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berriigallerrii · 9 months

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Lovelorn: The Death In Longing

"Palumpasa" Or "A boquet of bruises" is a rare condition that has manifested in around 100-114 people over the course of history.

When a person feels unrequited love, a bruise forms on their chest. The more intense the case, the more bruises appear, which accumulate into a one, deep, flowering bruise in the middle of the chest, which causes the victim to have trouble breathing, as well as feel small pains in their chest area.

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love·lorn /ˈlʌv.lɔːrn/

adjective

unhappy because of unrequited love.

----

The cold morning air blew softly through a window. The sun had not yet risen fully, giving the room a blue hue from the open window.

"How are you, Bibi?" A hand came over hers, "Are you comfortable?"

Phoebe looked up at her mother and smiled in a comforting manner, "Yes mama, very."

Her mother smiled back at her, albeit pitifully rather than reciprocating Phoebe's own smile, "Well, tell me if there's anything you need, okay? Here, eat the grapes I've brought you."

She placed a box of grapes on Phoebe's lap and stood up.

"I'll see if they have any juice here, I know you must be sick of drinking water this whole week," Her mother said before walking out of her room.

Phoebe nodded and waved as she exited her hospital room.

She sighed, but a bout of coughing interrupted it. It was a dry sort of cough, one that left her chest aching and brought tears to her eyes from the stabbing pain it left her.

Her hand went to the collar of her linen shirt, she pulled it down slightly and grimaced at the spots of purple and blue that cluttered around one black bruise. It looked like a hole where, if one should look into it, they would find her weak heart as bruised as her chest.

Her best and longest friend, Rose, trying to comfort her when they first found out about her condition, compared it to a bouquet of hydrangeas, blooming in her chest. At the time, Phoebe found it a crazy enough comparison to laugh over.

She was at peace then.

And then the days passed and the black bruise soon formed and Rose couldn't find enough poetic words to envelop both her and Phoebe's grief into a nice little memory.

"What will happen now?" She had asked Phoebe, eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to drive away tears that haven't formed yet.

Phoebe, whose breathing was slowly worsening then, tried to control the quiver in her voice when she said, "I'm- I'll have about three months left to live, give or take."

Rose nodded, her brows furrowed and her face scrunched up, making Phoebe's face scrunch up as well. That day, they both cried until they had no tears left.

To her surprise, no one, not even her parents, dared ask her who the cause of the bruises was. Since her condition was so rare, her doctor didn't know what exact questions to ask that wouldn't make her condition worse.

But one person knew who the cause was, even though Phoebe had not once uttered the name that blackened the bruise on her chest days after they first appeared.

Not once had that person visited her since she was admitted into a private room from the hospital.

She thought to herself that it might be for the best that he didn't.

Her mother came into the room with an orange juice box, from the condensation around it, it was cold. A lifetime ago, her mother would have told her to stop being picky and drink room-temperature juice without complaining, which Phoebe always disliked having to do. The taste of the juice felt dull when warm. She thought of the same thing with fruit or desserts.

But here she was with a cold juice box and Phoebe is slightly stunned at how much grief can change people.

"What's wrong, Bibi? You haven't touched your grapes," Her mother asked, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting beside her bed, "I'm sorry they're not cold, you know how long traffic gets."

She shook her head, "I'm fine, thank you for the grapes."

Phoebe opened the box of purple grapes, which still had droplets of water from the humidity. She popped one into her mouth and marveled at its sweetness. They were in season at the moment, which would explain the taste, but from the box's design, Phoebe realized her mother brought her the expensive type of grapes.

The last time she ate such expensive grapes was when her friend's mother brought back a bunch of fruit back in the summer from a mall that sold food from other countries. She and Rose feasted on the countless fruits on their friend's dinner table as he watched in amusement.

"You should tell your mom to keep going to that store," Rose had said, picking the leaves off of a strawberry, "These are so sweet! I feel like I'm eating flowers!"

He raised his eyebrows and grinned, "I'll be sure to tell her."

Phoebe couldn't help but think the grapes looked a lot like her bruises.

"They're delicious," She said to her mother.

Her mother beamed, the sight of it easing the heaviness in her chest a little.

She ate more grapes as her mother took her dirty laundry and put them in a cloth bag she brought. From her duffel bag, she took out another cloth bag and placed it on the foot of her bed.

"Here's some new clothes, I also brought you some books from home," She put the books on her lap, "I didn't know which one you wanted so i just bought as much as I could carry with me."

"Don't worry about it," She said, giving her mother a thankful smile. She had gotten sick of reading the same three books for two weeks, which made her grateful for her mother's efforts.

Her mother caressed her face, "Take care Bibi, I have to go to work now. But if you start feeling worse, remember to tell the doctor, okay? Your dad and I will come for you quickly."

"Yes, yes, I know," Phoebe said amusingly.

"I'm just reminding you," Her mother kissed her temple, "I love you, Bibi, more than anyone."

Phoebe took care not to mumble when she responded, "I love you too, mama."

Her mother kissed her temple again and once more, Phoebe was alone.

----

"Bi, your dad wanted me to bring this with me, he said he'll come by tomorrow in the morning," Rose said, handing Phoebe a tupperware container with apple slices and a small yogurt.

"Thanks," Phoebe said, opening up the container and taking an apple slice in hand and biting into it, its crispness delighting her.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" Rose asked, lifting a plastic bag with more plastic containers in it, "If not, I got some leftovers from Christmas."

"I haven't, you arrived before they gave me dinner today," Phoebe said. Rose opened up the bag and put one of the containers on her lap and handed her a spoon.

Rose sighed, "Thank God I rushed here, it's been so long since we had our weekly dinners, Noche Buena without you was extremely lonely."

The bruises had appeared in late October. They were very light at the time, but her family thought it was Hemophilia B, so they rushed her to the hospital. At the time, the doctors assured them that nothing was wrong and that they would look into it more.

When she started to have difficulty breathing at the end of October, her doctor suggested that it could be "Palumpasa", or a disease that brought bruises in the chest which were caused by unrequited feelings repressed for too long. What's more, there was no known cure.

She laughed back then, assuring her parents that a disease caused by those symptoms wasn't a matter to be dealt with so seriously.

Then the last two months happened. Not a lot of her life has changed, she was never one to go out much except for her and Rose's weekly dinners, but it had disconnected her from her loved ones in a way only the slow march of death could do.

Suddenly, every moment spent with her was treated with so much caution. Every visit brought with it a prayer or a moment to recall fond memories and relay long messages of how loved she is and how dearly missed she will be.

Words regarding her departure were not to be uttered in front of her. She became a china doll with flowers on her chest, and three months before she was to be broken by said flowers.

Rose was the exception among these visits, she always was. She and Phoebe's parents visited her the most, but Rose's visits didn't require her to be careful with her attitude. She didn't have to act solemn and in acceptance of her fate.

Phoebe smiled softly and ate a spoonful of the rice and swallowed, "How have you been lately?"

"Same old, you know? I've just been writing and sleeping a lot, it's all I have the energy to do these days anyway," She replied, "I would think of going to the mall but then I would think, "It'd be better if Bi was here" and I just wouldn't go. It's been driving my parents mad!"

"You don't have to let me hold you back, I don't want you getting depressed," Phoebe told her, "Go out! Have fun!"

Rose chuckled, "It's not that I'm holding myself back, I just want to spend as much time with you right now before... you know."

"I know, but I don't want you being held back even when I'm gone," She said, sighing, "Would you do it if I said it made me happy?"

Rose scoffed, "I wouldn't, 'cause I know going out with me is what makes you happiest so I would know you're lying."

She giggled, "Guilty as charged, your honor."

"Besides, I'm happy right now 'cause I'm by your side," Rose said, smiling.

"How corny, I thought you're supposed to be a good writer?" Phoebe asked, earning her a playful hit from her friend.

If the bruise on her chest was truly a crater that showed her heart, it would start shining from the brightness being with Rose brought on. One of the many things she would miss after January, it would be her friend's laughter and cheesy writing.

"I'm serious, Bi, I want to spend all my time with you, if I didn't then why the hell would I even bother going through the hellish commute here."

She found herself slightly lamenting over not listening to her friend's long philosophical essays and romantic poems fully in the past. Phoebe never usually regretted anything during someone's visits.

But Rose, of course, was always an exception.

Her chest throbbed and she brought her hand to clutch at her shirt.

She handed the food container to Rose and bent over herself, she breathed, no, she gasped in as much air as she could.

Rose's voice rang beside her but she couldn't comprehend it.

Spots of black clouded her vision and the coughing started.

----

Phoebe was absolutely fond of the cold, she loved ice cream and halo-halo, she asked for her drinks to have ice in them all the time. She asked her mother if they could turn the air conditioner all the way up every night so she could bundle up in the cold air.

She hated the summer, it made her sweat, which would ruin her dresses and make her smell bad. The sun nipped at her skin and she swore the heat of the air could bake her if she stayed outside long enough.

One summer, for one reason or another, she met a boy with a cool disposition and even colder eyes.

He was the son of her mother's friend, and he was going to go to the same high school as she was.

Their mothers had pushed them towards each other, doing the introductions for them.

"This is my daughter, Phoebe!" Her mother said cheerfully, "Say hi to your tita!"

She muttered a quiet "Hello" and kept her eyes on some invisible distance.

"This is my son, Lucas. Say hello, Lucas," Her mother's friend urged the boy, who waved at her mother and her.

Such was their forgettable meeting under the summer sun. Neither sparks of romance or rivalry flew about. The boy didn't run through Phoebe's mind the day after, nor did any of his features strike her as significantly memorable.

When school started, they didn't see much of each other unless they passed by one another in the halls or if their mothers decided to visit each other's houses, which were a short jeep ride away from each other.

They spent the New Year together, in Lucas' house.

When they went into their second year of high school, Phoebe found herself separated from Rose and in her classroom, the only one she knew was Lucas.

And so their friendship started. He helped her with English and she helped him with Math. They often chose each other as partners when the class was assigned a project. When one of them was sick, the other would offer to share notes with the other. He became a reliable classmate and family friend.

She got to know him more as the months passed by, they were both alike in that he adored the cold. He grew up in Canada until he was nine, then he and his mom moved back to the Philippines when his dad died. He often sought out air-conditioned places and loved frozen desserts more than anything. Despite his cold exterior, he was really only someone looking to fit into his new school much like she was.

They both loved reading, both big fans of the classics. Their favorite weekly activity was choosing a book for each other from the school library and talking about it. They both fell in love with "Noli Me Tangere" by José Rizal. When they had to act out a scene from the book with their chosen partner, they naturally went for the azotea scene between Maria Clara and Ibarra.

Of course, the fact that Maria Clara and Ibarra were a couple wasn't a big deal to either of them. Despite the playful teasing they received from their classmates, Phoebe couldn't see anything in him but a friend, albeit, one she mostly spent time with in school.

One rainy day in December, Phoebe had forgotten her umbrella at home. She was usually out of the school the moment the bell rang, but that day, she stood at the entrance, hoping for the rain to soon fade.

"Phoebe? You're still here?" Lucas' voice rang from behind her.

She turned and sighed, "I forgot my umbrella, so I'm waiting for the rain to peter out."

He raised his eyebrows, "Oh, well, do you want to share an umbrella with me instead? I can just walk you home."

"If that's okay with you," Phoebe muttered.

They walked carefully under the umbrella. At times, they would have to press against the other to avoid puddles.

When a truck drove by, he maneuvered himself to block the muddy water it splashed in their direction with both his body and the umbrella, her head cradled in his chest for a short moment.

He apologized and soon after they reached her home and he dropped her off.

Maybe it was then that she started thinking about him in matters outside of school, lamenting the coming Christmas break, and wishing she was close enough to him so she could visit him without reason,

Phoebe started looking forward to the days her mother's visits to her friend. It was then that she and Lucas could talk for hours about nothing while their mothers did the same. She pushed him to read romance books and refused to explain the sudden switch from recommending Frankenstein to Pride and Prejudice.

He complied with her wishes anyway and read whatever new romance book caught her fancy. She used these reading sessions to observe him more while they were on break. While they both read, she would peek over from her book and gaze at his serious expression as he read her chosen book. Sometimes she would find herself unable to focus on the action in whatever chapter she was reading because watching him interested her more.

The furrow of his eyebrows, the slope of his neck, the way his tapered fingers would turn the pages, everything about his actions had her looking at him with rapture she had never experienced before.

Sometimes his mother would bring in a bowl of chips or fruit while they read before going back to talking with her mother and she would revel in excitement for a split-second whenever their hands would brush. It drove her just a little crazy that he seemed to think nothing of it. It was one of the few moments she hated the air conditioner that kept him from heating up the way she did inside when it happened.

All of this, Phoebe kept to herself. She thought of it like a secret form of happiness to indulge in. When Rose asked her if anything happened recently during their weekly dinners together, Phoebe would tell her about the most recent book she and Lucas were reading. She kept to herself the way she pored over the pages incessantly, finding traces of the boy who gave it to her and made her feel like she could know the deepest depths of him through ink on paper alone.

When school began again, she waited for him at the school entrance and was delighted when he didn't question why she waited for him. He didn't walk her all the way home, but she took quiet pleasure in their small talk before they separated ways. They talked of teachers, then classmates, then of anything and of nothing.

She wished she lived closer to him.

When rain came a few days later, she kept to herself that she had brought her umbrella with her. She waited by the entrance and like the last time it rained, they walked under the umbrella. They laughed and joked about the books they've been reading as the downpour fizzled out. Even when the rain had faded and the sun shone through small gaps in the clouds, Phoebe kept herself close to him.

Lucas didn't mind, nor did he question it. She took his acceptance as a sign that he had grown comfortable with her. That comfort grew between them until they graduated high school.

Phoebe was content, she didn't want a change in their relationship. She was content with their books and rainy days. Even the summers were tolerable as long as they were together.

When she was kept separate from Rose and Lucas by college, she wondered for a bit if her contentment was the best move for her.

During her first year in college, she re-read Pride and Prejudice and sighed as she reached Mr. Darcy's first proposal scene. She knew she was no Elizabeth Bennet, going after who she wanted without any care that they could be making a mistake, she was more like Jane Bennet and Maria Clara.

Just waiting.

----

When Phoebe opened her eyes, something was strapped to her face. The stark lights were blurry and she kept blinking, hoping they would clear up soon.

Her neck felt sore, and the plastic dome on her face dug uncomfortable into her skin. She turned her neck and found a man sitting by her bed.

"Phoebe, you're awake?" He said, getting up.

The sound of her name from his lips no longer made her heart feel warm, it only sent a painful throb to her chest, which made her breath hitch.

"Luc..." She called out weakly. He held her hand and squeezed it in reassurance.

"Don't worry, you're okay. Your parents are getting food right now and Rose is on her way," He said, eyes averted.

She nodded her head, her eyes boring into his face. She had not seen him since she first got her diagnosis. He had cut his hair and had a slight stubble forming. She couldn't see it, but she could feel the cold metal of a ring on his finger pressing onto her hand.

For a moment, she loathes the cold more than anything.

"Luc," She said more clearly, "Why are you here?"

His brows furrowed, "Do you want me to leave?"

Panic set in her empty chest and Phoebe shook her head, "No, no, don't. I'll be okay."

He sat down and took his hand off of hers. The air cooled the warmth he left on her and she shuddered. She couldn't identify the expression he wore on his face and it filled her with frustration that she used to know exactly how he felt at first glance.

They had grown more distant in the last six years, but they still celebrated Christmas and New Years together. But Phoebe could no longer look at him the way she wanted to when he and another girl were looking at each other with so much fondness between them.

She wasn't allowed to, and she was fine with it.

But the seed that had been planted into her heart on that rainy day had now blossomed into something that bruised and suffocated her, and she didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she wanted to blame him or herself for something neither of them could control.

Phoebe couldn't blame him for cutting himself off from her life when he first heard of her diagnosis, hoping it would help when it didn't.

She couldn't blame him, she didn't want to blame him.

"I'm so sorry, Phoebe," He muttered, his voice strained, "I don't- I still can't feel what you-"

"No, Luc, don't..." Phoebe breathed deeply, "Don't be sorry, it's not your fault."

"But because of me, you're going to..." His sobs interrupted him, "I don't want to lose you."

She let him sob over her. Phoebe once imagined countless times of him crying over her, but she never once thought her imaginations would manifest into this. Her chest was filled with only pain, and she couldn't risk crying with him for fear of the condition it would put her in.

"I didn't want to lose you, either," She whispered, smiling, "It's really my fault that I... I didn't say anything at first."

He shook his head at her words but he had to know it was true.

"If not for these bruises, I would still feel the same..." Phoebe said, letting a tear fall from her eye, "Nothing would change, I just..."

"I wish I could save you," Lucas said, wiping his tears, "You know? I wish I could stop all of this."

"I wish you could, but I'm so sick of wishing for something you can't give me," She muttered, "If only I was given a chance to stop and go on longer, maybe I would've found someone I didn't need to wish for."

He held her hand once more, rubbing his thumb over her skin. Phoebe sighed, melancholy in her lungs.

"I don't regret it, you know?" She told him, "I don't regret giving you my time, reading books with you, walking home with you. I truly don't regret it one bit."

Lucas gave her hand a squeeze, the ring digging into her skin, "Even if it's killing you?"

"I would rather it killed me than say I hated you for what I'm going through," She smiled, a cough escaping her.

"I'm sorry I left you alone, I should've... I should've stayed with you and taken care of you," He whispered, head hanging low.

Phoebe managed a weak laugh, "You're here now, aren't you? Really, I should be sorry for leaving so soon, before your wedding too."

"Will we ever stop apologizing to each other?" He said, laughing softly, "If I did something wrong enough to make you stop loving me, would it save you?"

"You wouldn't, I don't think Eliza would let you, and I don't think you would want to do something to hurt her."

At the mention of his fiancée, he smiled softly, a smile sweeter than the cool ice cream they shared in the summer heat when they were younger. Phoebe was a little amazed at just how much she adored and continued to adore this man. The man who was the cause of her death, the reason for the black bruise on her chest.

There was something comforting to Phoebe in the fact that she was one of the very few in the world who experienced a love so strong it could kill her. It bewildered her, to have found a love great enough to feel its weight and find it flowering on her skin.

It wasn't the happiest or most romantic story in the world, she doubted her younger self would want to read a story like hers. But love has decided to present itself to her in this way, she had nothing else to do but accept it.

Sad as her story is, she treasured it in the hollowness in her chest, decorated with purple and blue.

----

In March, when Lucas had called her over at three in the morning, Phoebe didn't know what to expect.

She definitely did not expect him pacing around in distress.

"Luc, what's wrong?" She asked, crossing her arms.

He looked at her, eyes crazed and red-rimmed, "I want to do it. I want to marry Eliza."

For a moment, every moment of hesitation Phoebe ever experienced when it came to Lucas flashed through her mind. She felt as if someone had stabbed her in the chest and stole her heart from her.

"Really?" She had asked such a stupid question too when the answer was so obvious. Eliza had stolen his heart the moment they met in college and Phoebe had seen her change him in ways she could've never imagined.

Eliza made him, of all people, look forward to summers.

He nodded, smiling wildly, "Yeah! And I called you here because I'm panicking. What if I'm moving too fast? What if-"

"Relax," Phoebe said, fighting the tightening of her throat, "If you two talked about it then it will be fine."

"What if she says no?" He asked ruffling his hair, she had never seen him so expressive.

"Just do what Mr. Darcy did in his first proposal," She joked.

"What?"

"You know, go up to her after a date, look into her eyes," She walked to him, and looked at him directly.

"Then... then say..." She coughed, her throat was threatening to choke her up, but she couldn't ruin this now.

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you..." Phoebe trailed off, pressing her lips together then averting her eyes.

She felt her tears prick her eyes and she turned away, "It's late, I need to go."

"Wait, finish your sentence," He said, grabbing her shoulder and turning her back to him.

Through the blur of her tears, she was greeted with the sight of Lucas who was just as surprised as she was.

"Phoebe? Are you-"

"You must allow me to tell you," She whispered, "How ardently I admire and love you."

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