Just realized it’s been a long while since I last posted something. Not much of writing going on lately. Hopefully, it’s not the end of the line just yet, though.
I wish it stopped the moment before the cold steel had pierced through your skin, flesh, and veins. Before your white shirt had been stained red.
Before the life had drained out of you, drop by drop.
But time is ruthless. It just keeps going and going, taking away whatever it can along the way.
Time is a thief without remorse.
And us, just a couple of victims, one gone and the other here to stay.
How horrid it is, to be left behind, by time or by you.
나 혼자서 비켜갈 수 없어
운명으로 느꼈었던 너를
The moment our eyes met for the first time, I knew I should run for dear life. I felt it so strongly as if you had screamed it right into my ear, pushing me away with all your might.
But you barely moved. A small smile played on your lips, devious and sweet. These two would go hand in hand with you. Face of an angel with tricks of a devil.
You neither pulled me closer nor pushed me away.
So I took a cautious step.
And another one.
And another.
Until there was nowhere left for me to run. And you waited, ever so patiently, for me to finally find my way to you.
And I did. Almost like destiny.
난 너의 목소리가 들려
너의 그 온기를 느껴
눈을 뜨면 니가 보여
The nights are long. Too long for my liking. Sometimes, I feel like they will never end.
Your soft voice calls for me from far away. I wake up with a start. I look around the bedroom.
It's dark and cold. The moonlight can't reach the floor. I close my eyes and think of you. The voice has faded, but I feel your skin pressed against my back. You arms wrap around me, tightly, safe and warm.
그래 난 살아갈 이유가 없어
숨을 쉴 수조차 없어
Almost too warm. It's suffocating. I can barely breathe.
The memories wash over me, like a hateful wave. It drowns me, again and again.
Your name. Your eyes. Your hands in mine. You should tear them away.
Hurry!
It's too late. We're falling. For a moment, it's soothing. I feel like we could fall forever without getting hurt.
What a joke.
You gently hit the floor. It turns red. At last, you let me go, and I keep on falling on my own.
Screams fill the void.
I can hardly breathe.
My eyes fly open. The bed is empty, the room is dark and cold.
We are snuggled up on the sofa, watching TV. You intertwine your fingers with mine, acting like it's no big deal. I smile to myself, eyes still fixed on the screen. After a while, I gently lean my head on your shoulder. You smile to yourself, eyes still fixed on the screen.
You bring my hand to your lips, eyes sparkling as you look at me. You are beautiful.
I fall asleep on your shoulder.
I am having a hard time. Sadness embraces me like an old friend. I try to stifle my sobbing, but you wake up. You don’t know what to do.
So you hold me close. You trail your calloused fingers over my back, whispering soft words of comfort into my hair.
It will be okay.
Soon, the sobs die down, and I fall asleep. You stay awake for a while longer, just in case.
In the morning, the puffy eyes are the only evidence of last night. I smile brightly as I bring a tray full of food into bed. The smell of coffee wakes you up.
You reach for it, but pull me next to you, instead.
Just five more minutes.
The food gets cold, but the bed gets warmer. Five more minutes never pass.
»Ugh,« you huff, irritated, dropping to the sofa with a can of beer in the right hand.
Joonyoung moves away, looking at you in disbelief. “You just got here and you’re already annoyed?” You can clearly hear the amusement behind his words. Asshole.
You shoot him a nasty look, leaving him without a reply as you busy yourself with the beer, downing the can in one go. You burp vigorously, and stand up to get another one.
“Ok, it’s serious. What’s wrong?” he asks, still slightly amused, and maybe even impressed.
You sit down next to him, sighing. “It’s been forever.” You start the second beer, only this time at a calm pace.
“What has?” Joonyoung seems at a loss.
“You know …” you mumble, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink. As he doesn’t say anything, you clear your throat and try again. “Since I’ve erm … Had uh … A dude.” You gulp down some more beer.
Joonyoung chuckles, relieved it’s nothing grave. Well, it sort of was, but nothing that couldn’t be mended any time soon. “So you’re lonely? You want a cuddle buddy, someone to take you out and make you feel special?” You can tell he’s mocking you slightly. “I can do that for you, no problem.” He winks, and helps himself to some dried squid. You cringe in disgust.
“I’m not that bad,” he protests, sulking.
“Sure, sure, whatever. Thanks for the offer, but that’s not what I really need right now. What I need is um …”
“Oh, for the love of god, just spit it out already.” If there’s one thing he hates, it’s beating around the bush instead of getting straight to the point.
“Sex. That’s what I need. S-E-X. Happy?” you snap, finally getting it out of your system. That felt good. And a tad embarrassing. You need more beer.
He seems taken aback for a second. You’ve never been the type to openly discuss anything that could make you blush and stutter. You weren’t opposed to listening to other people’s stories, but you never usually shared your own. So for a moment, Joonyoung’s at a loss for words.
“Let’s watch some TV,” you say quickly, when you see him opening his mouth. You find the remote and put on a random drama, pretending to be extremely interested in it. Of course, he isn’t fooled and continues with the subject you’ve just brought up.
“So … You’ve been needy lately, huh?” Even when you don’t look at him, you can clearly picture that smirk of his that predicts an evening-long roast and teasing. You’ll just have to take it. With a lot of alcohol. Your stomach’s too upset to eat, so you just keep drinking.
“Mhm.” Your eyes are fixed on the screen.
“So why don’t you just go out and take a pick?” he suggests. Apparently tonight, he’s in the counselling mood. What a relief.
“Nah. You know I can’t just hook-up with a random person.”
He rolls his eyes. “Then hook up with someone you know.”
You snort loudly, finally looking at him. “Yeah, why don’t I just send a group text to some of my buddies, and see who’s up for it.” You turn back to the screen, murmuring crazy idiot to yourself.
“I heard that, “ Joon says pointedly. “But anyways. I didn’t mean your best buddies, maybe just somebody you’ve met and liked. But hey … If the spot is open, I happily volunteer.”
At that, you spit out the beer you were just about to gulp. It comes out of your nose, as well, making you tear up and cough wildly. You run to the bathroom to get some tissues, while pulling yourself together. Joon is still on the couch, watching you. “You ok?”
You clear your throat one more time, wiping the last droplets off your face. “Yep, all good,” you croak. “Good one.” You pat him on the shoulder.
“I wasn’t kidding. You need help and I am more than willing to help you.” His tone of voice is different than usual. He actually sounds … serious. And seductive, using his deep singing voice. You turn back to him, surprised by his eyes that seem darker than before. You’ve never seen him like this, and you still aren’t sure whether he’s playing a prank on you or not.
“Like I said, I don’t want to fuck a friend.” You try to sound as blunt as possible, so he would cut it out.
He doesn’t seem convinced. “It’s much better this way. You both get something out of it, you can be comfortable and no one gets hurt afterwards. It’s like a favour between friends.”
Now you’re the one to stare at him in disbelief. “No one gets hurt? Comfortable? When has this ever worked for you? I really want to know.” You keep your eyes on him, while opening another can. By this time, you’re already buzzing. He follows your lead.
“Well, I haven’t tried it out yet, but if you think about it, it makes sense. We can both simply tell each other what we like and dislike, and enjoy a perfectly pleasurable night together. And neither will expect anything more out of it, so we can go back to being buddies. End of story.” He sounds confident in his statements. So confident, he almost has you convinced.
You don’t know what to say, and to distract yourself from his expectant gaze, you ask, “Where do you get this stuff from?”
He sighs, seeing you’re still unsure about it. “For example, there was even a movie about it. The one we saw together. With Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake.”
You search your brain for the title, the story sounding a bit familiar. “Friends with Benefits? That one?”
“Yes,” he shouts out excitedly. “That’s the one.”
“You do realize they end up falling in love with each other in the end? Not exactly what we’re going for, buddy.”
“Do they?” he wonders aloud. “Doesn’t matter, won’t happen with us. So, what do you say?”
You sigh loudly, trying your best to clear your head. The beer is really getting to you. Too much so, it seems, as you can hear yourself say, “Fine. Let’s give it a shot.”
“R-really?” Your answer takes him by surprise. He isn’t ready for it. He sits up straight, trying to appear manly. “Well. Let’s do it, then.”
You nod, staying in your place. He doesn’t move either. How do you even go about this?
You both stay still for a minute or so, then Joon finally moves closer to you. He looks at you, first your eyes, then your lips. And keeps looking at them, while he inches closer to your face. You suddenly feel a knot in your stomach. This is so weird. You’re about to kiss Joon. What the fuck?
He suddenly comes to a halt, waiting for you to close the little distance left between you two. But you are frozen in place. Maybe because it really has been a while since you’ve been with a man or simply because Joon is your friend and it makes absolutely no sense to kiss him.
“I can’t do this,” you blurt out, standing up. He leans back, visibly confused. Apparently, he was ready to go for it. “Sorry, but it’s too weird. Let me get some water. You want some?”
Before he can answer, you rush off to the kitchen, sticking your burning face into the fridge to cool down. You’ve definitely drunk too much. You take two bottle of water, and head back to the living room. Joon is back to his end of the couch, watching the telly. You hand him the bottle, observing him closely. “So we’re okay?” you check, just in case.
He’s back to his usual goofy self. “Sure, no big deal,” he laughs, motioning you to sit next to him. You do, and you spend the next hour and a half watching silly dramas. Neither of you say much, so you just keep your eyes glued to the screen. You try to push the thought of before out of your mind. It seems like a weird dream, anyways.
You don’t know when you doze off. You rest your head on Joon’s shoulder, and then stretch out on the couch, resting your head in his lap. You’ve done this many times before, so it came to you naturally. From somewhere far away, you feel his fingers stroke your hair, lulling you deeper into sleep. It feels really nice. And just before you completely drift away, you feel something soft and warm on your temple. You let out a sleepy noise, turning around so you’re faced upwards, towards Joon. You open your eyes and are startled by the proximity of his face to yours. Apparently, it was his lips you felt on your temple. The room is semi dark, and you aren’t sure whether you’re really dreaming this time. You know what’s going to happen next, but you don’t move away. He bends down, closing the distance between you two yet again, only this time he doesn’t stop until your lips lock. The kiss is gentle and soft, and somehow doesn’t feel awkward.
He moves away, scanning your face for signs of rejections. His eyes are hooded, as if in a dreamlike state. You get up, sitting down next to him. Your take your cold hands to his cheeks, pulling him back to you. The kisses turn hungrier and more desperate, and you feel the urge rise with each touch. You haven’t felt that in a while.
His hands are roaming your back and caressing the bare skin of your waist, while your fingers slip from his cheeks into his hair. Luckily, he has a lot of hair for you to play with and tug at. At one point, he grabs you by the hips, pulling you into his lap, so you’re sitting on top of him, with one knee to each side. The kisses are getting messy, with tongues intertwining and teeth clashing. You have never pictured Joon would be this good a kisser. He always gave off that lazy vibe, but right now, you can’t see any of it. His hands are now busy with your ass, and his lips leave yours, so you can catch some breath. He continues his path down your neck, leaving behind wet reddish marks. After stopping at one particularly sensitive spot, you can’t stop yourself from moaning out loud.
He pauses, lifting his head to look at you. “I like the sound of that,” he says breathily, readjusting himself under you so you are now crotch to crotch, and returns to work on your neck. Your hips grind on him automatically, as he keeps adding pressure to your butt. The soft material of your leggings gives in under the rough feeling of is jean-clothed dick rubbing against your core. His lips move to your cleavage, and you keep grinding your hips against him, creating delicious friction. Soon enough, you feel the familiar heat spread around your core, and you start moving faster. He can sense the change in you, and gets where you’re headed. One of his hands moves to your breast, fondling it intensely while his mouth is working on your other clothed breast. The heat is getting unbearable, threatening to spill over at any moment, and you keep grinding, hoping for the sweet release. When you start shaking lightly, Joon brings his mouth back to yours, teasing you with his tongue and capturing your bottom lip with his teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, and in the next few seconds, you cum. Your body is seized by a cramp, every one of your muscles clenching tightly, and you keep Joon as close to you as possible. Your moans and cries are stifled by his mouth, as he keeps kissing you, and swaying your hips lightly to help you ride out your orgasm.
As you slowly retrieve your senses, you pull away and let out a shaky sigh. God, you’ve been missing this so fucking much. Joon is watching you in pure bliss. “That was quite a sight,” he murmurs. “And I thought you’d be too shy to do anything.”
You chuckle, pulling him in for another kiss. Finally you notice the poor guy needs his release as well, as the jeans are restricting his hardness under you. Your hand slips to his crotch, stroking the bulge gently. Joon grunts in response, placing his hand over yours, making you press down harder. “You sure like to play around.”
“Just a little bit,” you say with a sly smile, pushing his hand away to undo the zipper. You pull down his jeans, immediately followed by his boxers. You discard of your own bottoms, as well, and straddle him again. You rub your wetness against his member a few times, prolonging the torture. “You like that?” you purr into his ear.
“Uh-huh.” He can’t say much, as your movements keep him in a state of agony.
You finally take mercy on him, and take his cock into your hand, leading him to your entrance. Slowly, you descend, wrapping him up in your warm juices. You both need a second to get used to the feeling, savouring the sensation of fullness, before you move. You start off slowly and with feeling, simply being in the moment and learning what he enjoys most. Your hands are resting on his shoulders for support, while he keeps his grip on your hips to help you move at his desired pace. The faster you go, the more he is losing control. His mouth falls open and his head falls back into the sofa. As you try to keep a steady pace, your legs begin to lose strength, as you start to slow down. “Oh, no, don’t stop now …” he groans, his breathing ragged and uneven. He grabs tighter onto your hips lifting them a bit, and begins thrusting his hips upwards, slamming into you at a crazy pace. Your insides begin to tingle alarmingly, your body awakening for the second time tonight, and this time with even greater intensity. Beads of sweat are trickling down Joon’s face as he keeps his pace, obviously approaching his breaking point at a great speed. You dig your nails into his shoulders as his dick brushes against your aching folds a few times, knowing neither of you will need much more. Swear words are spilling past his lips, as he buries himself into you a few more times, before slamming you down onto him, moaning and grabbing onto you for dear life. You quickly slip your finger down to your clit, pressing and circling it until the climax hits you for the second time tonight, until you collapse onto Joon, both of you equally exhausted from the whole wild ride.
He places pecks from your cheek to your lips, lingering there for a while. Finally, you get up, heading for the shower. Heaven knows you’re in desperate need of one.
“Let’s go together.” Joon is right behind you, getting rid of his shirt on the way.
“You’re a weird friend, Joon.”
Nonetheless, you let him follow you, wondering what other benefits this friendship has to offer.
You know it’s a bad idea. You can feel it with every particle in your body. You should tell him to go. You never should have let him walk you home in the first place. If you hadn’t, he wouldn’t be standing before you now, his lips mere inches away from your own. Your breaths turn short, as the heart manically pumps blood through your veins. You gulp. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. But you can’t turn away. He knows it, too, as the corners of his mouth form a slight grin. Too late to run, now.
You place your hands on his barely clothed chest. You can’t feel his heartbeat. Maybe he really has no heart, as some would say. Trash, drunk, addict, depressed. People keep finding new ways to describe the man you were about to kiss. His eyes turn dark at your touch. His gaze is burning into you, sending a shiver down your spine. You don’t know whether to be afraid or turned on. Probably both. He lifts his fingers to stroke your cheek gently, very gently. You can smell the cigarette smoke on them, and whiskey on his breath. Of course, he’s been drinking. But so have you. It doesn’t matter anymore.
Instead of pushing him away, you grab onto his black shirt, pulling him closer and closing the last few inches keeping you apart. Finally, you can feel him. You won’t be able to stop now. His lips are surprisingly soft, and they keep crashing with yours eagerly. The kiss is deep, hungry, impatient You have both been wanting this for a while. All the stolen looks, stupid fights, middle fingers in the air. The intrusive thoughts, the neediness behind them. It has all been leading to this moment, the two of you devouring each other at your doorstep. Your hands travel from his chest to his black locks, pulling on them greedily. He doesn’t take much time before he starts exploring your body, his hands lining your curves, all the way down to your ass. You moan slightly as he squeezes it. This seems to send him into a higher gear. He slams his crotch roughly into yours, so you can feel him hardening right there in the hallway of your building. You should stop, and drag him inside, but he suddenly attacks your neck, and a completely new wave of sensations washes over you. His teeth and tongue grind against the sensitive skin, veins pulsating wildly underneath. Another moan forms in your throat and you can barely find that last piece of sanity to suppress it. It just feels so damn good. He roams your skin as if it’s the only thing he will ever want to taste. His lips slowly make their way down your neck, across your collarbone, almost reaching your cleavage. At this point, you gather your senses, finally pushing him away. He stumbles, as if too drunk to stand up straight. You can’t tell whether his drunk on you or on Hennessy. You can never know with him. His lips are red and woollen, hair a tangled mess. He looks like a sin you were more than willing to commit. So you grab his hand, leading him through the front door into your apartment.
Neither of you say anything, as you stand there in the dark. The moonlight is bright enough for you to make out his silhouette. His chest is heaving as his eyes linger on your shaded form. He moistens his lips with his tongue, stepping closer. He takes your hands into his, thumbs brushing against them softly. You close your eyes, taking in his scent, his presence, his entire being. You lips have no trouble finding their way to his again. Only this time, the kiss is way gentler. You both take your time, tasting and teasing each other, tongues slowly intertwining. His fingers are in your hair, brushing it away from your face. You hook your fingers under the lower seam of his shirt, pulling it upwards with no signs of the earlier haste. You want to savour every moment of it. The fingertips are grazing against his smooth, heated skin, and you are desperate to feel it against your own. The kiss breaks as you pull the shirt over his head. As it’s dark, you can’t see clearly, but still you can make out a few tattoos covering a larger part of his upper body and arms. He’s like a work of art. You trace along the dark lines, following them with your eyes.
“Look at me,” he whispers. His lifts your chin, looking into your eyes. Without breaking the contact, he holds onto your dress, patiently dragging it upwards. You show more and more of your skin, until he finally pulls it over your head, dropping it carelessly to the floor. You are standing in front of him in panties and a bra. Then, he unzips his pants, discarding of them more quickly. “Now, it’s fair.” You can sense a chuckle behind his words.
You smile, half dismissively, half longingly. “If only that were the case.” Before he could say anything else, you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your semi naked body to his. His body is hot and willing, aligning to yours immediately. You kiss him, heat rising again. He grunts as you pull onto his hair, grinding against him at the same time. You need him whole, and you need him right now. His hands are on your back and on your ass, and you start pulling him towards the bedroom. You can barely remember how you got there, because the next thing you know, your legs hit the bed, and you fall backwards. He lands on top you, his weight caging you against the mattress. While kissing you, he automatically begins grinding back and forth, making you whine and squirm underneath.
“Oh, God,” you sigh, pleadingly, demandingly. “Don’t stop.” You feel like you will lose your mind, and he knows it. His mouth makes way down your neck again, this time reaching the cleavage. He licks the gap between your boobs, while fondling them intensely. You dig your fingers into his hair, desperate to hold onto something. He moves to the right, pushing away the fabric from your breast, his tongue quickly finding your perk nipple, swirling around it hungrily. Then, he wraps his lips around it, sucking on it while also grazing his teeth against it. You feel like you could explode, your hips shooting upwards from the pleasure. He throws you another sleek smile, sneaking his hands to your back, unhooking the bra with surprising ease. Then, his mouth travels south, while his left hand is still massaging one of your breasts. He leaves a hot trail down your stomach, over the belly button, and down to your panties. He doesn’t even take them off as he takes in a mouthful of your wet core. His tongue, lips, teeth are all over the place, making you a whining mess. Then, he moves the panties to the side, his tongue circling around your pooling entrance. He dips the tongue inside, testing the waters. Your loud reactions give him enough reasons to continue exploring your insides with his hot, long tongue. His right thumb finds your clit, circling around it gently. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you near your high with just that. He can feel your grab onto his hair getting stronger, but he doesn’t stop. Quite the opposite.
The tongue movements become more violent, and the thumb is circling the clit faster and faster. Your toes curl into the blanket as the climax hits you like a tornado, ravishing every bit of your body, every muscle clenched tightly. Your hands move to the sheets, pulling at them, as he moves his mouth away, replacing them with his index and middle finger. He pumps into you with powerful thrusts, helping you ride out your high. His intense gaze is fixed on your face. A dreamy smile plays on his lips, seeing you come undone under him, completely out of control. Your eyes are tightly shut, you mouth hanging open, gasping for air. Slowly, you are coming back to your senses. The mattress gives way under the weight of another body next to yours. He left the space between your legs to lie down next to you. He lies on his arm, watching you, still. You open your eyes, turning towards him. You lie like that for a while, watching each other in silence. His hand is back to your cheek, his thumb moving up and down, caressing you. There is something gentle and something sad in his eyes. The kind of tones you haven’t noticed before. And now you can’t stop looking.
You’re being drawn to him, inching closer by the second without even realising it. And yet again, your mouth is on his. You keep kissing him, tasting yourself in him, too. That makes you grab onto his arm, digging your nails into his soft flesh. You pull him on top of yourself and he willingly follows your lead. He’s intoxicated by your closeness and your scent. Your lips are locked into another heated make out session, and in the meantime, you wriggle yourself out of your panties, and help him get rid of his blue boxers. At last, you are both completely naked, as close as humanly possible. Your hands are roaming each other’s bodies, swollen lips clashing messily. Before you know it, he is inside you. He takes a few seconds, adjusting your walls to his size, savouring the moment. Then, he starts moving. Slowly, at first, really feeling every movement inside of you. But soon, it is not enough. He wants and needs more. His hips start snapping into you, picking up the pace. Beads of sweat are forming on his forehead, as he keeps slamming into you, relentlessly. He fills you up completely, making you lose your damn mind all over again. You hold onto him, scratching his back in helpless attempts to keep yourself together.
His elbows are on each side of your head, and his head is bent backwards in pleasure, deep grunts leaving his mouth. His eyes are shut, the entire face contorted in ecstasy. He keeps moving, burying himself deep inside, doing his best to please you both. Soon enough, you can feel him shaking slightly, as he approaches his climax. Seeing him all helpless and needy and trembling drives you towards the edge, as well. You are both loud, sweaty messes, and you can’t get enough of each other. He grabs your left leg, lifting it to his hip so he can enter you at a different angle. As he keeps up with his erratic pace, his tongue lying loosely over his bottom lip, you feel yourself coming undone. The second orgasm hits you even more strongly, making you shake and lose all strength in your body. Seeing you come undone for the second time, he picks up the pace, snapping into you, gasping, moaning, swearing. He grunts out your name before slamming into you with all his force, grabbing onto your leg for dear life. His dick is twitching inside of you, spilling itself onto your sore walls.
For a few minutes, neither of you say or do anything. You are both busy trying to catch your breath, lying helplessly next to each other on the now sticky white sheets. Without much thought, he intertwines his fingers with yours. You smile weakly, crawling into his arms, resting your head onto his bare chest. For tonight, it’s all you need.
I see it all. The streets, the trees, the sky, the people. I take the tram, driving around the city, taking in its soul. The flashy, twinkling streets change into cold and dark corners, old newspapers lying crumpled on the ground. The crowds are gone. There is a young girl, burying her face into her warm jacket, walking fast, trying not to look behind her. Every little noise makes her jump. She can’t relax until she reaches her front door. She hurries inside, and I go on. There is a stray dog, chasing shadows through the night. It is not afraid. I go on. I am reach a crowded street again. The Christmas lights look beautiful. The cold is gone. People are cheerful, without a care in the world. It’s hard to believe I’ve only passed a few junctions to get here. I run along the buildings, borrowing pieces of other people’s lives. A couple shouting at each other, throwing wedding plates against the walls. An older man slowly making his way to the toilet during the commercial break. A happy family seated around the dinner table, saying prayers. A little girl, struggling with her math homework. A man, sitting on the couch, staring into the blank television screen, cigarette in one hand, empty wine glass in the other. And I go on and on and on.
I see them all.
But they can’t see me.
I live in the reflections, the windows, the puddles, the stained glass of the St Stephen’s cathedral. I float through time and space, just on and on, watching. Seeing. I see it all. But it can’t see me. I am everywhere and I am nowhere. Past and future are merged into one infinite day that keeps repeating itself. So many lives, so many stories. I am always an observer, never a part of it.
Until the night the clock started ticking again.
It was another cold winter evening, and the shops were already closed. The streets were empty as people made their way into warmer places. A single soul was rushing along the concrete pavement, breathing heavily. Nose red, eyes teary. Was it the cold in the air or in the heart? I followed his movements with curiosity, but he passed me hurriedly, as they all do. I looked down, feeling as lonely as ever.
And then he came back.
His gaze was fixed upon my being, taking me in. He didn’t seem to know what to say, and neither was he able to move. So he just stood there.
“Hi,” he whispered uncertainly.
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I realized I haven’t spoken a single word in a very long time. Time being relative in my case.
At last, I managed a weak “Hello” in return.
He smiled. The reflection in the window did the same.
I woke up to the sound of raindrops against the window pane. I could tell, without having to open my eyes, the skies would be dull grey, painting the room dark. I left out a sleepy moan, turning around and wrapping myself tightly into the fluffy duvet. I could stay like that all day long, for all I cared. The rain sound almost lulled me back to sleep, when the coffee machine turned on in the kitchen. Even though I did my best to ignore the noise it was making, I couldn’t ignore the fresh ground coffee smell sneakily making its way to my nostrils. It was too delicious to pass up. Reluctantly, I slowly slid from under the cover, eyes still half-lidded. I somehow made my way to the kitchen, the coffee smell getting stronger.
“My love,” I mumbled, grabbing a big pot, and pouring myself a fair amount of the magic potion. Adding some milk, I finally took the first few blissful sips. It was the only way I could start my day properly. At last being able to open my eyes, I sat down by the table, gazing absent-mindedly through the window. The rain was gentle, yet persistent in its cause. The building tops seemed even gloomier than usual, and I could only thank the universe I didn’t have to leave my apartment in that weather.
I spend the day as leisurely as possible, doing some light cleaning, cooking my favourite dish, reading, hanging on the phone. It was heavenly.
The raindrops were coming down lighter and lighter with each passing hour. In the evening, they were gone. The sky got clearer, bursting with different shades of blue. I opened the windows to air the apartment for a bit, and was welcomed with the sweet after-rain smell. The city seemed to come to life below me, streets full of people putting away their umbrellas, anticipation of the night buzzing in the air.
On a whim, I decided to go out for a bit. I didn’t make plans with anybody, I just wanted to walk around and feel the vibe. I dressed comfortably, putting on some mascara and lipstick, grabbed my purse, and was out the door. I didn’t choose any specific direction, and would just go where my legs would take me. It was surprisingly relaxing going around without a destination in mind, getting lost in the crowd, taking in the atmosphere. Luckily, the summer rain left behind a warm evening, so I could take my sweet time. After a while, I got tempted by the delicious smells of the street food stalls, and stopped by one that carried all of my favourite food. I ordered a few small portions of each, along with a pint of cold beer. I savoured each moment, eating, drinking, and watching the people passing by. I haven’t been this content and relaxed in a while.
I was so caught up in my thoughts I almost missed a quiet and polite “Is this seat taken?” A tap on the shoulder later, I turned around, apologizing and hurriedly moving my bag that took up the entire seat next to mine, which was also the last unoccupied one. “Sorry,” I muttered for the last time, then awkwardly taking a sip of beer. Of course, as it happens, some of it got stuck in my throat, and I began coughing madly. My face got all sorts of red, and not only due to choking. I really dislike people staring at me. The guy that asked me about the seat patted my back a few times, trying to help me. Soon, but not soon enough, I regained my breath, soothing my throat and my embarrassment with a glass of ice water.
“Thanks,” I croaked to the guy, turning slightly towards him so I wouldn’t have to face all the other strangers at the stall.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, eyeing me hesitantly. His hand was still on my back.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit of malfunction.” I forced a laugh, shifting uncomfortably. He took the hint, pulling his hand back into his lap. He put in his order and I focused back on the remains of my meal. I finished the beer, carefully this time, while lifting my arm to order another glass. My neighbour beat me to it, putting a fresh pint in front of me.
“I thought you might want another one,” he said, smiling. It was the first time I really looked at him. And it was all I could do, look. Well, gape, to be completely honest. He had to be the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on (in real life). His smile was wide and blinding. His black wavy hair was falling freely about, and his brown eyes seemed to sparkle mischievously. Seeing my dumbfounded expression, he smiled even wider. My heart was in my already sore throat and I tried to remember where exactly I was. After another endless moment passed by, I finally regained my senses, more or less, and thanked him for the drink.
“No problem. Now I have an excuse to talk to you. I don’t like eating by myself.”
My mouth was fixed into an idiotic smile while I tried to think of a clever response. “Yeah, okay,” was the best I could come up with on the spot.
Pathetic.
“So. You’re not from around here, I presume?” he said, trying to strike up a conversation. He probably thought I was a bit slow.
“Erm, well, actually, I’ve been living in this neighbourhood for three years now. Originally, though, I’m from Europe.” The second beer was making its way into my system and I could relax again. “Are you from around here?”
He tapped his chest proudly. “Yep, born and raised.”
“Cool,” I nodded approvingly. “I grew up in a small town, which can get really boring. So I decided to move to a big city, try out a different lifestyle.”
“You’re a long way from home,” he commented, happily taking his plates full of fresh food. Mine were already emptied out. He must’ve noticed my gaze as he kindly offered to share. While chewing, he continued the conversation, “Do you like it here?”
Usually, it bugs the living daylight out of me if people talk with their mouth full, but with him, it didn’t matter. He could probably spit out the chewed up food back on the plate, and I still wouldn’t mind. Okay, too far. But you get the point.
He.
Was.
HOT.
He cast me an expectant look, waiting for me to answer his question. Honestly, I forgot what it was, as I was too busy memorizing his features and the linings of his jaw to be able to process the question. “Sorry, can you repeat that?” Yep, that’s me, the dumb-dumb.
“I wondered whether you like living here.” He didn’t seem upset by my slow responses. On the contrary, he happily ate the food, a small smile always dancing on his face.
“Mhm,” I replied, my lips mirroring his. “More and more each day.”
(Many Faces of Love) Part Three: The Morning After
Him
I've been awake for a while now, trying not to move too much so she can keep sleeping calmly, as she does right now. I think it’s the first time I get to see her like this – as genuine as a person can get. She doesn’t exaggerate her smile, trying to cheer up the others around her. The space between her brows isn’t creased with worrisome thoughts. Her breathing is shallow as she is stretched out through a more-than-fair half of the bed. Her golden locks are strewn across the pillow, and some of them tickle my arm. I dare to move, and I gently remove some of the tangled hair from her face. The sunshine is trying to break through the bright curtains and lay its warmth onto her smooth skin. Her lips are slightly apart and I can see a drop of morning saliva at the corner. I smile to myself, knowing I mustn’t mention it to her when she wakes up, or her cheeks will start burning bright red and she will try to bury her face into the pillows. I can’t let that happen. I want to look at it forever like this. The sun is getting more persistent, covering a wider patch of her skin. Soon it will reach her eyes and she will probably wake up. But maybe not. She did once mention she is a deep sleeper. Apparently, she can sleep through an earthquake, although I am not quite sure I can believe that. Perhaps I will get to see it with my own eyes, one day. My lips curve upwards at the thought. It is all so new to me. I don’t know how it’s come to this. First, she was a stranger. A funny, pretty stranger. Then, an acquaintance. And before I knew it, I wanted to see her more often. I searched for excuses to text her. I wanted to call her to hear her voice, but she doesn’t seem too comfortable with phone calls. Instead, she is an avid texter. She can tell an entire story, using only emojis. It’s actually quite amazing. She seemed to be happy to see me, to talk to me, asking me so many questions about my life, my likes, my dislikes. I guess she did care about me just a little. Before I knew it, she was on my mind the whole time. Before I went to sleep, right after I woke up. I haven’t felt anything of the kind in a long time. And then, this bubbly, wacky girl appeared in front of me out of nowhere, and swept me off my feet. It may sound tacky, like straight out of a drama, but that’s exactly how it feels. And last night, under the influence of one-too-many glasses, we ended up in bed together. Waking up together. It still feels sort of surreal to me. I just hope she doesn’t wake up disappointed.
Her
Even before I open my eyes, I can feel the warm sunshine burning into my face. My head feels heavy and my body is aching. I enjoy a moment of blissful ignorance, before I open the gate, and the recollection starts flooding every corner of my being. I was out. I was drinking. Dancing. It was so much fun. I haven’t felt this free and alive in a long time. Then, I saw him. He was smiling brightly from across the room, slowly walking towards me. It’s been a month since I last saw him, and I only then realized just how badly I had missed him. We walked over to a corner, where I gave him a long hug. “It’s been a while.” “Yeah.” Maybe we had already sensed that the night would turn out the way it did, because we were both slightly nervous, but excited. We didn’t talk much that evening. However, we drank. And danced. And drank some more. And then I think he put his hand at the low of my back. We were suddenly very, very close. My heart was in my throat, and my breathing was cut short. For the first time in my life, I experienced the feeling of time slowing down. The rest of the world disappeared, they say. It really did. Our lips didn’t touch, but we knew. He took my hand and led me through the crowd, out of the door into the warm night air. He leaned me against the wall of the house and pressed his soft lips against mine. I though my chest would explode. So many different sensations shot through me at that very moment. The rest of the night is wrapped up in a cloud of haze. I don’t want to remember it just yet. I want to let it rest and sweeten for a lonelier time. Right now, I need to open my eyes and make sure he is really here. I shiver as I feel my hand being held and lifted. Then, I feel the warmth of his lips brushing against it. I can’t stop myself from smiling blissfully. I finally open my eyes, immediately catching his look. His sparkly brown eyes make me want to forget it all and just lay like this until whenever. I just hope he feels the same way.
I saw the pictures from the airport, and he looked absolutely drained. Not a hint of a smile. No cheek dimple. No usual cheerful spirit. We barely spoke in the last week, since I was busy, and he was out of the country. He just came back and I was waiting with some wine and dinner, but now I wasn’t sure if he would come at all.
I decided to give him space and time, so I plopped myself on the couch, taking a head start on the wine. Some variety show was playing on the TV, but I couldn’t seem to focus. It pained me to see him like this. I hope it was worth it, at least, losing sleep night after night. I mean, I didn’t sleep much, but for him and his team it was just brutal.
I need to get him some vitamins or something.
With the help of the sweet fermented grape juice, I soon dozed off, with the TV still blasting in the background.
I don’t know how much time had passed before I heard the front door opening. I was still half asleep, so I didn’t react immediately. I opened one eye, trying to focus on my whereabouts. These unexpected naps are the worst.
“Hey.” It was a soft whisper, accompanied by a gentle stroke to my cheek.
I smiled sleepily, and slowly pulled myself up into a sitting position. He sat next to me, pressing his lips on mine. “Hey,” I finally replied, still smiling into the kiss.
When he pulled away and looked at me, I could finally get a good look of him. The photos didn’t show it all. The dark bags under his eyes, the irritated and pale skin, the hair dull and flat. And he seemed to have lost some weight in just a week. Oh, boy.
“I know, I look like shit,” he sighed, rubbing his face with his palms.
“Don’t do that.” I pulled his hands away, caging them between my own. “You’re hurting the skin. Tomorrow, we’ll have to do a full spa routine.”
Another sigh. “We’ve got practice first thing in the morning.” He leaned onto my shoulder, exhausted.
I took a deep breath to prevent myself from saying anything to upset him. Don’t those jerks care about their health? Probably not, as long as they keep going.
“Ok, then I’ll go get my stuff and the spoiling session can begin right now.” I got up, heading for the bathroom, only to get pulled back onto the couch. He was pouting cutely, shaking his head. “What?” I asked, annoyance at his bosses dissipating in a matter of seconds. How could he be that adorable?
“Let’s just stay here for a while,” he mumbled, burying his face into my shoulder.
“As you wish, honey boo boo.” I lied down against the back of the couch, and him, in front of me, showing me his back. Tonight, he earned the small spoon spot. Even though he was still around fifteen centimeters taller, so his ankles and feet were dangling off the edge of the couch.
He rested his head on my chest. “So comfortable,” he said with a smirk, but I could feel he was already drifting away. So I let him be. I put my arms and legs around him, like a koala, and dropped my head on the armrest. His warmth and his scent were mesmerizing, as was his shallow, even breathing. I ran my fingers through his hair, again and again. He was almost purring in his sleep. My fingers also made their way across the sensitive skin of his neckline, over the prominent collarbones, back to the neck, and to his cheek. I couldn’t help myself, pinching it lightly. At least the cheeks were still there. I bent down, planting a kiss where the dimple should be. God, have I missed him.
I wrapped my arms around his torso, pulling him even closer to me, taking in his scent. Soon enough, I was sound asleep. It was enough just having him there, in my arms. The rest could wait.
It's hard to talk about these things, so I decided to write them down. It might be difficult to explain, but I know what a relief it can be to find somebody who relates to what you’re going through. I’m not expert on this, and I’m sure it differs from person to person, but I will just put out what me and some people I know deal with on a daily basis.
It’s a rollercoaster. First and foremost. You can experience all kinds of emotions in the span of a few hours. From happiness to boredom to sadness to complete and utter desperation. Then, you feel empty. Like the last few hours never actually happened. It was someone else. One minute, I would be happily singing along to the radio in my car, and in the next I can barely drive as the tears welling up blur my vision.
The sad can come in different shapes. Sometimes, it’s a melancholic longing for something you used to have. Sometimes, you yearn for things to be different and it makes you sad and angry that you can’t change anything in that very moment. Sometimes, the sad comes in form of restlessness. This one is a really distressing one. You want to jump out of your own skin, scratch, claw, anything to escape it. And you can’t. So you have to wait for it to pass. And it does. Eventually.
At any time of day, you can suddenly feel the lump in your throat getting bigger and bigger, without any obvious reasons. And you can cry on command. When the tears dry, you’re back to “normal”. You wonder what had caused that outburst, and you simply shrug it away.
Some days are better than others. Nothing out of the ordinary. The worst thing is when, on the good days, you feel like you’ve climbed out of your misery pit, just to fall back in soon enough. And you wonder WHY?! Why does inner peace come at such high a price? Why does feeling anything close to happiness demand constant effort? You have to keep calming yourself down, bringing yourself up, finding the positives, focus on the good things in life … Why can’t these things come naturally for once?
And you can’t really talk about that with just anyone. Some won’t understand, and some won’t care all that much. You don’t want to burden the others. You even feel like you don’t deserve to feel this way. There are so many people out there who have it much worse than you do. You are healthy, you got a roof over your head, enough food and water, you have a loving family and some close friends. What is wrong with you? Why can’t that be enough?
The inner voice can be a little bitch sometimes. It makes you feel unentitled to your feelings. Maybe you’re just lazy. If you actually did something, instead of staying at home and lying around, you wouldn’t be feeling this way.
Maybe that’s true. But how can I explain the fact that from time to time I can’t get my body to move out of bed? That I wake up tired, so I urgently need a nap, and by midnight, I am exhausted. Some can barely sleep at all. I sleep too much. Some lose their appetite. I eat a lot.
Motivation eludes you. It’s hard to find anything to look forward to or a goal to work for. Nothing stimulates you enough to get going. At times, nothing makes sense and you wonder why you have to do the things that you do? Who is it for if it’s not making you happy? Then, you either tell yourself you won’t be able to do it, anyway, that you’re not good enough or you simply DO NOT WANT to do it. You fully realize finding something you’re passionate about would help you out of your black hole, and yet … You can’t find it. Or, sometimes, you don’t want to find it.
It’s a vicious circle.
And it’s scary when you don’t want to be in your own company anymore. I used to love spending time alone. Now, it’s become a prison. You make yourself go out with friends so you don’t think about the future or about how you feel. When you’re with them, everything seems normal. They don’t notice anything different. Then, you get home, and the lump is in your throat again, making you bawl your eyes out in the middle of the kitchen floor. And all you did was put away the plates from the dishwasher. You then laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. But you know something deep inside you is aching. Aching badly. And you don’t know how to heal.
Escapism to the fantasy world of books and movies can only help you so far. When you realize your own reality is nothing close to what you daydream about or see on TV and in the lines of a book, you want to scream out of helplessness. You want what you can’t have. You saw it so vividly in your head, only to later face the music and crash that illusion into pieces. It’s not real. And yet, you want it so badly. It feels like it’s the only thing that could make you feel better. Fix you. And just like that, you break your own heart all over again.
I believe that in the end, it all comes down to having something to pursue and people to love who love you back.
You just have to understand that not all people can get there at the same pace. For some of us, the road is very long and full of roots on which we trip. All that matters is that we keep going. Even if we have to rest for days at a time or crawl on painfully slowly. As long as we don’t lie down and give up, there is a mountain top for all of us.
IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT KIND OF WRITER YOU ARE YOU CAN BE WRITING: POEMS, FANFICS, IDK NORMAL FICS, NOVELS, SHORT STORIES, IDK ANYTHING!! JUST REBLOG!!!
Where does the love go? Once all is said and done, awkward smiling, shaking hands, turning backs on each other, and walking away. Where does the love go?
Does it get recycled, waiting somewhere near by to bloom again when the time is right? Or does it get torn off, fall on the floor, rot, turn to dust, and is in the end blown away with the wind? Leaving you with a tiny bit of emptiness, every time it happens.
I said we might get another chance at one indefinite time in the future. I truly believed it. I hoped for it. I just couldn’t keep my word for the present.
You said if I walked away, I would never return. And you were right. I used to be afraid of moving on, I didn’t want to let go. Of you, of our memories, of our tiny little bubble of happiness. But sooner than I would’ve cared to imagine, I didn’t need you anymore. I didn’t want you. Now, I hardly even think of you, and you used to be my future.
I believed that. But that part of me is missing. And I don’t want it back.
It makes me scared. How easily we all forget. How things change, and nothing is here to stay. People promise each other everlasting love.
In a few years, they do the same with someone else.
It makes me lose faith. My own emptiness makes me lose faith. That’s why I never dared to make promises I knew I couldn’t be sure to keep. I felt weird and too rational because of it. With you, I tried to open up. I made a few promises. I got carried away. Too far away. I couldn’t keep them. I’m sorry.
Maybe love isn’t meant to stay. Maybe it’s meant to be recycled over and over again. Or burned off whenever it gets too painful. Maybe there is nothing wrong with that.
But still to this day, I catch myself dreaming and hoping that’s not the case. That we all actually have a chance at a “once in a lifetime” moment, a foolish love at first sight, when you can tell straight away that it’s the one. And that one day, it will come to stay.
“Okay, we need … One and a quarter cup of flour. How much is that? Damn it. Johnny!”
“What?” His voice was muffled, as he was in the bathroom.
“How much is a cup?” I yelled out as loud as I could. Bloody US recipes.
“What?” he repeated.
I was beginning to run low on patience. “How. Much. Is. A. Cup. Of. Flour?!”
“Oh.” He finally walked out of the bathroom, running his hand through dripping hair, with a towel around his neck. “A cup is a cup.” He smiled and pecked me on the head, while taking a glass out of the cabinet. He turned his back on me when he poured himself some juice, so he couldn’t see my expression.
When he finally turned around, he winced ever so slightly. “Er … What?”
I smiled through gritted teeth. “Nothing. Just next time find me a recipe that doesn’t involve cups or ounces, alright?” I took my phone and googled how to convert cups into grams.
Johnny emptied his glass, burped loudly, and added, “Anyway, I would’ve thought you knew how to make chocolate chip pancakes. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Oh, if looks could kill …
I felt my nails digging deeply into my palms, leaving marks, no doubt, so I took a few deep breaths and carried on with my conversion chart without a single word. Bloody American smartasses.
When I finally worked out the measurements, I started making the batter, with Johnny hovering somewhere in the back.
“Beat me an egg, please,” I said curtly.
He chuckled, amused by my sulkiness. “I’d rather beat this,” he replied, smacking me on the ass, and then hugging me from behind. He knew exactly how to make my annoyance dissipate into thin air.
“Idiot,” I grunted, the corners of my mouth curving upwards against my will. I slid my finger into the milk-banana mixture and ran it across his nose, leaving behind a white mark. “Egg.”
He dug his nose into my shirt to wipe it, and stuck out his tongue at me. “Yes, Ma’am.”
I mixed the ingredients, and looked for the chocolate chips. I could’ve sworn I left them on my left. “Babe, have you se-“ My questions was cut short as I quickly realized where the chips have gone. Straight into Johnny’s mouth. He was leaning against the kitchen table, munching on the small chocolate drops, not even trying to hide it.
I sighed loudly, and went to snatch the bag out of his hands. “Fatass.”
One of his friends came up with that nickname for him and I made sure to use it as frequently as possible. For some reason, it always got him riled up a bit, but not too seriously.
“If I’m a fatass, then what is this?” he murmured into my ear, coming up from behind me, placing his palms on my ass again. He started massaging it, gently as first. It took everything I got to keep myself composed as this was my weak spot and he certainly knew it. When I continued with my batter business, his hands began kneading my behind more roughly, his lips hovering above my neck so his warm breath was tickling me in just the right place to make me shiver.
“Nice try,” I said, trying to sound unaffected and firm. I shook him off, and put on the pan.
“I’ll give you an A for effort,” he whispered, trying to hold back a smirk. His head was resting on my head, as he was just the right height for that, and he had his arms wrapped around me. His front was suspiciously tightly pressed against my behind, but I did my best to ignore all the tingling that this closeness was causing.
“Let’s go, my very first chocolate chip pancake!” I’m not sure who I was narrating for but I was excited. Even Johnny put his teasing on hold for a minute, and clapped enthusiastically.
“How long do I have to leave it on one side?” I asked, sticking my nose into the pan to observe the progress.
“I think’s it’s ready to turn.”
I grabbed the spatula to perform the heavy task before me, but he managed to get his hands on the pan first. “Watch how it’s done in my town,” he announced smugly, winking at me before moving the pan back and forth and then thrusting it upwards. I assumed his plan was for the pancake to turn in the air and gracefully land back in the pan. Unfortunately for him, we weren’t making crepes, so the upper side was still liquidy. The pancake stuck to the edge of the pan, all crumpled up, with some of the batter dripping onto the hot stove.
I would be upset, but I was too busy mocking my man with slow and emphasized claps. “Bravo!” I snorted, having the time of my life watching his embarrassed and confused face. Then, I quickly turned off the stove.
“So that’s how it’s done in you town, eh?”
He sighed, and put the pan onto the counter. Then, he turned to me and I could see his eyes were a shade darker. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” With every word he was closer to me. I was still grinning, but my heart unknowingly skipped a beat.
“You betcha,” I replied, trying not to be fazed by his wet hair and the naughty sparkle in his eyes. He was now very close to me. Damn it. He always gets me.
He dropped his head to my level, keeping his gaze. “You know what happens when you make fun of me like that.” Just the thought of it made me short of breath. Oh, hell, no. He wasn’t getting his again. I set out to make the bloody pancakes, and that’s exactly what I was going to do.
“Now if you’ll excuse me,” I said, pushing him out of my way, “I have to show you how it’s done in my town.” He shook his head, laughing, then let me take over.
I must say, I was doing a pretty good job, considering I only ever made crepes before. Besides, I had to deal with a very tall distraction that demanded my attention at every possible moment. He was either kissing my neck or hugging me or resting his head on my shoulders. At one point, when I turned around to reach for a cloth, he immediately pressed his lips against mine. And in that moment, the pancakes were the last thing on my mind. His tongue was pushing into my mouth, and his hands were running up and down my curves. I dug my fingers into his semi dry locks, tugging at them more and more fervently.
Johnny grabbed me by the thighs and pushed me up on the counter, locking my legs behind his back. His bulge was rubbing against my crotch, and my breath got heavier by the second. As his hands were travelling over my back, I was grabbing the edge of his T-shirt, wanting to pull it over his head. In that moment, a burning smell hit my nostrils, and I quickly pulled away.
“Shit,” I cried, jumping off the counter, grabbing the pan. What was supposed to be a pancake now resembled a block of coal. Johnny quickly closed the door and opened the window so the smell wouldn’t spread across the apartment.
Then, leaning on the doorframe, he said as sweetly as possible, “So that’s how it’s done in your town.”
I earned that one.
I rolled my eyes, and scraped the mess of a pancake into the trash. Nailed it.
“What do you say we leave this dangerous activity for later and do something fun instead?” I could almost see him wiggling his eyebrows, even though he was standing behind me. Again, pressing into my ass, showing me that little incident hadn’t affected him in the slightest.
Before I had the chance to answer, he (literally) swept me off my feet and into his arms, heading for the bedroom.
“Now let me show you how it’s really done in my town.”
I don't need to check the street below my window to know he’s there. He’s there every night. I usually pretend not to notice him and try to go about my things as per usual. At an appropriate hour, I turn off all the lights, hoping he would leave. I peek from behind the curtains every now and then, to check if he’s finally gone. I can’t fall asleep knowing he’s down there, staring at my window for hours at a time.
I jump when the phone rings. Even though it’s been ringing every night. It’s either calls or messages. I let it ring out, and only then can I breathe normally again. My heart is still pounding in my throat.
I bought thicker curtains last week. And an extra lock.
I can’t believe it’s come to this. He used to be the sweetest person. He treated me like a queen, and we had so much fun together. But after a while, his sweetness began to suffocate me. He was always around. If he couldn’t meet me, he would constantly check up on me. How are you? Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with? When will you go home?
It was driving me crazy. I tried to talk it out several times before I finally gave up and called it quits. He just wouldn’t change.
A week went by, and I was beginning to adjust to the newly single life, going out with my best friends on a Friday night. We had a great time, drinking and dancing, when suddenly I felt a shiver down my spine. I turned around and spotted him. He was standing in the corner, alone, glaring into my direction. I waved at him, smiling awkwardly, and then subtly asked my friends to go somewhere else.
However, I realized soon enough that there wasn’t a safe space in town for me to hide. He was everywhere. At the supermarket, the hairdresser’s, the movies … He showed up at my job on many occasions, lurking around the building until I was done with work. At first, I was greeting him kindly, trying to be polite. Then, over the course of few weeks, I became colder. In the end, I just pretended not to notice him, anymore. And it didn’t bother him in the slightest.
The letters started coming soon afterwards. Long, desperate letters, accompanied by all sorts of gifts. I threw them all out. He even left a photo album at my door that was full of our pictures from happier times. He even added some of the pictures of me that he took when I was walking home or when I was standing by the window, checking something on my phone.
It’s been months.
I thought I could handle it and he would give up eventually. He was just hurt a bit, but he would get over it.
Now here I am, crouching by the window, peeking outside. His usual spot is empty, and I let out a sigh of relief. I sit on the floor for a few moments, still and silent, just in case. When I’m sure the coast is clear, I get up, and head for the bedroom. There’s a knock on the door and I scream.
***
Him
I see her moving behind the curtain. She bought new ones. They make it harder to see what’s going on inside, but I can still make out her silhouette. It’s all I need.
I don’t understand how it got this way.
We were so in love. I gave her everything. I would die for her if she asked me to. But that wasn’t enough for her. She was all I ever thought about, and I made sure she knew it. This way, she could never say I didn’t love her. I couldn’t allow for any misunderstandings
But she didn’t seem as interested in me. She would only reply every few hours. She wouldn’t always tell me who she was with, and I didn’t like that very much. Whenever I could, I would sneak out of work to check up on her. I needed to see if she was safe and sound. Sometimes, she would be at lunch with work colleagues and they would laugh. A lot. She didn’t laugh like that with me, anymore.
Maybe I would need to pay more attention to her.
And that’s exactly what I did. And then she told me it was over. I couldn’t believe it. At first, I thought she was joking or was just a bit confused. So I left her alone for a week. I mean, I still waited around her work and her apartment to see what was going on with her. It bothered me a bit, that she didn’t seem too upset, considering the circumstances. So I knew I needed to meet up with her. I went to her house on Friday, hoping to catch her alone to talk. But she was on her way out with her friends. So I followed them. I waited in the corner of that noisy, smelly club just to talk to her.
She finally saw me and smiled. She hasn’t gotten over me, either! I took one step into her direction, when she turned on her heels, and walked away.
I guess I would have to be more persistent.
I’ve been trying to get her attention for months now. She’s always in a hurry or walks right past me. She must be really busy and tired. It’s okay. I can wait. I even sent her letters, trying to explain how much I love her and why we belong together. I bought her many gifts. Then I thought she might prefer something I made myself. So I put our best pictures in a photo album, and also added some of her recent ones that I took. She looked so pretty I was sure she would want to have them. I left it at her doorstep as the album was too big for the mailbox.
Texting and calling her was like second nature at this point. Sometimes I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I only kept her number in my phone so I couldn’t make a mistake. How could she not see my feelings for her?
Maybe …
Maybe, I need to tell it to her face. She will see the sincerity in my eyes, and feel the warmth of my touch. It will be like the old times again.
With that thought, I almost run to the front door and up the stairs to her apartment. My heart is pounding from the excitement. This is it! It will all go back to normal. I just have to see her.
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