With You

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Just a story of a young couple. Loving since they were kids. Young, immature love to old, immature love. Just a story of life.

Romance / Drama
3.7 4 reviews
Age Rating:

Chapter 1: Morning

I open my eyes with no thoughts. I’m too happy to think about anything. White walls, white floor, white bed, white sheet, white comforter, white curtain, white veranda, white sand, and you in the white baggy top. Sun is still sleeping inside the sea. I guess it’s about 6 in the morning.

I see you through the white transparent curtain that doesn’t even block out the hot sun in the summer. You are not good at noticing. I’m looking at you for 15 minutes, and you don’t turn around. I can’t see but I’m pretty sure you’re drinking yuzu tea that you drink at least once in a day. I didn’t like yuzu at first but you made me a yuzu addict just like you made me you-addict. I think you are looking at the beach without a footstep: clean sand, undisturbed, and peaceful. I enjoy the sound of our quiet beach. It soothes me. I think you like it too.

You are finishing your tea very slowly just like the way your allure seized me, very slow but fully and eternally. You are a downtempo kind of person. You move at a very slow pace and I love it because I can observe every movements. You move like a lazy, innocent princess. Your movements are sleepy, perhaps, quite dreamy. That makes you unique and fills you up with peculiar beautiness. Your limbs are skinny, so they look more longer. Your skinny limbs and fingers make your movements more elegant.

You slowly turn around with the flow of morning breeze. Your hair is waving me a good morning. Now you notice me staring at you on our white bed in our white themed house. You smile. Your smile is like a cup of fresh orange juice. It wakes me up with freshness. Your unadulterated beauty is what I love the most about you. You walk through the curtain; you don’t even bother to remove the curtain to clear the way. You are keep gazing at me with your smile. I’m trying to hold my laugh but I couldn’t. Fuck. I can’t beat you in this game, you make me laugh. You look away from me with victorious smile and walk downstairs to put away the yuzu tea cup.

I put on my ivory colored henley neck shirt and a grey sweat shorts. I walk down the stairs to where our kitchen, living room, and dining room are. You tie your hair up to a bun. I love your natural look.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

You are staring at me with silence. Little smile too.

“I’ll make a breakfast.” I say it because I can never beat you in staring game.

You say with your lovely voice, “I’m going to sit on the counter and just watch you.”

I smile happily and start to prepare for the breakfast. I open the refrigerator and take out the eggs, butter, and cheddar cheese. I spread the butter on a frying pan. I crack the eggs on the pan. I wait until the eggs turn to yellow then I pour handful of cheddar cheese. I roll the eggs to make it into the shape of omelette. I put it on a white plate. I cook mine and put it on a white plate. You put our plates on the contemporary wooden dining table. You open the curtains and windows for a beautiful morning beach view and the sound of waves. The sound of waves is not enough. You walk to the living room. You are picking out a vinyl. It takes you only 5 seconds to pick out an album. You put it on the record player. You play it. Of course it is Back to Black album by Amy Winehouse. You skip 5 songs to play “Love is a losing game”. You quickly walk to the dining room and sit down to eat breakfast. Before you eat you look at me and give me a naughty but cute smile. I laugh and start to eat.

I love watching you eat. You are like a baby.

You say, “It’s delicious. Look at this cheese.” You are stretching the cheese with your teeth.

I use my fork to cut it and put the one end in my mouth. I slowly eat the cheese to get closer to you and I give you a quick kiss. You laugh like a baby.

“Love is a losing hand, Though I battled blind, Love is a fate resigned.”

Shut up Amy. You are wrong. Love is not a fate resigned. But love is a losing game.

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