@Shezka

an eighteen-year-old writing prompts and skits and stories to share her ideas and fantasies with the world 🥂✨

[ahopelessromantika]

"Why did you do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"This." He gestures at the carnage in front of them. "This. The only thing these people have done is threaten my clan."

Anger swirls in her like a burst of colors, and she spins on her heel to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Why? Because you're mine. Mine, you hear?" Her bloodstained lips part into a snarl. "And no one, absolutely no one, hurts what's mine."

-ahopelessromantika-

[ahopelessromantika]

"Who's your safe place?"

He takes a swig and tilts his head backward, letting it rest on the back of his chair.

"No one."

She raises an eyebrow at that. "Why?"

"People come and go. It's best if you don't make a person your safe place."

-by ahopelessromantika-

[ahopelessromantika]

"You know, I liked you."

He tears his gaze from the screen of his phone and stares at his former classmate sitting across the table.

"I suspected," he hums, nonchalant.

The woman in front of him rests her cheek on the palm of her hand and swirls her ordered beverage with the other. A wry grin is plastered on her face.

"And you never bothered to confirm it?"

He shrugs. "You never confessed so I had no way of confirming my suspicions."

Her grin becomes wider. "Ass."

"Well," he takes a sip of his coffee, "I didn't peg you for a cowardly person who couldn't speak out her feelings. Between the both of us, you're supposed to be the expert when it comes to emotions."

"Still," her fingers drum the table, "you're an ass."

"One question. Do you still like me until now?"

A savage glint enters her eyes.

"Guess."

-by ahopelessromantika-

[ahopelessromantika]

There was something so painful with falling in love, she thought, when broken promises trailed so woefully behind her.

"You good?" A mug of coffee was shoved in her hands, steaming and hot, and she looked at it blankly, her doleful expression staring back as if to mock her. When she didn't answer, her younger brother sighed and patted her back. "It'll get better soon, you know," were her brother's comforting words, and although she wanted to deny it, she knew herself well enough that he was right.

A few weeks of socializing would help her recover.

"You do know he didn't deserve you, right?" her brother muttered spitefully. At his words, she looked at him with a raised eyebrow, a silent accusation.

"You act like you also didn't like him," she said.

"Because I didn't know he'd use you like this," her brother countered. "We didn't know he was still hung up on his ex, given how doting and affectionate he was towards you..." his voice trailed off, and he canted his head to the side in thought. "Wow. Now that I've pointed it out, he's a very good actor. How did he manage to act like he was in love with you when he was still pining for his ex-girlfriend?"

The coffee was scalding hot when she swallowed her first sip, and it burned through her throat. The bitterness that lingered in her tongue was not from the caffeine, however, but from her brother's question. It was also a query that had lurked in the depths of her mind during the first days of her heartbreak—

How does one fake love?

Because she knew— could see— that he truly did love her. The way he gazed at her, how his voice softened soothingly when she was being especially moody, the way he showed his care for her through little things and actions...

Or was that all a lie?

Maybe it wasn't his absence that was hurting her the most, but rather, the deception he had built.

"How many times has this happened already?" her brother groused beside her. Angrily, he ran his fingers through his hair before jabbing a finger at her in exasperation. "And you— why do you never learn?"

A garbled chuckle spilled from her lips at his question, and she traced the rim of her mug with her index finger.

"Because," and there was a hint of fondness in her tone, "Because there is something beautiful in finding love. It gives you something to look forward to every day—plans, dreams, a future you'd want to share with your special person. But," and her smile turned bitter, "you have to brace for the pain that comes with shattered hopes."

dedicated to those sweet but fleeting summer moments with chunnie. this is for you, although i pray you never find this. perhaps, if we'd met a bit earlier or a bit later, with neither of us having any attachments to the past, we might have worked out. as you have already cut off the last string, i write this in hopes of overcoming your absence.

-scie.

[ahopelessromantika]

I did love you,

But maybe not in the way you wanted me to;

Considering how easily you left me,

Even tho you claimed to love me.

[ahopelessromantika]

"overwrote my memories of another,

but in return gave me another trail of pain to erase."

[ahopelessromantika]

i love raw beauty—

the kind you'd see in candid pictures,

capturing every vivid moment and laugh,

whether it be pretty or ugly.

no filters; unstaged,

images I can cherish and glue on my pages;

to be forgotten in my memories but always there,

my life story never to be naked and bare.

where you can hear one's laughter,

merry and true,

perhaps roaring and unfiltered at times,

but always with mirth ringing after;

where one can see the color of emotions,

sadness, amusement, happiness, affection

all blending together,

blue, yellow and orange, red—

shimmering and dancing with each other;

where one can notice nature's smile,

the beam of the sun, the restless clouds,

the chirping birds on the trees standing so proud,

the mischievous winds rushing through the miles;

but life has been getting duller lately,

all gray, black, and white;

the world isn't as vivid as it was anymore,

or perhaps I am just losing my sight.

smoke covers the air, pollutions looms above,

the houses have turned simple, uncreative,

and I find nothing I can love—

nothing i can take pictures of.

sometimes the memories are there,

triggered by a switch, a familiar laugh, a lovely smell,

but when I whip my camera out, there's nothing there:

nothing to cherish, nothing to remember.

no images, no souvenirs to gaze upon,

I turn to words and let my thoughts run,

bleeding my protests into paper as I try,

to preserve some remnant of the past before it fully dies.

[ahopelessromantika]

the heart knows what it wants,

but what it wants does not want the heart.

-ahopelessromantika-

[ahopelessromantika]

"What are we?" she asks through her phone, warmth spreading through her as she snuggles deeper into her blanket. 2:05 a.m., her clock read. Contentedly, she closes her eyes as she waits for his reply, eager to hear his soft voice so unlike her bright and loud one.

His response is short, "Friends. Why?"

In an instant, the hazy sensation of contentment dissapates into thin air, and a chill settles in her fingertips despite her thick blanket. Her eyes, heavy with drowsiness, flutter open as a stone-cold grip takes a hold of her heart, her teeth barely managing to bite back a stunned wheeze. Then her heart drops to her stomach, and she swallows, breathing out a shaky laugh.

"Nothing, nothing," she murmurs, her tone unaffected and contrasting darkly against the hurt raging inside her chest. "Just checking."

It's been months since they had gotten acquainted with each other through their best friends who had gotten together. Ironically, on the third day of testing the waters, he had immediately drawn the line, and she had agreed to being friends only. But even with their agreement, he began to act so sweet and doting to her as the days bled into weeks, agreeing to her whims of movie nights and late night calls and indulging her in her stressed rants whenever her academics were beginning to weigh on her.

Even their best friends thought that it was progress.

That delusion has now been shattered, however; a tragic end.

"Do you have any classes tomorrow?" he questions softly and appeasingly, and she scoffs as irrational thoughts begin whirling in her head.

"I've got a date tomorrow," she says out of spite. She knows he won't care, though, because what kind of casual friend is stupid enough to meddle with their friend's relationships?

There is silence for a few seconds, then, "I'll be putting off social media for a while, by the way," he tells her quietly, a hint of something dark she cannot name tinting his words; and the hurt within her whips into rage, and she resists the urge to curse him out loud. Now? He's cutting her off now that she's grown too attached to him? Too emotionally dependent on his presence? After being with her on her bad days?

"Okay," and her tone is curt, uncaring. "Message me when you're ready to talk again."

She doesn't wait for his response; beep—! goes her phone, and she shuts it down.

They are friends alright, but considering the short time they knew each other, was it normal for a man to stay late at night talking to a girl he hadn't known that long? Was it normal for one to agree on movie dates despite not being close enough to have the privilege to? Was it normal for a man to be so concerned over a girl's health who he hadn't the slightest interest in?

Friends.

She laughs bitterly and burrows into her sheets.

"More like a fucking backburner, that's what."

Her instincts on these kinds of things have never been wrong after all.

[ahopelessromantika]

I like words more than pictures. I like words better than silent affection, as it is more assuring than guessing what a person's intentions are. I like words more than anything, and I indulge my existence in it, drowning and reveling in its madness.

Words paint more imagination than pictures; releasing my fantasies from its confines and allowing me to dream in great heights. Words, though unseen, are solid promises, despite how often they are broken. Words, depending on the person, can either be an amusing play of wits, a defensive wall, or a straightforward bullet to the heart.

Insignificant, yet powerful.

[ahopelessromantika]

Most nights, she dreams.

It isn't a big deal, just skirmishes of her imagination just like most people, but one night, she wakes up with the feeling of ghostly arms circling her form from behind, and she just jolts.

When she turns to see who is holding her, there is no one.

It escalates from there. The sensation of yearning and want for someone she doesn't know, the phantom brushes against her fingers when she is too preoccupied with work to pay attention to her surroundings, the intangible gaze she can feel at times when she is alone. Honestly, it makes her shiver.

Is she being haunted?

But then the days and nights begin to bleed together, until she finds herself being approached by a man with an expensive coat, neat slacks, and a smile that holds practiced warmth.

Her body is lying on the street in a pool of blood, people screaming their panic. A bus is parked in front of her fallen form.

Dead. She is dead.

"Not a surprise," the man answers her unspoken thought, and she zeroes on him like a lost lamb, her bottom lip quivering at her realization. His hands, cold from the lack of life, cradle her face affectionately, a manic gleam in his depthless pupils.

A choked sob rises from her throat, and he hums cheerily, pulling her closer until she is hidden in his thick coat.

"Poor little doll," he murmurs, all silky and soothing, "for you to have caught my eyes. Only unlucky people get courted by Death itself."

[ahopelessromantika]

Trick or treat!

"Trick or treat!" These were the words she playfully asked him one fateful Halloween night.

He remembers the moon shining brightly on her, her eyes catching its silver gleams flawlessly. She looked every inch like an angel, the fake wings sprouting from her back enhancing that image more.

Indulgently, he smiled at her.

"If I say treat, will you give me a kiss?"

[ahopelessromantika]

I am an incoming first-year college student, and needless to say, I've been a wreck these past few weeks.

While some of my classmates are already set on their college admissions, I am still at home, waiting for the results from the two universities I've applied to. It is with a heavy heart that I say that in both universities, I am only on their waitlists. My rank isn't far off; in fact, in one university, I am at the top of their priority list. However, both universities are prestigious and picky, so my future is still undecided. It doesn't help that every day, my parents nag at me for not applying to other colleges.

Well, I did.

But then my parents kept telling me to cancel my applications because either the university was too far from home, or they simply did not like it.

However, just a few days ago, I managed to secure a slot in Fine Arts in one of the universities. But my mother immediately told me to reject the offer since the course was too impractical, or so she said.

So I did.

And just a day after I rejected it, she came up to ask me, "Do you still have the slot?"

I instantly replied no, and she told me to apply again for the same course. So I did.

Today, just this morning, I received a response from the same university, telling me that I did not manage to secure the same slot. Okay, that was alright, I supposed. After all, it wasn't entirely my decision to reject the offer.

But it wasn't alright.

It fucking wasn't.

Because after dinner, after my parents discovered that my application was rejected, they began scolding me for not studying and reviewing enough to pass at least one of the universities I had applied to. The cycle started again. Them blaming me for my failures, and me shutting their voices out and trying not to cry.

I did study. I did review before my entrance exams.

But juggling my academics at that time and my college applications was too much for me to handle— the workload was too heavy.

So now, here I am, hanging on to my last hope — the local university near us that I had applied for Architecture. Perhaps I am already hanging by a thin thread, because every so often, I would find myself staring at my wrists with the urge to slit and cut them.

Is it my fault that I am not naturally smart? My good grades come from late and sleepless nights of studying, from effort and not from pure intellect. Additionally, the courses my parents push me to pursue are not in my interests. I love art, creativity, literature, and writing; but they urge me to take courses majorly related to technology, math, and science— subjects I've never really enjoyed.

I envy students who have parents who support them in whatever they want to do. But at the same time, I can only hate myself for not being good enough to support myself.

The blame is completely on me.

[ahopelessromantika]

"If you need me, I'll be there to help you," he once told her.

Now looking at the graveyard bearing his name in front of her, she lets out a rueful smile.

"I need you. But you can't help me anymore."

-by ahopelessromantika-

[ahopelessromantika]

"You're a monster."

Her lips part into a bright grin as she pulls her battered form into an unsteady stance, leaning on her katana to support her weight. Blood spilling down her chin, she tosses her messy curls over her shoulder and tilts her chin in defiance.

"I know."

His eyes narrow as he readies his own blade. "You'll die."

In response, she gives him a gentle smile, full of affection and love, her dimple hollowing even as tears begin flowing down and a sob rips out of her throat. Her hands shake as she pulls her katana from the ground and holds it in front of her, her vision blurring.

"If it means saving you, I don't mind."

-ahopelessromantika-

[ahopelessromantika]

"Why did you do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"This." He gestures at the carnage in front of them. "This. The only thing these people have done is threaten my clan."

Anger swirls in her like a burst of colors, and she spins on her heel to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Why? Because you're mine. Mine, you hear?" Her bloodstained lips part into a snarl. "And no one, absolutely no one, hurts what's mine."

-ahopelessromantika-

[ahopelessromantika]

"If I were to fall off a cliff, would you catch me?"

"When I was the one who pushed you off? Nah."

-by ahopelessromantika-