meet me in amsterdam | (chaesoo)

goodbye

I woke up before my alarm went off this morning.

This was rare, and on any other day, I would've gone back to sleep. Today was different though.

Today is different because it's Rosie's birthday. I was so excited to be spending the day with her, already planning weeks prior what to do for her, what to get her, and just blocking out this specific day just to be able to spend it with her.

Seeing the time and realizing that I still had about an hour left before my alarm goes off, I decided that I could spend a few minutes in bed with the blanket just covering the lower part of my body. It's a warm day today, the sun already seeping through the small crack in my curtain, giving everything it touches in my room a tangerine hue. Rosie would like this, I smiled as I thought to myself.

I went about the events about to transpire in my head once more. I'm an events planner by profession, so it's almost second nature to me to be thinking about things in such a detailed, systemic way. The more I thought about my plans for Rosie's birthday, the smile on my face grew wider, not even realizing it until I felt my cheek muscles ache.

Breakfast. Flowers. Rosie.

I soon rolled out of bed and into the bathroom, washed my face and wiped it dry with a towel I had hanging by the door. I took a quick glance at myself in the mirror and even with my eye bags apparent and hair all over the place, I can't deny that this is the happiest I've looked in a while. One side of my mouth went up in a miserable attempt to smile, and then Rosie's voice suddenly rang in my head.

"Babe, come on, that's not a smile. That's a smirk!"

I chuckled to myself as I tore my gaze away from the mirror and walked out of the bathroom.

-

First thing on the agenda: breakfast.

I never actually used to eat breakfast, but ever since dating Rosie 3 years ago, she has made it a habit for me, saying that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and all.

And so there I was, standing in front of the stove as I slowly stirred the pan containing my serving of scrambled eggs in them. I was humming a soft tune, not really knowing if I'm actually humming along to a song or if I'm making this up as I go. This is another one of those habits Rosie has that grew on me. She was always so musically-inclined, many of our dates spent at concerts, at piano recitals, or even just in the comfort of her home as she strummed chords on her acoustic guitar for me. It was always perfect to me, but maybe that is partly (mostly) due in part to Rosie being perfect to me.

In fact, it is because of music that Rosie and I met.

It wasn't anything grand, it's not a story lifted directly off a story book. It was rather simple, really. I planned a small dinner party for this affluent family and I ended up hiring Rosie to sing for the night. I remember being skeptical about her the first time I saw her stand up on that small platform, she looked nervous as hell. I was pretty nervous too because she looked like she was about to run off the stage and bail, forever tarnishing my reputation and nobody else hiring me to do these events.

But when she started to sing, I remember everything else going silent. The small talk ceased and everybody's attention was on her. There was something so commanding in the way she sang: soft, simple, and pure, but at the same time, strong and confident.

I took my chance that night, forgoing of all that beating around the bush crap and just asked for her number because I wanted to take her out on a date. I'd like to think I was charming enough, but really, I also have liquid courage to thank.