(a is for angst and f is for fluff)

1. assumptions (a)

  You smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's hesitant, guilty, because you knew what I had been about to say.

  "Yeah, we're hoping for marriage in the future."

  I smile, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes. It's bitter, broken, because I should've seen it coming.

  "I'm happy for you."

  After all, this is what happens when you assume someone loves you. 

2. bullet (a)

  "You coward," you say, words derisive and cutting. "You won't do it. You won't shoot me."

  I meet your sneer and your desperate eyes coldly.

  "You underestimate me."

  I can't tell if the resounding bang that splits the air is from the bullet or from my heart breaking.

3. consequence (f)

  "This is the consequence of loving me," you tease, though your words are slightly melancholic. "You get whipped cream body soap and sauce facials at four a.m."

  I smile at you, pulling you into a hug despite the fact that we're covered in the remnants of our impromptu food fight.

  "Yeah, well, if the price I pay for loving you is happiness, then I will love you for an eternity."

4. deaf (f)

  I'm sorry, but I can't hear. 

  I look away, waiting for your response.

  When I turn back, it's to a warm smile and a warm hug, and for once the flush that creeps high on my cheeks is not from embarrassment. 

  It doesn't stop me from loving you any less. 

5. embarrassment (a)

  "You're an embarrassment to me," you hiss, words low and poisonous. Your grip is tight at best, and painful at worst. 

  I bite my lip, wondering when the things about me that you claimed to love became the things you claim to hate. 

  Somehow, the uncertainty is worse than a confirmation. 

  "Do you still love me?"

  You pause, and your eyes are conflicted when you turn to face me. 

  "I don't know anymore."

6. forgotten (a)

  It's not three a.m. but three p.m.

  There are no tear-stained pillows, there are only crumpled papers clutched so tightly they're beyond recognition. 

  There is no devastating sadness, only a sense of numbness and a kind of shell-shocked acceptance. 

  They speak of heartbreaks from love, but never heartbreaks from friendships.

  The tears don't come, because you're losing yourself in a world of music and words and a reality that will never be yours no matter how idyllic. 

  Forgotten, again, again, again, again.

  Hurts, so much, so much, so much, so much.

  You want to forget them as they've forgotten you, but you can't. 

7. guilt (f)

  "I'm sorry," I gasp, guilt lodging in my throat and exploding out as a sob. "I'm so sorry."

  "Hey, it's okay." You clasp my hands in yours, and despite the slight traces of hurt in your eyes, your touch is nothing but loving. "Don't beat yourself up over this, it's a small matter. I don't need anything, anyway. All I need is your love."

  I smile despite myself, because you always have this uncanny ability to make me feel better no matter the situation.

  "You've had my love from the day I met you."

8. holiday (f)

  "Mistletoe," I breathe out, suddenly acutely aware of our surroundings. 

  "I didn't notice." You look contemplative. "We're supposed to kiss now, right?"

  I nod, looking away so that I don't have to see your expression. At least, without looking directly at you, I can pretend that the heat in my cheeks is from embarrassment and annoyance instead of hope. 

  "You know what?" Your grin is blinding and I'm momentarily stunned into silence when I see it because your eyes are sparkling, your cheeks are flushed, and your expression is hopeful. "I don't want our first kiss to be forced, nor do I want it to be at some random Christmas party we won't remember a few months later. Besides, I save first kisses for first dates."

  And I laugh as you pull me away to God-knows-where, because for once I know that I have you. 

  Even if it isn't for forever, it's still something, and I'm grateful. That is the true spirit of Christmas after all, isn't it? 

9. insomnia (a)

  You left, leaving me with a broken heart and an inability to fall asleep. 

  I stayed, hoping that you would come back to mend that broken heart and lull me to sleep with the feeling of your arms around me. 

  You never did come back.

  And I spent sleepless nights upon sleepless nights with memories of you, cups of chamomile tea, and poetry for the brokenhearted. 

  In those nights of staring unseeingly at the ceiling, I wondered if you missed me.

  In those nights of insomnia, I wondered if you had ever loved me. 

  In those nights of remembering, I wondered if you felt guilty. 

  Always, always, my conclusion was in the negative. 

10. jealousy (a)

  "Do you not trust me? Do you really think that I would cheat on you?"

  You're red-faced, furious, but I can hear hurt lacing your anger. For that reason, I can't meet your gaze. 

  "I do trust you," I say quietly. "I'm sorry."

  "Then why?" You exclaim, desperate now. "I only have eyes for you, and you should know that. Do you not love me enough that you think I'd do something only scum do?"

  "I get jealous precisely because I love you." My voice cracks, and I will away the memories that flash in my mind. "I love you more than I can bear, which is why I'm afraid."

  "Of what?"

  "I'm afraid that I'll lose you. I trust you. I just don't trust myself to be enough for you."

11. kiss (f)

  "Do you feel any better?"

  You groan, burrowing into the sheets.

  "No, it still feels like someone is ramming a hammer against my brain repeatedly," you mumble. "But I should be all right by tomorrow. I've had this sort of bug before."

  I smile.

  "Well, I'll be here if you need me. There's water and medicine on your bedside table."

  "I smell soup." Your voice is considerably cheerier as you say it. "Can you feed it to me? I'm too tired and lazy to get up."

  "Just this once," I tease. "Only because you're sick."

  "And because you love me."

  "Yeah, I do," I lean down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I really do."

12. love potion (f)

  "A love potion?" You laugh, sounding almost offended. "You tried to make me fall for you with a love potion?"

  "I wasn't thinking straight," I say defensively. "I was desperate and foolish. Besides, you ended up falling for me anyway."

  "Mm, I did," I can feel your smile against my skin, and I curl further into you. "But, you know, you didn't need a love potion."

  "Hey, it was worth a shot, okay."

  "No, what I mean is, you never needed a love potion with me. It wouldn't have worked, because I fell for you the very first day we met. Love potions don't work on people who are already in love, after all." 

13. memory (a)

  "Promise you'll remember me?"

  "Forever and always."

  It's midnight and my eyes are burning, but I continue to stare at my screen. 

  It's your social media, with pictures of you plastered everywhere as if mocking me. Pictures of you with your family, pictures of you in a home I don't know, pictures of you with someone else.

  Someone who isn't me. 

  And I know that I shouldn't have hoped for anything more, because you're countries away and I'm still here, clinging on to the shards of our broken relationship. 

  Somehow, I wish that we'd officially broken up, so that I won't be left here wondering, hoping, praying that you'll come back and stop cutting me completely from your life. 

  All you are now is a memory.

  All I am now is a memory.

  And that's all we were - a string of broken memories that were never meant to be. 

14. nightmare (a)

  I wake up screaming again.

  Instinctively, I reach out for you, only to grab cold sheets.

  Right. 

  In the hazy, groggy moments after a particularly terrifying nightmare, it's easy to forget that you're gone. It's easy to forget that you will always be gone, that you're six feet under, that you're never coming back no matter how hard or how much I scream for you.

  It's the most recurring nightmare, the memory of seeing you die right before my eyes and not being able to do anything about it. 

  Yet, the nightmares are the only way I can escape the true nightmare of reality.

  The reality of losing you. 

15. orange (f)

  When I first see you, you are wearing an orange jumper. 

  You smile, wave, and in my panic I retort with a cutting remark about how your orange jumper clashes with your blue eyes.

  (Really, your blue eyes are the colour of the sky and I've never seen anything more beautiful.)

  When you first ask me on a date, you are wearing an orange jumper.

  You're nervous, stuttering, but I can't help but feel that it makes you more endearing. And so I accept.

  (Really, I think you're perfect enough as it is.)

  When you ask me to marry you, you are wearing an orange jumper.

  You're trembling slightly, and so I clasp your hands in mine and reply with a breathless yes, of course I'll marry you, you idiot. 

  (Really, that orange jumper is our good luck charm.)

16. physical imperfection (f)

  "I'm ugly," I murmur into my pillow. "I'm ugly and I can't do anything about it."

  You card your hand through my hair, but it is little comfort. 

  "Vitiligo doesn't make you ugly," you say, your voice a soothing melody in a room filled with doubts and insecurities. "Physical imperfection doesn't make you ugly. Imperfection in general doesn't make you ugly."

  "Yeah?" My voice is bitter.

  "Yeah. I could never stop loving you because of something minor like that, and I hope you realise that you shouldn't love yourself any less too."

17. quilt (a)

  It's a patchwork quilt for patchwork lovers.

  Red, for the temperamental guy who got jealous easily but looked at me as if I was his everything. 

  I didn't love him, not like I love you.

  Blue, for the quiet high school sweetheart who was sarcastic and snippy, but never directed that cynicism towards me. 

  I didn't love him, not like I love you. 

  Green, for the cheerful neighbour who joked and pretended to be oblivious, but talked about the universe and the future at two a.m. over the phone. 

  I didn't love him, not like I love you. 

  Because while all these people were simple, singular colours, you were a myriad of hues and shades that I could never truly define. You were an enigma, one that I could never truly crack, not because I didn't try but because you never let me.

  And now I'm tearing up this patchwork quilt, tearing up the memories of heartbreak, tearing up the memories of you. 

  It's a patchwork quilt for patchwork lovers, but the time for me to love is gone. 

18. regaining memory (a)

  I remember how you looked at me, confused and afraid, when I hugged you the moment you woke up.

  I remember how I came to the hospital daily, trying to help you regain your memories.

  I remember how you began to think of me as your best friend, and I tried to tell you that no, we weren't best friends, but lovers. 

  I remember how you looked at her, starstruck and smitten, the moment she waltzed in like she still owned your heart.

  I remember how she came to the hospital daily, doing nothing but repeat over and over that she was your girlfriend, and not me. 

  I remember how you began to think of her as your girlfriend, and told me that you were going to ask her out. 

  I remember us, but you don't.

  Why?

  Why can you remember everything but me?

19. scar (f)

  It's five-oh-six in the morning, and I'm awake.

  You're asleep beside me, your arms around me and your breathing even. 

  You look so peaceful in your sleep. All the day's worries and stress have been erased from your face, and just by looking at you, I can almost believe that what lies ahead of us is peace, and not trouble. 

  It's five-oh-six in the morning, and all the good times and bad times we've had together are flashing through my mind.

  You're a scar imprinted on my heart forever, but somehow, you're a scar I don't mind having. 

20. time loops (f)

  "Please don't do this," I sob, feeling my heart twist and constrict in my chest. "Please don't make me leave you behind."

  "Hey, it'll be okay," you pull me into a hug. "It doesn't matter. I will always love you, no matter the time period, no matter what body I inhabit. I love you now, and I will continue to love you for all eternity."

Rewind. 

  "Hey, I know you, right?"

  "...yeah. You do."

Rewind

  "Um, I know we just met, but would you like to go for a drink sometime?"

  "I'd love to."

Rewind

  "Somehow, I've always felt that it's been you from the very start."

  "I'm glad. You didn't go back on your word."

Rewind

  "I love you. I will love you even after the stars stop shining, even after everything is dead and gone and buried. I will love you for all eternity, time traveller or not."

  "You made a promise to me. You don't remember it, because it was another you. But I'm happy, even if I have to live with falling for and leaving behind all the yous of every timeline. I love you too."

21. unfaithful (a)

  You come home, reeking of cheap alcohol and sex again. 

  I pretend I'm asleep, even when the bed sags slightly and I feel your telltale warmth on my back. 

  "I love you," you murmur, but your voice is thick and virtually unrecognisable to me. By turning my back to you, by not being able to see you, it's almost as if you're a stranger.

  How can you say you love me when you're unfaithful? 

  How can you say you love me when your heart is not with me?

  How can you say you love me when you don't?

22. voice (a)

  "We're dating!" You exclaim, spreading your arms wide. "God, I've been waiting for this forever!"

  I still, feeling my smile freeze in place. 

  "Congratulations," I say, praying that you don't hear the slight crack in my voice. "Last long."

  You smile at me, that honest grin that I love to see.

  I wish that I have the voice to tell you how I feel, how I've always felt. I wish, but it's nothing more than a wish.

  They always say that you shouldn't fall in love with your best friend, and I should've listened. 

23. waking up (f)

  Five years ago, I woke up to the sound of my parents arguing.

  Four years ago, I woke up to a breakfast gone cold, hurriedly made by my brother.

  Three years ago, I woke up to overdue papers and scattered stationery. 

  Two years ago, I woke up to a pounding headache and a rancid taste in my mouth.

  One year ago, I woke up to anonymous gifts and carefully penned love letters.

  Now, I wake up to you, and I couldn't ask for anything more. 

24. xerox (f)

  "Do you not know how to operate this?"

  I laugh nervously, fidgeting. 

  "No, it's my first time."

  You chuckle, and offer to help me with 'the stupidly simple task of operating a Xerox machine'.

  When you pass me the papers, you wink. There's a slight nervousness in your voice as you bid me farewell and walk off.

  When I look down, there's a bright green Post-It with your number scribbled on it. 

25. yours (a)

  It's quiet as we eat, and any conversation we make is forced. 

  I can see you stealing glances at the pretty, leggy waitress with the good smile and nice personality, but I don't say anything. 

  "You look miserable," you say suddenly.

  I am miserable, I want to scream. I'm so damn miserable but I don't know what to do. 

  "Just tired," I say instead, with a small smile. You nod, and your attention is back to your food. 

  It's a pointless struggle, this thing between you and I. You accepted me out of pity. You stayed with me out of pity. Even now, after five months, you are still doing it out of pity.

  But I don't want your pity. I want your love.

  I've always been yours, but you've never been mine. 

26. zeal (a)

  I've always known you to be someone who is passionate about everything you do. 

  It's something that always draws me to you, the way you go about life with a zeal that I've never seen before. 

  That is, until you begin losing that zeal.

  Still, I love you. 

  That is, until I find out you're diagnosed with cancer.

  Still, I love you.

  That is, until I'm standing before your coffin trying to suppress tears and failing. 

  Still, I love you.

  I'll find you again, someday. Then, not even death may do us part. 

fin.