Coffee & Chocolate

────୨ৎ──── Stories, thoughts and late-night feelings poured like warm coffee. ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☕︎ 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆☕︎ ˖

[lustiusmag]

1 : 07 am

Someday,

your coffee will be beside mine,

your hand will find mine,

and the distance will become

a story we tell.

[lustiusmag]

Thought of the day: One day (probably in 4 years) , all the "I miss you" messages will become "I'm home."

[lustiusmag]

[lustiusmag]

7 days until the 7th of 7

Seven days left.

Until the 7th of the 7th.

Until it becomes ours again.

It feels strange how fast time moves when it’s you.

Like I blinked and went from meeting you for the first time

to already counting anniversaries.

It feels like just yesterday we were still getting to know each other—

learning each other’s voices,

laughing at things that didn’t even make sense yet,

staying up too late just because neither of us wanted to hang up.

And now it’s already here again.

Another 7 days left.

Another reminder that time doesn’t slow down, even when I wish it would.

I keep thinking about how quickly “you” became something familiar,

something I don’t have to question anymore—

just something I feel.

7 days to go,

and I’m still trying to understand how something can feel so new

and still feel like home at the same time.

Time doesn’t feel real with you. It’s like I met you yesterday, but at the same time I can’t remember what it felt like not having you in my life. Seven days feels so close and so far at the same time, like I’m already there and still waiting... ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁𑣲⋆

[lustiusmag]

[lustiusmag]

The Couch

I don't remember what songs were playing that night.

I only remember letting them fill the room.

It was late enough that the whole house had gone quiet.

I sat in the same chair I always did, my phone resting beside me while you talked.

Every now and then, I'd answer.

Most of the time, I just listened.

The television painted the room with soft light.

Across from me, there was the couch.

Dark.

Empty.

And yet, I couldn't stop looking at it.

Somewhere between one song and the next, I started imagining you there.

Your arm stretched across the backrest.

Your head tilted toward me.

Listening to the same music, even if only through my phone.

You were hundreds of miles away.

But for a while...

My mind forgot.

It filled the empty space with you so naturally that it almost felt wrong to remember the truth.

I still think about that night sometimes.

Not because of the playlist.

Not because of the hour.

But because it was the first time an empty couch ever felt occupied.

And somehow,

that was enough.

Enough to make me believe you were there.

Enough to keep me warm,

even though the room was cold.

I think of you in every song, I might be addicted to you. ‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊ ♫ ˚⊹

[lustiusmag]

[lustiusmag]

3:33 a.m.

him asleep.

me awake.

music on.

him on my mind.

[lustiusmag]

The First Mocha

For most of my life, I drank coffee because it was there.

Not because I loved it. Not because it tasted good.

I just drank it.

Then one day, he handed me a mocha.

I remember looking at it like it was some strange invention. Coffee and chocolate together? It sounded unnecessary.

He laughed and said it was the perfect combination of us.

"I'm the chocolate."

And I already knew what that meant.

Chocolate is warm. Comforting. Sweet without trying.

Then he pointed at me.

"And you're the coffee."

Strong. A little bitter sometimes. An acquired taste.

I rolled my eyes at him, of course.

But I took a sip anyway.

And maybe the drink wasn't the thing that changed.

Maybe it was the way he looked at me while waiting for my reaction.

Maybe it was hearing someone describe us as two things that shouldn't work together, yet somehow do.

Now I can't think about mocha without thinking about him.

Coffee & chocolate.

Him and me.

Coffee and chocolate were never meant to be a love story. Then he handed me a mocha. ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☕︎ 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅