortunately, I don't. 

"C'mon." He bounces up and down the bed and my head starts spinning around. 

"God damn it!" I yell, sitting up. "Leave or I'll throw up at you!"

"Woah," he quickly stands up, stepping away from the bed with his hands up in front of him. "You need to get up, drunkard. Training today, remember?"

"I can't." I cry out, laying back on the bed, holding my head to steady it. "Tell Juho I'm sick."

"Are you sick?" He comes back beside me, putting a hand on my forehead.

I swat it away. "Are you stupid?" Is he thinking straight? Doesn't he see that I have a terrible hangover here? 

"Hangover?" He asks. 

WOW. If I didn't have a banging headache I would've pummeled him to death already. 

"Ok." He fixes my blanket for me. "I'll stay with you."

"What?" I can't help but turn my face to him, furrowing my brows in disbelief. 

"Mark told me to take care of you. So... "

His name brings forgotten tears in my eyes and I start bawling. 

"Holy shit!" He looks shocked. He's standing again, looking down at me like he doesn't even want to come near me. "Stop crying." He pokes my shoulder. 

But, I can't. How can I if I don't even know what he's going through or if he'll even come back. 

"Hey." He pokes me again. "Cris." He sighs. Then he sits back on the bed, hesitant to put a hand on my shoulder and rub my arm. "C'mon. He'll come back, ok?" His tone is a bit worried now. 

"When?" I sob, but a little softer now. "You think he's ok?"

"He is," he smiles down at me. "Don't worry about him. He can handle anything. Just trust him, ok?"

"Do you know why he left?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "But, it must be really important." He wiggles his brows. 

Of course it is important. I roll my eyes at him. 

"Hey," he pokes my cheek again. "I was trying to make you laugh, ok?"

"Well, it's not working," I scoff, covering my face with the pillow. "Now, go. Leave me alone. I seriously feel like puking."

"Oh, fuck!" He sounds disgusted and panicky at the same time. The next thing I know, he's carrying the garbage bin beside the bed. 

"I'll just leave it here, ok?" He runs out of the room. 

That made me laugh, actually. I giggle silently. The room starts rotating around me again and I couldn't control from hurling any longer. I hug the bin by the bed and let out everything I drank last night. 

But then, after that, I go back to crying. I cry until my eyes can't take it anymore and I sleep. When I open them again, tears automatically come out. 

Mark, you're coming back, right?