Endearingly silly 8

“This is a relationship. I can’t do it without you and I can’t… I need you to trust me.” He knelt infront of her.

A pregnant pause.

“I do trust you,” She rasped. “I do.”

Those words hung like an olive branch in the air between them. A small sliver of hope, a truce, an understanding. Neither of them had expected this introduction to be easy, but neither had expected the string of events their relation would trigger. They hadn’t expected their first night under this roof to be spent picking up the pieces of shattered hearts.

“Then trust me,” He said slowly. “If you need more time that’s okay.” He leant forward and rested his chin on her knee. “If you don’t want me to get close to you right away that’s okay too.” He felt her hand in his hair. “We’ll get through this.”

“You can’t know that.”

He glanced up. “It’s called hope.”

“I can’t just hope everything will turn out okay.”

“No, but we can fight for it,” he informed her. “And we will as long as you still want me to stay.”

Eyes closed. “I want this. You know I want this. But this isn’t about want. This is about doing the right thing and… and damn if I know what that is right now.” Her eyes opened and she locked her gaze onto him. “I’ve never done this before. I… I’m terrified of what this feeling might mean and of letting my guards down and I know you said you would never ask for anything, but I can’t not give you something. But I want that something to be better than this... But this is all I have right now.”

“And it's more than enough for me, more than I ever dared to dream to have.”

                            ...

“Good morning, my dear wife.”

“Good morning indeed, dear husband.” Her eyes met his and they giggled like silly toddlers.

“So I jus...”

“About last ni…”
They both chuckled nervously before she gestured for him to continue what he was going to say.

“I'm just happy that you’re still with me, to be honest.”

“What?!”

“Last night you were…”

She cut him off by hugging him tightly and mummuring “I’m with you,”

“How far?” He asked nervously.

She closed her eyes softly and wishpered. “As far as I can see.”

“You mean that?”

She opened her eyes and moved slightly to blink angrily up at him. “I don’t lie.”

“I know. It’s just that last night you were playing a different tune. A really different tune.”

“I’ve never done this before. I…” she frowned, “just don’t give up on me when I lose it, okay? Because I will. I can’t keep a mask on all the time and I’m still really scared under there.”

She made the confession in a harsh low voice, face turned away, and arms held stiff around him. He seemed to understand – really understand – despite it.

“God, I love you sometimes.”

She glared at him playfully. “Just sometimes?!”

One day I'll show you the world

  Loose papers and a charcoal crayon lay cluttered while on the right side of the table stood a neatly closed plastic box which contained a clamp binder. She let the pages run over her thumb, flipping through several sketches and completed works of sights from all over the world, drawn with a charcoal crayon. They were really artistic, almost photo-realistic. At the end of the binder she found a note: One day I’ll show you the world.

“It’s his sketchbook,” She mumbled, absent-minded, too much absorbed in her thoughts, 'One day I’ll show you the world'. He knew that she liked traveling, but couldn’t afford any trips... If only he knew that she only wanted to see the world with him and through his eyes, and now that he is gone, the world is not worth seeing or even living in...

Nothing inside!

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“I already told you; I like you.”

“There isn’t anything to like!"

 “Why do you say that? What gives you the right to tell people what they can feel for you?”

 “It’s true, there is nothing to like or love about me.”

 “I guess I’ll just have to show you.”

“What if you can’t? What if there really isn't anything you can show me?”

Now, she knows

She doesn't know a lot of things.

She doesn't know who invented the television or whether it was her mom or her dad who gave her her name. She doesn't know why her middle school English teacher thought she was smart or why She hated it so much. She doesn't know why the moon is connected to the tides - something with gravity, something about a pull and push in the earth. She doesn't know how many teaspoons are in a tablespoon and she doesn't know why her mum's cake always tastes better than the store brand. She doesn't know why she can't connect with people anymore. She doesn't know why she feels she is going to die every time she steps out of her home. And she doesn't know why everything hurts so much that maybe dying isn't the worst thing to happen after all. 

She doesn't know why he loved her or why he left her.

She doesn't know why she cared back then and why she can't let it go now.

What she doesn't know could fill a few books, maybe even a series, she thinks. And that which she does know is far outweighed by comparison.

What she knows is that the look in her loved ones eyes when They see her ill is one of fear, one of desperation. What she knows is that she is loved...

What she knows is that they will never believe her when she says she's okay. Because the truth is she isn't.

She knows what her sister looks like when she's about to cry and she knows what her best friend's voice sounds like when she's standing on the edge. She also knows how to make her niece laugh, how to poke fun at her mum in a way that doesn't make her self conscious. She knows Her oldest friend's favorite songs. And she knows better than to lie to her loved ones.

Pushing herself up from the ground proves to be a difficult task. But she thinks she is on the right track.

She doesn't know what tomorrow will be like. She doesn't know how to make herself laugh or smile or what she could do to cheer herself up. She doesn't know what it's like to be carefree or if she will have a happy life.

What she does know is that there's a "today" and that she won't let it pass her by anymore.

Here's what she doesn't know: she doesn't know whether or not she is going to make it through. She doesn't know if she was missed when she was away or if stories were made about her. She doesn't know whether or not she can make a difference in someone's life. She doesn't know if she would have liked her life if she made different choices.

But here's what she does know: she knows that when she leaves her old life behind. when she darts out this black hole, she's not leaving what really mattered behind. She doesn't need photos or memories to tell her who was fake and who was real, who loved her and who left her. At the end, she carries her loved ones with her always. In her smile, in her heart.

She knows that what she is feeling now is hope blending with relief and it feels funny. It warms you from the inside out. Like coffee on a cold morning or pancakes fresh from the stovetop.

Endearingly silly 7

"She was worth it, he thought"

The way she talked about her work always entreated him, the way she talked about making a difference or the way it challenged her and pushed her to her limits. But, there were these days when she came drained and looking like a kicked puppy. And being a preternatural curious person and all, he just couldn't help it. So he planned an innocent visit to her at work.

Seeing how her colleagues treated her and how she acted, confusion had been his first reaction then realization, and then rage had followed, closely accompanied by disdain and a lot of other things that had made him want to curl around her and just snarl at everyone else, because how dare they? How dare they treat his love  - the most amazing person he ever met- that way?

The thing was that at her work everyone knew what she was, but no one really took the time to know who she was, no one could tell what she was thinking just by looking at her, or guess what her next move would be just by the way her eyes glistered. And that was not because she hadn't let them in, that was not because she was an arrogant person who believed she was above everyone else, but simply because no one gave her a chance. And so, like a bull in an arena, the more she got stabbed, the more she’d tried to alienate the people around her, attacking with her head down if necessary.

So no, he wasn't surprised that no one knew her sweet side, how caring she was with him, or how loyal and affectionate she can be with her friends. It made him so angry.

Still, it made him grateful. grateful to God for making her the way she was, grateful to her for letting him in and allowing him to see her for who she really was.

So, that day when they went back home, he was enchanted by her every move, every smile and even every weird look she sent him, knowing very well how special they were. So, when he sat on his new shezlong - because you can totally have them on your porch and pretend you were at the beach-  right next to hers on their porch, the sunset light painting dark orange shadows all over her face, he looked at her and smiled because he knew that no one got to have what he had.

“I’ll let you know that my socks are starting to think about filing for sexual harassed,” She smiled, looking soft and relaxed. Her eyes were closed.

“Shut up,” he chuckled playfully. And then he just put more effort into pulling her sock off by using his toes, because he was evil like that. “It’s not my fault you keep using these weird socks”. He hated the stupid socks, they were hideous and that was the exact reason that every time she wanted to wear them, she had to search the darkest corner of their closet where he skillfully hide them.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said, but her smirk betrayed her.

Once one sock was removed, he proceeded to launch it somewhere very, very far – seriously, green socks with purple polka dots, it was like someone vomited on her feet, wearing such things must be a crime somewhere – and hoped that some color blind crow would find it and relieve them of its hideous presence..

“Do you think crows can be color blind?” he asked, sliding a bit more on the chair to reach her other foot.

She opened one eye and gazed in his direction, saw him moving onto his next target but did nothing to stop him. “You are a weird man and there are times when you scare me,”she replied.

He smiled, “I’m not,” he complained. He could feel the warmth of the last sun rays seeping into his skin as he stretched just enough to reach her sock and grab it with his toes.

“yes, you are, and even if you're not - which you totally are - you still manage to scare me anyway,” She murmured, lifting her foot to help him in his task.

“And yet you still love me,” He argued, dropping the sock into an empty flower pot that was right next to him.

It didn't come out as a question – because it really wasn't – and yet, she finally opened both her eyes. For a few seconds she just looked at him, her eyes following the smooth, relaxed lines on his face, searching for something. “Yeah,” she finally said, when she found it. “God help me, I do.”

He got up from where he was and went and lied right next to her, like a big, lazy cat curling around its favorite stuffed toy . He couldn't help but sigh, because she so felt like home.

For now, this time was theirs, and she was his and he couldn't be happier

Endearingly silly 6

"He was worth it, she thought"

It was mornings like this that she liked best. The mornings where all she could hear was his soft whistling - because accusing him of snoring was so offensive - and the birds chirping from the slightly opened window across the room, and she could enjoy the feeling of just laying lazily in bed without a care in the world and without the need to rush through... Weekends - to her- were simply heaven on earth.

what made these mornings even more great was the fact that as always she woke before him, but unlike the other mornings, she can actually lay back and enjoy watching him twitch and flip side to side, trying to avoid the flash of sunlight seeping through the curtains.He looked so adorable that she couldn't help but edge her hand toward his ever so slightly, until she felt her fingertips brush his hand. He unfurled his fingers and let hers slip around his. They both smiled into their pillows. It warmed her heart knowing that he wasn't even fully awake yet, but even in his sleep he could react to her touch.

She watched as he flipped onto his side, his nose almost brushing her cheek. She loved the feeling of heat radiating off him and his morning breath trickling down her neck. It made her feel giddy inside.

She squeezed his hand lightly, slowly rubbing it with her thumb. It made his lips tug up into a smile and his eyes struggle to open. At first his eyelashes fluttered, straining to grow used to the light flooding into the room; then one eye popped open, the other one stuffed into his pillow unable to do anything. A smile rippled across both their lips and they exchange tender looks. 

He scooted closer into her, their ankles twisted together and their legs were tied like ropes. Foolish love was flowing through their eyes. It had them blinded from the world. It was like they had no problems what so ever and all they cared about was the fact that they have this morning all to themselves.

She looked at him all relaxed without all the drama, the funny acts and the short temper and wished she could share this him with everyone. She wished everyone could see the same amazing person she saw. The one that didn't like to be woken by light, that woke up with icy feet and reached for hers to warm up, that liked to cuddle, or the one that loved to poke at her dimples then kiss her nose.

It made so much sense to her on mornings like this. It became so clear to her why she had to keep fighting for them to make it. That their argument or even fighting meant nothing compared to the way they love each other and keep each other safe. Just laying in his presence, listening to his slow breathing and the soft patter of his heart beats was enough to prove to her that it was worth it.

She wanted to whisper to him how much she loved him, how she appreciated having him to share life with, but she didn't have to, she knew he could tell just by the way she looked at him. 

He smiled brightly and raised his pointer finger and tapped at her nose, she shooed his finger and wrinkled her nose. His eyes crinkling at the sides and a little laugh escaped his lips. Those were one of her favorite laughs, the carefree ones that made her insides jump and her chest tighten with fondness.

And just for those first few morning minutes everything was just the way it was supposed to be. It was just them; keeping each other warm and comfortable and loved.

Heartbroken :/

"That's not giving up. That's me just..." He searched around for a word, "losing interest."

The thing is, she knew that was what happened. She had repeated it to herself over and over again, on lonely nights when she needed someone to talk to and found no one, when she walked  into the coffee shop that used to be theirs, when she sat across the room from him where she used to sit beside him. 

But when she was saying it to herself, there was always a chance that she could be wrong. That it was all a big misunderstanding. Now, there's no misunderstanding. There was him, setting out the facts.

Just talking doesn't even make her feel better anymore. She's basically just throwing salt up into the air and letting it land on everybody's wounds. If ever there were a time to walk away, it would be now.

But God, it's hard. It's hard to let him go. It's hard to pretend that he is the scum of the earth when he keeps proving he's not, and she hates him, she hates him for not making it easy.

She finally got what it means to feel heartbroken. It's an actual sensation, like a rending of muscle and a rush of hot liquid through your veins that hurts, really hurts. It hurts because she looks at him,  and thinks, "no, I don't hate you at all, even if hatred is the only feeling you deserve from me."