Memorizing Me (A Valentine's Day One-shot Special)

I’m pretty sure we almost broke up last night

I threw my phone across the room, at you

We fought last night. Again.

I couldn’t even count the number of times we’ve fought this week. We fought because of the littlest of things – from his car keys to my hair brush to our bathroom schedules. There are times when I thought that our rows have become too silly already, but still, we fought. It was almost like a daily routine.

Last night, I was just so mad at him for not answering any of my calls. I mean, who wouldn’t be mad if your boyfriend hadn’t answered your twenty-two missed calls and thirty-five text messages and you found out that he was in a club with his friends and other women? God, I was so pissed.

My boyfriend and I live together in an apartment near the university we’re studying in after our parents had finally agreed that we could be together as long as we promised not to ‘do the deed’ yet (and I tell you, we absolutely haven’t). It wasn’t much, but we call it ‘home’.

When he came back home, instead of my usual kiss on his cheek as a greeting, I welcomed him with screams and curses that had probably reached the ears of our neighbours. But I didn’t really care—I was so furious at him that I had almost thrown my phone at his head. Good for him that I had stopped myself from doing anything that would hurt him (even though I really wanted to punch him on his throat).

I was expecting some dramatic turn away

But you stayed

What I expected from him would be retorts and more screams, maybe even a slap or two (but he never did anything like that ever since we’ve been together) but all he did was listen to me as I ranted about the missed calls and how he was being such an irresponsible boyfriend. I expected that he would mock me for overthinking things. I even expected that he would break up with me last night because I had called him awful names and I had actually slapped him on the cheek twice, but he did one thing that really surprised me.

After my rant, I took a deep breath and I had looked away from him, but I could feel his eyes on me. “You know, you look prettier when you smile. You look funny when you cry,” he said, which was quite funny, but I wasn’t sure if I should’ve gotten offended by what he had told me.

He tried to reach for my face to wipe the tears that had spilled from my eyes, but I had stepped back from him and turned my face away, not wanting him to see that I was utterly hurt. I didn’t want to cry even more just by looking at his face.

I was expecting that he would start packing his things up and leave me there sobbing my eyes out, but that wasn’t what really happened.

After all the things that I had told and did to him, he still stayed.

This morning, I said we should talk about it

‘Coz I know you should never leave a fight unresolved

And that’s when you came in wearing a football helmet

And said, “Okay, let’s talk.”

Because of our fight last night, he decided to sleep on the couch while I slept in our bedroom, which gave me a bit of time to think things through. We have done this routine before, but that night was different. I remembered that the day after was Valentine’s Day—our second anniversary. I was certain that it would be very awkward by the time both of us would wake up.

On the morning, I spotted him sipping black coffee from his mug. Hesitantly, I walked towards him and made a soft coughing sound to alarm him of my presence. He did notice me, and turned his head towards my direction.