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—short stories

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these are just a bunch of my short stories i've written. most of them will be romance. There might be a lot of angst and contents that might bother a few people, so i'll make sure to add warnings in each story.

Romance / Poetry
Age Rating:

Last First Winter

It was turning into my most memorable winter yet.

I was laying with my back touching a humongous pile of ice cold snow, small bits of white matter on both of my grip gave a freezing sensation radiating from my fingers and through my body. I glanced sideways and began staring at him. Though everything else was piercing cold, my heart was warm with his presence beside me. His eyes were staring upwards, towards the vague skies of Washington as I examined his inhumane facial features. He was undoubtedly handsome, with his sharp jawline and pretty eyes. I stared for a long minute towards his eyelashes, until his gaze met mine.

“What?” he asked, lips slowly growing into a huge smile.

I smiled back and turned my head so it was my turn to stare at the afternoon sky,


His gaze lingers for a bit longer and he linked his hands with mine. Soon after my heart gave a little leap from the act. It was the slow moments like this which gave me the most warmth and comfort. The feeling was weird and unusual since the word comfort has never existed in my entire life, at least not until this winter where I met him.

Meeting him was a miracle, a ten year’s worth of my luck.

I passed eighteen years of lonely and empty winters, summers, springs, and falls. All of the existing seasons doesn’t change anything, if it makes sense. Company of a person was never an option for me, nor did I ever tried to make it an option. Life situation forced me to becoming who I am, and I accepted it as it is. Though some of the times I questioned myself, what if I had the chance to live a better life? A life where I have a chance to feel all sorts of emotions? A life where everything doesn't remain repeated? A life where I don’t have to be alone.

And then there was silence, leaving my questions unanswered.

But this winter, for the first time, I felt emotions other than sadness and emptiness. I got my long awaited answers as I felt this little abnormal feeling of euphoria during the fall of the very first snow.

It was that day when I walking on my brown furry boots, both hands buried deep in the pocket of my jacket, strolling past the familiar pathway. I stared at the ticking brown watch enveloping my wrist, and the clock strikes ten. I let my head search for a particular vintage coffee shop, to see if I had to turn back due to my head’s unconsciousness. It was right across the street. And so I went for a scorching hot cup of coffee.

That morning, my coffee splattered though I haven’t took any sip out of it.

My fault.

I noticed this careless repetitive habit of mine, being overly lazy to carry a much needed bag with me. Instead, piles of daily necessities are piling on my two hands. That didn’t bring me any good, it brings me spilt coffee.

I sighed and stared down onto the floor of the scene I caused. A guy who seemed like the barista muttered a small “I’ll help clean this up” or something around that and begins mopping the white tiles. I stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do or what to say until he finally finished what he was doing. I muttered a small “thank you”, as it was the least thing I could say. He replied with a tight nod and left with an empty cup on his hand.

An inner debate took place in me, on whether or not do I buy another cup of coffee. I shook my head in the end and took a hundred and eighty degree turn to exit the cafe, yet an unfamiliar hand reached to offered me a small cup which highly screams coffee. My head snapped up to examine whoever that hand belonged to. A guy, a few inches taller than me wearing an all black outfit, as if a Korean Idol would wear. His whole face was hiding under an, obviously, black mask so all I could examine was his pretty eyes. I didn’t bring myself to accept what he offered.

“Take it”

Despite his unfriendly, cold-hearted guy his appearance shows, his voice was softer than anyone could have imagined. I stared into his hazel brown eyes, still standing there without an inch of movement. He gave a short sigh before reaching his unoccupied hand to encircle my wrist and guided it until the cup was clenched in my grip.

He left before I had the chance to say thank you.


—A month later

The library was surprisingly warm, unlike the brutal situation behind the windows. It was Saturday, a full day where I habitually spend all of my time reading. No questions should ever be asked on the reason why people likes to bury their noses between those thick pages. To me, books are a form of escape. A tool to help me escape my entangled thoughts and intrusive minds. It allows me to breathe, to take a moment of relief from all of the burden stacked against me.

I turned to page 29 and continued to avert my focus onto the printed words. It took around half a second for me to forget the world around me and get trapped between the sentences. Fifteen minutes went without notice until my disturbance came.

I felt a light weight on top of my head, and it soon became a hair tangling act of him. My attention got cut off and I snapped my head back, struggling to push away his strong arms which were on a mission to destroy my straight hair. He gave a small chuckle before slowly stroking my hair in order to tidy the strands of my hair.

“There, as good as new ma'am” he playfully snickered. I rolled my eyes, though lips were forming into a huge smile as he dragged the wooden chair beside me and sat down. And to my surprise, he flipped through the pages of a book in his hands, until it lands to a designated page. But barely after a nanosecond had passed, his vision focused on what I was doing instead.

“Another book? I thought you were starting to read a new one yesterday?”

I scoffed,

“I finished that one already, it was just 400 pages long”

“I started this book a week ago and I am literally still in my two hundred and fiftieth page”

“You’re just a slow reader” I retarded while I semi-glared at him, followed with a small giggle escaping my mouth after noticing his sudden change of expression. He shut his novel with a silent slam and grabbed my wrist ever so softly,

“Let’s go”

I frowned my eyebrows,

“Where? Let me finish this first before-”

“We can have more fun out there. Believe me when I say I won’t be the only one having fun” he convinced me, tugging gently on my wrist. For a boring bookworm like me, it’s an essential to hate spending my free time outside, especially during weathers like these. The me I knew wouldn’t want to step out of this small cozy comfort room to enter a deafening, crowded area. Yet despite the freezing surrounding, his warm hands guided me to experience a new side of the world I never learned from and about.

My shoes sank deeper and deeper in each step I took. I faintly felt the occasional bits of snow landing on my head and shoulders, the prickly cold sensation like rain splatters on my head made me shiver. He noticed, it was evident with the gentle furrow on his brows, and handed me a pair of gloves. The action ignited something deep in my stomach that left me feeling warm, a salvation to the cold that was engulfing my body. A scarf was also pulled out from his small bag and with two firm hands on my shoulders, he positioned me so that I was facing him. He gave me an eye smile that seemed to light up his entire face and wrapped the pastel scarf around my neck, his hands gentle and tentative. My hair received another ruffle after he was finished.

He intertwined our fingers and I felt my heart stop. The gray pathway I used to step on alone was now bleached with snow and it took me a while to realize I pretty much wasn’t alone. We walked in comfortable silence, my eyes darting everywhere but his direction. But when I gave a small glimpse of him, he seemed very fine and in control, unlike the person his hand was clutching onto.

“So, tell me, what do you want to be in the future?” his eyebrows furrowed. He was once again met with a loud silence. What do I want to be? No one has ever asked me that question, nor did I ever asked myself that question either. Do I have a dream? Do I have a future in me? For a long moment, all I did was to go along with where life takes me, no actual purpose and zero goals to achieve. And so I truthfully answered,

“I… never thought of it before”

“Why? You know, you make an amazing author” he replied. I laughed with a ‘Me? A good author? Impossible’ tone.

“How can you say that when you’ve never even see me write?” I talked back. His face turned somehow guilty, as if he did something unpleasing.

“I’ve seen your writings when you accidentally left your notebook open. It was a short poem, but you hit hearts in every syllable. And trust me I’m not saying this as a defense, I apologize for reading it without your consent but what I read was truly mesmerizing” his voice sounds convincing.

“I don’t know though.. I don’t think I’ll do any good with my writings”

“You should give more appreciation to yourself and maybe you will see how talented you are. If this path doesn't work out for you then I am a hundred percent sure you’ll excel in something else you enjoy doing. You should at least try, for me”

I was moved by the sincerity in his words and how he talks highly about the only thing I enjoy. Even though less than half of me believed in what he has said, it was pleasing to hear all of it. Especially from him. It took me a few moments enabling myself to give him a reply as the feelings inside me were on queue to be sorted out. I guess his impact on me was huge.


“You know, everyone has a future, even if they can’t seem to feel and acknowledge it”

I froze,

“How do you manage to know every single thought in my head?”

“Believe it or not, it’s easy for me to read you. You should try living a little and you’ll find joy. I can help you with it”

“Help me?”

“Yeah. And if after one day you can’t seem to find joy in your life then I’ll be one for you.”


The last day of winter

A familiar figure spotted sitting on a green bench underneath the oak tree. I ran, taking notice of the ground that is now solid, bits of ice are hardly spotted. I silenced my steps a few meters away from his spot and tiptoed behind him until the distance between us narrowed. Palming a medium sized snowball, it soon accelerates and breaks apart when it comes into contact with the back of his shoulders. He flinched.

I took a few strides with a growing smile plastered on my face. Although he was greeted in such an abnormal way, his face shows every other emotion rather than annoyance.

“Come sit” he said as his palm did small pats onto the green bench. I gave it a thought on that, and shook my head a little too aggressively. He may have wondered, but I immediately searched for his hands with a meaning to drag him up from his seat. He muttered a little word of disagreement, but eventually complied. Whilst taking tiny steps, I couldn’t help but to look back and stare at him as though something was wrong. Awfully wrong. He engaged with all of the small talks I initiated and his lips let out a dozen buckets of smiles and laughters, but it was his mind that wasn’t here. It has always been easy for me to read someone’s hidden emotions or forced expression even though no one taught me to, and maybe it’s the result of my oddity. Looking into him like that, it made me ponder where his mind flew to.

I tried throwing away every bad thoughts swarming my mind. I convinced myself that he’s only having a bad day. Maybe that was my mistake, maybe I should’ve noticed his dull eyes and pale lips sooner, maybe I should’ve seen the way his body shook like a fragile leaf with every step he took. I’ve always been an attentive person, yet to this day I still ask myself why I couldn’t see what was wrong with him.

“Something on your mind? You look a bit distracted.” I queried after a long minute of contemplating. I didn’t want to be a busybody, but the concern was eating me inside out. It felt so wrong to see him like this, to see his hazel brown eyes that were always full of life swirl with something concealed. Perhaps sadness?

He took a moment to give me a proper response and I waited patiently. I couldn’t help but to feel the anxiety creeping up on me.

He hummed, “Yeah, but don’t worry your pretty little head over it. We’ll be fine”


Another mistake of mine. I should’ve questioned him on his choice of pronouns instead of blushing like a mad man when he called me pretty.

"If you say so. Remember that I’ll always be here to listen if you want to talk.” I managed to say after a futile attempt to calm down my burning face. He gave a small nod and a big smile slowly washed over his features. I noticed how it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I know. You’ve always been there for me and I’m glad that it’s you” his voice fades a little. At this point, my whole body was alarmed that something was definitely out of the place. My heartbeat fastened and my lungs felt like like they were tied with a tight knot. I had another inner debate before asking another question of concern.

He smiled at me. And this time, he lets his invisible mask down. The sadness and grief in his eyes evidently shows to my bare eyes. I noticed how his body weakens even more and with his remaining energy, he reached for my right hand and squeezed it tight.

His eyes gleams with tears,

"I love you, now and forever” and his eyes shut close.

It felt as if my whole world crumpled underneath my toes. And for reasons I not know, I wasn’t alarmed with terror and accepted the fact that his life was gone before I managed to thank him that he had saved my life, that he had given me another chance to live with hope and dreams, that he introduced me to a place called happiness and joy. And before I managed to say that I love him with everything I’ve got.

Familiar touch of tears strolled uncontrollably beneath my eyes. I tightened my grip onto his hands where a hard something pressed back against my palm. My blurry vision catches a silver necklace with a snow pendant dangling from its chains. Another stinging stab into my heart, he had to choose this to remind me of our story that started this winter, during the fall of the first snow. But every part of me thanked him for this little something that’ll undoubtedly remind me of him.

I clenched my wrist against the silver necklace,

So this is where my first winter end.

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