espeoncat

it's him again.

his unkempt, messy hair shaded his eyes, his breath ragged and uneven from my weight. white fluffs of condensation billowed out, only to dissipate in the frigid winter air.

his arms felt warm. i could feel his heartbeat, pressed tightly against his chest. its reassuring thumps lulled me into a fidgety sleep.

*

“where are we?”

”...hideout.” he murmured, dragging a heavy quilt off the sofa onto the floor. its messy and littered with coffee cans and empty ramen cups.

“that's what we called it.” he gazed out at the midnight skyline. “my brother and i.”

“you've lost weight...” his frame was much smaller than i last remembered. faint bags of black dragged his normally sharp eyes downward. he looked so tired, his shoulders slumped, refusing to meet my gaze.

“you too.” he looked up. there was so much sadness in his eyes that my chest scrunched up in pain.

“you surprised me, showing up suddenly like that,” my faint laughter trailed off. i had to squeeze the words out of myself. it hurt me to see him like that. he was never this vulnerable, this afraid. a light night drizzle pattered against the balcony window. the air conditioning kept whirling away, a mixture of sounds swirling around us, amplifying the silence that hung between us. he looked out of the window, hands limp by his side, his silhouette stark against the night lights of the cityscape.

“did you go to lots of faraway places again? see all kinds of interesting things? make all the stuff you wanted to make? get a lot done?” it spilled out of me in a surge. i stared, wide-eyed, at him, desperately hoping for a response.

his eyes flitted to my right arm.

and all the pain, all that repressed fear, anguish and despair came rushing back. i gripped my hospital gown so tightly that my fists started hurting, shocked.

”...wait. just wait. i'll get better soon, and then we can...” my voice caught in my throat, lips quivering. “and then we can show each other what we made, just like before.” the warmth seeped through my cheeks. i let my hands fall to my side and let my vision blur. the autumn rain outside pelted the city with its chilly shards.

“that's okay. you don't have to do that.” a different, reassuring warmth touched my cheek. the sobs came involuntarily, rocking my body, agitating my wounds. it hurt. everything hurt.

“you don't have to leave anything behind to show that you were alive,” his shaky, rough-edged voice, barely a whisper, pierced through my suffering.

“all that matters is that you're alive. and that we can be together.”

his warmth soaked through my entire being. it was so comforting, so peaceful, so lovely, that for the first time in weeks, i felt happy.

“that's all i need. that's all i care about anymore.” his voice broke at the last syllable, and this time, a single searing teardrop soaked through the scratchy fabric of my hospital gown.

so sweet. the words spilling from his lips were the kindest, sweetest words ever. his voice, too, sounded so gentle, so tender. and so terribly sad.

almost as if he was calling out for someone, somewhere far away.

“what happened?”

he raised his head, eyes full of despair and grief, cheeks soaked in tears.

“lets go to sleep.” he forced a smile.

and the sounds of the city enveloped us in a cocoon of painful love.

***

first day of my life

its snowing again outside. the fifth time this week, and it isn't even New Year's yet. ghostly petals of frost float outside the balcony window, softly illuminated by your yellow night light. looks like global warming is coming on in full force.

your snores are especially loud this morning. the bright cover of your novel peeks out from under the blankets, your glasses are skewed at a funny angle on your face. I sighed. looks like someone fell asleep reading yet again. you didn't even bother to take off your blue cardigan.

carefully, I manage to take off those large glasses of yours. your lips tremble and you mumble something incoherent. your hair, all frizzy from your tossing and turning, tickles my arm, breath light and constant against my chest.

“you're crushing your book under your own weight, idiot,” I mutter as I pull out the novel, bent pages and all, and throw it on the bedside table.

I shiver in spite of the layers of blankets that you had insistently piled on our bed. maybe not taking off your cardigan was a good call. you always were unexpectedly lucky with your sloppy fuck ups. I found the corners of my lips curving up in spite of myself, and I brush a stray strand of hair off your still sleepy face.

you once told me you hated mornings, and I agreed. but now I'm having second thoughts. the faint morning sun filters through our floral patterned curtains, slowly melting the dawn snowflakes plastered against the glass. your hand feels warm as I carefully slip mine into them. you always were a deep sleeper, but today your eyes half-opened, and your lips quivered at the early morning chill.

“good morning,” I smile, and gently squeezed yours, feeling your warmth seep through me.

I'm glad that I didn't die before I met you.

夏

your eyes seemed to speak of pastel coloured skies and warm soil between our toes. they sparkled in the stuffy summer night, with our warm, sweaty bodies pressed together. the dim, shifting colours from the computer monitor playing the silent, forgotten film formed a kaleidoscope of patterns against our naked bodies, with two pairs of earbuds hanging from the port splitter swaying gently in the soft whirl of the air conditioner.

i stared into yours. the pieces of clockwork seemed to click into place. you smile the faintest of smiles, lips curving up ever so slightly. and suddenly, you're so easy to read. I had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable before. it hit me that i had never trusted enough to bare the entirety of my being like this. i could read the entirety of your being like a book, and you could mine.

“i like you.” you slurred, lips moving sloppily. the soft whisper of summer leaves brushing against the night wind, and the gentle hum of yellow streetlamps burning incandescent. these sounds seemed to swirl around me, a whirlpool of honey and clover.

it felt good. you felt good.

i could get used to this, i thought, mind fuzzy with happiness and body warm with excitement. and so, for the first time in a long while, i smiled too.

and i leaned in for another kiss, our shadows touching each other deep into the night.

love is

love is cotton candy on a lukewarm summer evening as the ferris wheel runs laps around the great big sky, coloured orange by the sinking tangerine against a fluffy white backdrop of clouds and of you.

love is a cup of hot chocolate pink scarf wrapped around the neck pinkie-promising through our knitted mittens and your bright laugh adding colour to the frosty winter air.

love is cry laughing on the roof as the light summer rain pelts the city with its crystal shards, heedless of the cold because of the warmth we shared.

and love is your eyes seen through fogged up glasses as they light up when i carefully place the macaron that clumsy me took 5 hours to make into your open mouth as the spring breeze ruffles my hair and tousles yours.

*

COFFEE

a strong smell of roasted coffee beans permeate your blue pullover. in this little bubble of artificial winter, time seems to have stopped completely. outside, the autumn rains cover the city in dark, glassy wetness.

our tiny table in the centre of our room is littered with papers and pens. your back faces me, colouring the room with a spot of light blue. it kinda suits you, complements your brown eyes and dark black hair, lightly ruffled, lazily swept back with gel in the morning.

“what's for lunch?” my stomach grumbles in discontent. I was too lazy to make breakfast, you were too lazy to go down and get a takeout.

you murmur something incoherent, the fountain pen in your fingers sliding across the surface of the lecture pad as you fill the pages with your usual magic.

I poke your spine with my finger impatiently. the sound of the rain gets steadily heavier . there's something comforting about the fuzzy darkness in our room. I can feel your warmth just right next to me, and I can't help but smile. lazy, rainy Thursday mornings in Tokyo are best spent with someone you love, after all.

I shift myself closer to you, resting my head on your shoulder, breathing in your smell of caramel and cocoa. my stomach grumbles, but my heart sighs in content as you nonchalantly reach over and tickle my nose with your finger.

I close my eyes and smile in happiness. I hear you faintly saying something about caneles and hot chocolate as I drift away to sleep, dreaming of sheep.

And of you.

honey * these memories of the times we spent together, from the coffee shop where we gulped cans of soft drinks while chatting the day away just right across our block, to the bookstore where we spent hours poring over young adult books, keep me warm during this cold, rainy November night. // begin. the curtains are flapping wildly, wind pelting the cloth relentlessly, rain streaming in ferociously, like a rain of arrows against the marble tiles of my whitewashed room. a pool of liquid, with bits and pieces of leaves and twigs scattered within like a sorry collection of items you'd see for sale at a flea market, steadily gathers near my bed. its wooden construction is already sodden with rainwater, but i can't be bothered to get off my bed and close the windows. what the hell's the point anyway? i do wish the rain could wash away the pain, but water isn't strong enough to cleanse myself of my thoughts of you. i hug my pillow just a little tighter as i feel my nose turn sour, crunching up again like a stupid shriveled prune. i hate it when this happens. i dig my nails deeper into my skin, already pinkish red from my previous attempts at forgetting. and i feel my eyes steadily filling up with water. ironic. i don't need more liquid around me right now, being surrounded by this storm, trapped in this white bubble of longing and loneliness. claustrophobic time warp. frozen minutes, frigid air. chilly thoughts and air-conditioned skulls. slipping again. i try to pull my quilt closer around me, a futile attempt to shield myself from the invading spectres within my mind. i can easily ignore the external environment, honestly. i'm completely used to the noise, the cold, the pain. i can zone it out, make it numb. but inside here i'm a complete wreck. i'm screaming internally, the rippling soundwaves echoing off the walls of my skull, ricocheting everywhere like sound bullets ripping my entire being apart.

please help me. come back.