Work Text:
The cool spring wind rustling between your hair strands carried a sweet scent of life. The sun with its warm rays cloaked you with a sense of security, just like your favorite blanket when you were just little. Wherever you brought your sight to, you always find lives fighting their ways to live, searching for their own places in this world that once was too harsh.
Among them, you also found life in the eyes of the man beside you. The man with molten chocolate eyes and hands as warm as a cup of tea at the end of a long day. With a voice so tender and deep you somehow drowning inside.
The man beside you caught your stare, and with a smile on his lips, he asked you,
"Is something wrong?"
You returned his dazzling smile with a grin and a squeeze on his hand then a small answer slipped between your lips.
"Nothing's wrong."
He just smiled at you even wider his whole face also smiling with him and held your hand even tighter.
Oh, how you wish the spring will never pass.
---
A person can dream, a person can hope. But it's just a futile, pointless, waste of energy wishing for something that you know would never be true.
The man who once has chocolate molten eyes, somehow over the passing time, sometimes, his eyes showed you a blazing fire. Even only sometimes, it left you with longing in your heart. Longing for the eyes to turn down the temperature and back to the warm eyes you adore so much.
But a person can only hope.
"Is something wrong?"
The same sentence but with tones entirely different it bore an entirely distinct meaning. It somehow tore your heart but you grew tired with those snaps and bites he threw at you. You grew tired of times when he didn't care, of times when he treated you like his punching bag.
But you realized that you were also tired of this relationship. The spark died down you didn't even know when because you stopped caring. You both stopped trying and let what you had dried down and withered.
With a voice so weak and tired you answered without looking at him, "Us."
You expected him to snap and throw you harsh words you knew that he would regret. You expected the worst of him. But his deep breath and heavy sigh made you stare at him. He looked exhausted. He buried his face on to his palms before he looked at you with those dark chocolate eyes.
"We should stop, shouldn't we?"
He was the sun. Your sun, as you were also his. You both burned each other down to the point where you stop recognizing each other.
But you couldn't ask the sun to stop shining.
---
You hated winter. The cold and unforgiving air hurt your lungs every time you breathe. The white spread across felt too cruel to you. But even then, everything about winter reminded you of him.
You hated your old blanket. You threw out your blanket because no matter how many times you washed it, his scent always found its way back to cling to the blanket. Also, the sight of the blanket made you thought of the countless kisses you shared under it, countless stories and promises you whispered to each other.
You stopped drinking hot chocolate because it reminded you of how he would scoop out his marshmallow and put it to your mug. Of how he would ask for the second glass although he hadn't finished his first.
But no matter how hard you tried to avoid whatever that made you think of him, the thought of him always evaded your mind.
As also him.
He put your book you left without you knowing in his house under his clothes in his dresser. Every time he looked at the book, it always reminded him of when you laughed and hit him softly because he couldn't stop himself from bothering you who's so deep into the book with kisses and ended with the book facing down on the table and both of you laying side by side.
Just one thing he couldn't throw or keep deep inside his drawer. One of your hoodie. No, it's actually not your hoodie, but it's his hoodie that you always wore that the thread soaked up your scent. He just let it hung behind his door, never touching it as he was afraid he'd wipe out every traces of you on it.
He, as were you, hated winter.
---
There's one thing you wanted to shout out to the world. There's one thing you wanted him to know. You desperately wanted him to realize that, for the love of God, you miss him terribly.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. Not a single day passed without you trying so hard to erase him from your mind but failed miserably.
Your coward heart dreaded the thought of seeing him. You were afraid that he'd have moved on, leaving you covered in memories. You were afraid that somehow he had found a way to erase you, a way that no matter how hard you tried, you still couldn't find it.
Without you actually realizing, your legs took you to a jazz bar you both liked so much. As you enter the place, you heard a familiar tunes, an awfully familiar tunes. The tunes you both enjoyed so much. The tunes you both once danced to.
You chose a chair on the bar and asked for a drink to the bartender. You sipped it while listening to the band playing familiar tunes after tunes. You were on your 3rd bottle when you overheard two girls talking beside you.
"Did you see the drummer? I noticed that his cheeks were wet. I think he's crying."
"The drummer? Crying, you said?"
"Yeah, I believe so. He's so hot though."
You tuned out their words and tried to see the said drummer behind the busy instruments. Something deep inside you was hoping that perhaps it's him. But you were also afraid. Afraid that it might be him and you'd crumble.
There was an empty table near the stage so you brought your half-filled bottle to sit there. From your new point of view, you could see who was behind the instrument. Yes, it was him.
When the spotlight hit him, you could see his cheek glint. Perhaps it was sweat, but from the way his ears and nose turned so red, you knew it was not a sweat. Also, the way his nose scrunched and his breathes heaved.
You couldn't tear your eyes away from him. When he found your eyes in the crowd, you could see his eyes widened and he missed a beat. From his eyes, you could see that whatever he felt mirrored yours. Loneliness. Longing. Desperation.
And you believed he could see them in your eyes too.
When the song that he played finished, he threw away the drum sticks and walked towards you, ignoring his bandmates who looked at him with questions in their eyes. He just walked to you with fire in his eyes and a hint of hesitation in his steps. No, not the kind of a fire that destroys. A fire that's warm, and safe.
The bridge has broken a long time ago. But with every step he took, he mended the bridge tiny bit by tiny bit. By stopping in front of you, he was halfway across the bridge.
And with your hand reached towards him, you met him halfway.
- FIN -