It was 2 in the afternoon as the streets were as busy as ever even in the downpour. Sitting by the window seat was a young lady who was drowning in her second coffee, staring into the dark and gloomy sky. Her face void of any emotion as if her mind was as clear as a blank canvas.
Her hand unintentionally reached out for her phone and checked it. She paused and scoffed as something clicked in her mind. How many times had she found herself checking her phone, she lost the count, as if she was expecting something. Someone.
"Withdrawals really are the hardest."
She muttered to herself.
"Meow…."
A cat's mew took her attention. Her white furry friend must've noticed the gloominess of his companion as it rubbed his head and wrap his tail at her leg.
"Milk. Are you comforting me?"
She bent down to pat the kitty. But as soon as she started giving attention to him, he just walked away as if he was not the one who started acting all cute and stuffs.
"Huhh…" She sighed as she stood up straight as her eyes followed the swaying hips of the cat.
She was not surprised. Milk was a stray just a year back. He was not used to being patted and hugged.
Then she remembered a figure a cat used to love laying on to.
Well. At least he did not want her attention.
Taking her mind off the kitty, she looked into the studio apartment. A mess it was, with dozens of boxes lying all around the room. Everything that were not of immediate needs were already packed. If not for the heavy storm, she would've moved out today. Another day in this room was another day of torture, drowning in countless memories that she never knew she even had in her mind. Now that she wanted to forget, it was coming one after another.
"Let's get back to work." She encouraged herself.
Thinking that getting busy would help her, she decided to start packing her clothes. She entered her bed room, and opened the wardrobe and a pulled out all the clothes indiscriminately and placed them on her bed.
One by one, she started to fold them and staked them up at the chair besides her bed. But as she pulled up a white T-shirt, her fingers traced the stain which she had tried washing several times, yet stubbornly hugged the white fabric.
"I didn't get him a shirt in the end." She whispered to herself.
Her sight slowly turned blurry as her breath became short. She could no longer hold herself anymore. It started with a single drop slowly streaming down her porcelain skin, hanging on the cliff of her jaw, until it fell and became a darkened spot on the shirt. Then the rest followed until it became unstoppable. She hugged the shirt to her chest as she sobbed, finally letting out what she had been holding back since he walked out the door.
No. Since she let him go. It was her. She was the one who asked for this..
He appeared one day, in her life, when she felt the night was particularly darker and the sky as gloomy. Even under the dim light, he was shining. Bright. Like a diamond amongst stone.
And she was a raven attracted to his luster.
But a selfish soul she was, overwhelmed with his light that shone, yet feared to embrace his warmth. A constant voice reminding her at the end of the day, when the light has gone to sleep and the darkness spreads it wing.
"You don't deserve him. His light. His warmth. His …. You belong in the darkness. As always you have."
But her selfishness wanted his radiance to belong to her.
Until she saw his brilliance engulfed with shadow under her flight.
'We really don't belong together.'
She still remembers that Christmas Eve. She was in his arms, under the cover of the dark moonless sky. Neither not mining the chilling snow underneath them. She told him then,
"My life is filled with flaws. Meeting me has become the only imperfection in your otherwise perfect life."
To which he stared into her eyes and gave her the sweetest kiss he had given. As if he was pulling her into his very soul and showering her with his endless warmth.
"Well… You are the perfect imperfection I need in my life."
She was the one who told him to end what they had. She didn't want to hold him back. She didn't want to become the stain in his clear life.
When she asked him to not meet again, he didn't ask any question. And she was glad he didn't. Because she had no answers. Even if she did, she wouldn't have been able to answer him.
He just stood there, looking at her without a word as if he was taking in her image and painting it into his mind. His memories. When the time of his depart finally arrived, she couldn't say goodbye to him.
Neither did he.
She still remembers his last words before he left.
"Ah Yue… You are the perfect imperfection I needed in my life. And… It'll never change."
Days turned to months as she kept telling herself it'll get back to where it was before she met him. She could get back to how she was. Free and wild. That she'll forget him soon enough and she just needed sometime. But her heart seems to hurt more and more with each day passing by.
She had forgotten how she was before he entered her life. Before he smiled at her wishing 'good morning' and kissing her goodnight. Before his warm hands held hers as they crossed the sidewalks. Before she stared at his back as he got busy in the kitchen. Before she felt his touch, his kiss, his laughter… Before she felt the joy he brought in her life…
Now that he was no more with her, she was lost. Lost in her own darkness. And heart turned cold.
She now wishes his hug. His woody scent. His soft lips. His everything.
Had she known she loved him this much, would she have fought against every odd to be with him?
No.
She was a coward after all. She feared he'd come to see more of her flaws.
She doubted him. That he would regret being with her. That he would blame her one day.
She regretted it. She regretted meeting him that night. If she could turn back time, she would not have gone to the gig that night. She wouldn't have pick up the call. She wouldn't have shown him her broken self which she didn't want anyone to see.
Then she wouldn't have seen his light. Wouldn't have feel his warm, his gentle care.
Why? Why wasn't she more selfish? Why did she care what his life would be in future? Why did she ignore the silent plea his eyes were making to her before he walked out the door?
Why did he have to be someone she can't have?
He told her that nobody's life could be perfect. But he was perfect. He told her that she was his perfect imperfection. But she was simply a stain, like the one on the white T-shirt.
And before anyone could see this stain, she had to wash it off. Hide it.
She had to let him go.
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