INK~

Prologue

It had been days. And weeks. And months. Yet a single trace of him was not seen. Not his curly chocolate hair that bounces whenever he throws his head laughing about something. Or even his dimples that are clearly visible the moment a sly grin form in his plump lips. Not even the green irises that turn into blue when light shine to it. I was wrong when I thought he'd come back. I somehow managed to gather my strength that gloomy day, but now that the memories come flooding back, he never does. He was gone. He really is.

The day had just started but it seems that I'm already tired. I am too lazy to stand up from my bed and I am more than sure that I'm a mess. Finally finding the energy to get out of bed, I faced a mirror and found myself right. With my disheveled hair, dark ringlets are forming from under my eyes and my lips are too dry. I forced myself to smile and did a great job at the attempt. But I failed. Trying doesn't mean getting what you desire. Not at all times.

If he was here, he would envelop me in a tight hug that can squeeze my little body and trap me inside his strong arms. In the first place, he won't even let me get out of bed without kissing me in the forehead.

Tears were threatening to spill from my blue eyes, but I'd been careful enough to wipe them immediately with the sleeve of the shirt I am wearing. If I ever want to move on and live a normal life, I have to stop this. But what exactly is this?

Should I stop reminiscing everything we had been through?

Should I stop remembering everything he does, from the way his laughter filled the room when I crack a corny joke to the way his knuckles turn white when he's angry?

Should I stop rewinding all the things we did? Should I forget the day we rode a roller coaster and I just watched the priceless expression in his face? Should I let go of those winter nights when he held me tight to keep me warm?

Should I stop loving him?

I sighed. My mind is not obviously cooperating with me today. What I last needed are thoughts of him, but my stubborn brain is pushing pictures of him into my consciousness. Why is that like that? When you want to get over someone, it's more that you remember happy times with them? This is unfair. I am thinking of him and he might be somewhere, glad to get rid of me.

My room is a simple bedroom. The walls are adorned with a beige paint, although some parts are already smeared. The two glass windows located at the side of the bed are always closed and the pink curtains are always down. But two months ago, it wasn't. My room is a happy place to be in, a safe, peaceful sanctuary for the both of us. For just the both of us, against everyone, against the world.

I opened the door and walked out. I live in a not-so-big apartment in suburbs of Texas. I like it here because it's actually comfortable here and the rent is low. It's not comfortable here without him, the ever annoying voice inside me is present again.

 I went to the kitchen to maybe have some food. Who am I kidding really? Since he'd been gone I didn't cook for myself again. I just order random food or buy canned goods to eat. I started not to give a damn to the world and to myself, my subconscious whispered. Opening the refrigerator which is in the corner of the room, I looked for something to eat. Unfortunately, I remembered that I don't actually have real food in this house except cupcakes, some flour, a few eggs and a wine. Perfect.

I grabbed the bottle of wine in its neck and prepared a glass. I bought it last week from some door-to-door agent. The bright rays of the sun peeked into the curtain which covered the window in front of me. Who cares if I'll be drinking in this time of the day? I chuckled. I hummed a rare melody, trying to relax myself before I do the most stupid thing to do again-remember him. I poured the wine and filled about one thirds of the transparent glass. I put the tip of the glass near my mouth, silently telling myself to calm down and maybe, just maybe, have a good time.