Keep Me in a Photograph

Hey, guys. So I joined an event called EreRi Secret Santa on Tumblr and this is my gift to my giftee. I decided to post it here so, yeah. I hope you enjoy this.

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday to Levi Ackerman!

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I met my husband—well, not husband. At least not yet, but soon—in a way that I never thought of. Since I was a kid, I've been imagining situations about how I would meet the person that I would spend the rest of my life with. I wouldn't deny that it became more common once I reached my teens, with the abundant amount of romance novels my mother, Carla, has and it watered what little imagination I had. From meeting in a coffee shop, being classmates, saving the other from some shitty situation and other cliché events.

You could blame my parents for that. I grew up seeing them sickeningly in love with each other, and I could testify that up until now, they're so head-over-heels for each other that it made my bitter self more bitter. There's not a day in my life where I wouldn't see my father leave a kiss on my mother's forehead before my mother reciprocate it with a kiss on his cheek. Of course there were fights, but they never went to bed without resolving their problem.

'I want that kind of love', that's what I kept on telling myself. Of course, while it isn't impossible, it's hard to find. Only those who were lucky could find such strong, pure love. But I want it. I want to be with someone who I could love so deeply that I would want to live for as long as I could just to be with them. I want a love that wouldn't extinguish even after a strong storm comes to destroy everything. I want a love that would make me feel giddy and in cloud nine even when I'm old and grey.

But that's the thing. I want it. However, I wasn't sure if I would get it. But hell, I really want it. I tried wishing to falling stars, tried wishing whenever I saw 11:11 (not that I really waited for it. No. It's just that whenever I check the time, it's always 11:10. Jean is the only one who said otherwise), fuck, I even did my best to be good for the year just to wish on Santa Claus. At the age of twenty-three, without any real relationships except a few flings and both girls and boys wanting to get into my pants, I could pretty much guess that my dream isn't exactly going to happen.

I was proved wrong on one lonely Christmas night. I was out late that night, choosing to roam around the city and capture some pictures rather than spend the remaining of the night with my family. I already welcomed Christmas with them, eating and exchanging gifts with them, so it wasn't like I'm going to miss anything. With my camera secured by the strap resting on my neck, I looked around the street to look for anything aesthetically pleasing.

The whole place was white, covered by piles and piles of snow. It hang heavy on the bare trees, scrunches against my boots as I tread along the pavement. There weren't many people outside, most opting to choose to spend their time in the warm comfort of their home rather than freeze in the streets. I was thankful that I wore layers of sweater and a comfortable yet warm boots. Mikasa, my younger sister, didn't fail to remind me to wear a scarf before she let me go with a kiss on my cheek.

Licking my chapped lips, I pulled out my lip balm from the pocket of my coat, applying some on my lips before I returned it to its previous place. To be honest, I didn't really want to spend the rest of my evening wandering the streets with my camera. However, the never ending questions about my nonexistent love life forced me to leave. I couldn't count with all of my fingers the amount of times they asked me when I'm going to be married, then asking me why I didn't have a girlfriend when I'm such a handsome young man whenever I answer not in the near future. Seeing my parents being all sweet and loving is enough to make me see that I really am alone in life. No need to rub salts on my wounds.