Maybe it's you, maybe it's me || Markjin

Bonus <To you>

//Hello! Merry Christmas everyone.

And WAIT! Before you read this, please know that this is not the bonus chapter for 'Maybe it's you, Maybe it's me".

This is one-chaptered story that I wrote last year. It is 'mark-jin', but you don't have to read it if you don't want to.

As I am a lazy ass, I don't want to create another new story and upload. So, I just posted here.

Please don't get mad at me for not uploading the bonus chapter of 'Maybe it's you, maybe it's me'. I have already written it but it was not Christmas theme. So, I will upload it later. Hehe.//

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"Kiss me right now." You said. "We are under the mistletoe!"

Yes, you were right.

We were under the mistletoe.

I smiled when you put your arms around my neck. And we kissed. It was short, yet sweet.

I said I love you and you whispered back too.

"I love you" The world didn't hear it but I heard, so it's enough.

You wore that scarf I gave you on our third date.

We didn't have sex that night. We made love. "Let's move to the bed" I said, but you didn't listen.

"Just one more minute." So, I gave up and we cuddled all night on the sofa, until you wake up to your phone alarm and rushing out for shower because the next day was Monday and you were late for work.

I was still sleeping when you gave me a morning kiss on my forehead before you left.

Those mornings after Christmas were always good.

Those three years with you were good.

I loved how cold the weather was on December. I remembered how we grabbed that hot chocolate and free cookies at the café near the MRT station, on the way back to home from work.

I loved that you always held my hand, so that I could put our hands in my pocket.

We have never decorated the Christmas tree before. All we had was the small one to place on the table. I know you have always wanted the big one but I didn't allow you to have one. 

"I hate you." you said with your lips pouted. But you were just joking, I knew. Instead of the tree, I bought you a book that you have always wanted to read.

You used to love reading it till this year.

You used to love drinking hot chocolate till this summer.

You used to pout and say "I hate you" but you were joking. I thought it was just a joke, till that Thursday evening.

"I hate you" you said it again.

Everything happened so fast and I don't know where we went wrong, where I went wrong. I said nothing and watched you leave. I was so surprised at how easily you could walk away from me. 

Maybe it was about those nights when you came home late, or that you start drinking black coffee you used to hate.

Maybe it was when you called you will be late on our third anniversary. You never showed up.

Or maybe it was the phone call you always had at night at the kitchen while I was sleeping.

I could ask you who it was from the other line but my tongues got tied every time.

That night, my thoughts were all over the place, from when we first met to how you broke my heart last a few hours ago.

I slept on the same sofa, on which we used to cuddle. It smelled like you, fresh and warm.

I didn't cry, tears were not flowing yet my heart was breaking into pieces.

We didn't talk the whole week, until you came and searched for me at my work, only to say you were moving out.

"Why didn't you stop me when I left? You never loved me, did you?" that's the first thing that you said. Your eyes were cold when you accused me for not loving you. All of the sudden, I had to close my eyes because that's when the tears started to flow down.

Of course, I did love you.

But I wouldn't stop you when you left because I knew you wouldn't stay.

I didn't say anything back afterwards. We both looked outside trying to avoid any eye contact.

But I did tell you I love you so you gave me a last hug outside of the café and you smelled like another person.

I don't know when you moved out but that one day when I came back from work, half of the room is empty, except that book and a scarf that I bought you.

You may smell like the new person now, but those thing that you left, still have the scent of you. My bed still had your warmth, so, I covered myself with the blanket, showering myself with your scent and cried to sleep.

Eight months has gone but I still have this thought, wondering if you would stay if I let you bring the Christmas tree at our apartment.

Maybe you wouldn't leave if I start drinking black coffee with you.

Or maybe I should have gone a trip with you. If I did, maybe you might not meet that someone who gave you a red mark on your neck.

But those are just some impossible scenarios because at the end, no matter how hard I try, you would choose him over me.

I would never blame you for kissing another person behind me.

Because love could be anything and you were happy with him.

So, I swallow all my love, locked inside my chest and walk around the city like we used to. 

It's Christmas again and I was under the mistletoe but you were not here.

I grabbed the hot chocolate from the same old café and went back to my apartment, to finish packing my things.

But I will leave that scarf and a book at your workplace, I can't carry them around while I can still feel your touches on every page.

In a few days, I will move to new town, somewhere a bit far from those mistletoe trees beside the street, somewhere that does not have a café selling hot chocolate and somewhere that does not remind me of you.

If you are reading this now, you might probably be thinking I am such a fool to write like a letter like a story, just to give you a book and scarf.

Sure, call me a fool but please don't throw them away. Read it with your new lover, so that you can tell him how beautiful the ending of the book is.

Keep it as the present from someone who loved you so much.

Just like I said, love could be anything. Mine was beautifully tragic. So, I hope yours is just like the ending of the book. Beautiful and sweet.

And lastly, try not to catch a cold in this weather. I know you hate wearing gloves but please, at least do it for me as the last time. 

I will end my letter here since it's pretty long.

And, it is pretty late but I wish you Merry Christmas.

Love,

Mark.

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//This is sad, I know. I am very sorry if I ruined your mood on Christmas. And I am not very good at writing this kind of sad stories, so thank you so much for reading it till the end. 

See you next time.//