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Truth to be told, you didn’t expect to spend your night like this.
With a candlelit dinner prepared by your one and only boyfriend, Yaku Morisuke. The two of you laughing the night away while drinking wine and eating your favorite dish that he cooked, in the comfort of your shared apartment. Your home.
The place where the both of you would do movie nights that were actually just cuddling sessions, making fun of the films you were watching or shed a few tears to. Early days where you and him wake up in each other's arms, wishing for more time to laze around before getting up and starting the day. Playful nights chasing each other into rooms, laughter echoing around the whole place. Calm days where you lazed around and whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears, or when you played games until you both got tired from being so competitive. Quiet but comfortable dinners like the one you were doing now.
You noticed Yaku fixing his plate after he was done eating— before he stood up abruptly, making you confused. He offered his hand to you as he asked,
“Would you like to dance?”
You stared at him for a few seconds before smiling and putting your hand in his, letting him pull you up and lead you into the living room. He paused for a minute to play a slow song from his phone and set it down on the table, before putting his hands on your waist while you placed yours around his neck, intertwining your fingers across his nape. You rested your head on his shoulder as he pressed a kiss on the top of it.
Everything felt like a fairytale with him and you didn’t want it to end.
The song was reaching its climax when he all but suddenly whispered your name softly, so softly like he was afraid he would ruin the peaceful atmosphere the both of you created.
“Hmm?” You hummed.
“I love you.”
Tears were slowly welling up in your eyes. You wanted to laugh at the situation but instead you let out a choked sob.
It took a few seconds before you could utter your response.
“I know.”
Lies. All lies.
Slowly, the picture perfect that was your relationship begins to crack.
Everything felt like a fairytale with him and you didn’t want it to end…until it did.
You weren’t stupid. You knew the moment when the touches became less prominent, quality time became almost non-existent, the light in his eyes became more and more dull when he looked at you, arguments became more frequent, and finally, the “i love you’s” became more of chore to say and so he stopped saying it to you.
When your home became less of a home and felt more like a cage.
It was over.
You have finally reached the conclusion of your love story with him.
You couldn’t even really be mad at him because you knew he tried his best. You have seen him do so.
Yet, it really wasn’t the same anymore.
“I was always hoping that one day I can wake up and feel the same for you as I did back then but—“ he looked down at his hands because he couldn’t bear to see you break anymore because of him.
“But it never happened. I’m so sorry.”
Denial clouded your heart and mind at first. You didn’t want to believe that it was the end. No. You refused. And so you wanted to bargain with him. Plead that this was all just a phase and the both of you will get past it. You wanted to be selfish. And you did. You asked if he could just try one more time and see where it goes. Maybe if he pretended for a little while longer he’ll grow to love you genuinely once more.
But it still wasn’t enough and by this time, as you were both dancing in the middle of your once safe haven, you accepted the inevitable.
He had been so good to you and you didn’t want to make him suffer anymore than this.
Because you love him.
Because you want to see him happy.
Because you knew that this was hurting him as it was hurting you.
Because even though he fell out of love, he still took so much good care of you.
Because he still loved you.
Just not in that way any longer.
And so as the music came to a stop and your last dance reached its finale with one final twirl, you pulled yourself away from his embrace and held his hand in yours. You wiped your tears—but no matter, they still kept falling—and you smiled at him.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
You said as you gripped his hand tighter.
“I’m gonna be okay.”
And with one last squeeze of his hand, you finally let him go.
Once Yaku had collected his things and gone, you wanted to laugh at the irony. The irony in which the same place you began your fairytale was also the same place where you finally closed the book.
There was just a different kind of hurt in knowing the both of you tried your hardest but still fell out of love regardless.
Another kind of hurt in the quietness of the break up that follows the acceptance in realizing that the best thing to do is to let go of each other.
“Thank you for everything. Goodbye.”
Maybe in another time, you’d finally live your life where you could put down the book of your fairytale and start writing another one. You laid in the guest room bed—too afraid to sleep in the once shared bedroom—and let the clutches of sleep take you.
Maybe another time but for now, you would dream of him.