Red
A Cup of Caramel Coffee (Jeti Collection)
A/N: Inspired to write this after hearing my blockmate recite a poem during one of our Literature classes. Happy Valentines Day!
RED
When you dip her in the middle of the dance floor, it is the color of her dress.
The dress was what caught my attention. The color was so vivid that it stood out in the sea of people. But the funny thing is...I can't even tell what color it was. The bright lights that flickered from one color to the next made it seem as if the dress was changing color as well. It was so pleasing to the eyes that I didn't noticed that I was walking towards it, attracted by the shifting of colors. The owner of that dress had unknowingly lured me towards her as she chatted with a few other girls. And before I knew it I was already on the dance floor with the owner of the dress without even remembering how I got there.
"So may I have the honor of knowing the name of my dance partner for tonight?" I heard her golden voice whisper huskily into my ear as she pulled my head closer to her face.
"It's Jessica." I replied, letting out a nervous breath that I didn't realize that I've been holding in the whole time.
"Jessica hmm? That's a nice name." she cooed.
I frowned, expecting her to introduce herself. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"
The girl only smirked. "No."
My frown became more evident. "I don't think that's fair when I told you mine."
She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer once again.
"Let me enjoy our dance first. If I want to see you again then I'll tell you my name."
Her challenge only encouraged me even further.
I took hold of her waist and gave her the dance she wanted.
The girl seemed surprised by my sudden fervor but smiled back at me in approval.
"You surprise me. For a girl with eyes that look bored, you sure do know how to dance."
I only chuckled back as I lead our bodies to move with the music. "There are more things to me that can surprise you."
The song was about to end so I finished our little dance by dipping her somewhat dramtically. She was slightly breathless and so was I.
"Not bad, Jessica." She smiled genuinely, her eyes shining with new found delight. "My name is Tiffany."
"Tiffany," I smiled, finally knowing her name. "Your dress is really nice, you know."
My upper body made a shadow as I hovered over her, blocking out the flickering lights from above. Without the changing lights, I finally figured out the color of her dress.
When she whispers in your ear, it is the color of her lips.
"What are you thinking about, Jessi?" Tiffany whispered in my ear, making me shiver but only the slightest.
"Nothing." I replied as I resumed reading my book.
Truth was, I was thinking about her. About the past four months since we first met. About the dates we've been going on together. About us having after those dates. About her moving with me in my apartment. About our relationship, this fling, whatever this was (I didn't know what this thing was to her. But that's okay because I didn't know either.) Everything that I was thinking at that moment was rooted and leading back to the main cause: Tiffany.
"I can tell that you weren't thinking about just nothing, Jessi." Tiffany whispered again.
I placed down my book and turned to face her. "Why do you keep whispering? It's just the two of us here in the living room and it's not like the neighbors would hear our conversation, you know."
Tiffany giggled. "Oh I don't think so, Jessi. Weren't they complaining just the other day about how loud our daily 'conversations' are?"
My breath hitched when I felt a hand slip into my shorts. I quickly pushed her hand away before it could venture any further.
"We are NOT going to start another 'conversation' right now, Tiffany."
She only giggled and spoke again in a soft voice, "I like whispering."
"You have a voice of a megaphone that's set on the loudest volume, Tiff." I pointed out.
I let out a high-pitched yelp as she pinched my arm and moved her head to whisper again into my ear. "I like whispering to you."
She gingerly held my chin and made me face her. My gaze slowly drifted towards her luscious lips. She was wearing lipstick.
"I like whispering only to you."
I can feel myself lacking air so I open my mouth to breathe. I also tried to say something so I wouldn't look like a gaping fish. Unfortunately, the first thing that came out of my mouth was the first thing I saw.
"Why are you wearing lipstick?"
"Does it matter?" Tiffany chuckled in amusement. "Besides, we ARE going to have another 'conversation' right now whether you like it or not so this lipstick will be all over your body in just a few minutes anyway."
And true to her words, I felt a pair of lips latching onto my neck and sooner on other parts of my body. The lipstick smearing across my skin like a crayon on paper.
When you make love, it is the trace you want her to leave all over your body.
She always leaves traces everywhere in the form of hickeys and scratches.
All over my neck.
Around my collarbones.
Behind my ear.
Below my hipbones.
Across my stomach.
On my back.
It was like she wanted to leave her mark on me, her constant reminder of telling me "YOU are MINE."
Was I even really hers?
We never placed a label on our relationship. So who were we to say that I belonged to her and she to I?
"Jessi..." Tiffany whispered.
I shut my eyes tight as her hands continued roaming all over my body. How was she still able to remain so calm while I was here beneath her writhing around in anticipation?
"T-Tiff..." I replied weakly.
She brought her lips close to my ear and whispered once again, "You belong to me."
Her words sank slowly into my head. She said "You belong to me", not "You belong with me".
There was a big difference.
"You belong to me," she repeated. I gasped when I felt her gently bite my ear, surely leaving another mark. "Do you understand, Jessi?"
I nodded breathlessly, feeling her satisfied smile as she kissed me hungrily.
"You're mine."
And as I came undone, I thought "Screw labels. I don't care if I don't rightfully belong to her or not. I already submitted myself to her willingly anyways."
When she places her palm over your heart, it is the color that comes to the surface as her fingertips trail like a sentence that can never be finished.
I woke up and shivered to the feeling of slender fingers gently tracing across my skin. I fluttered my eyes open and saw Tiffany already awake, resting her head on my chest.
"Tiffany? What are you doing?"
"Shh...Be quiet. I'm listening."
"To what?"
"Jessi, I told you to be quiet. I'm listening to your heart."
I spoke more quietly this time. "Why?"
She brought her ear closer to where my heart was. "I like the beating of your heart." she whispered. "It's like a song lulling me to sleep. It makes me feel safe and protected."
A certain warmth arose in my heart. I don't know if she could've felt that but I'm sure she must've heard my heart beating louder and faster.
It's always been like this when Tiffany came into my life.
Tiffany, the girl who likes pink too much. The girl who's afraid of harmless bugs but teases me when I'm terrified of cucumbers. The girl who has a warm heart but can be just as cold as me when she has to. The girl who was the exact opposite of me but fits so well into my life. The girl, despite her flaws, who seemed to still be so perfect.
She was so beautiful. I realized that she was a sight I wanted to see every morning when I wake up. I realized that I can and that I want to spend every breathing moment with her. I realized that...
"I lo-"
"Don't say it." she shushed. "Please..."
I was confused and a little bit hurt and disappointed. But I nodded my head.
The words I wanted to say faded into the cold air as she rested her head back on my chest and trailed her finger on my skin again, writing words that formed into sentences that were never finished.
When you see her in your room with another, it is the color of your breath.
I ran.
My doctor advised me that I shouldn't run because I had anemia so too much exhaustion wouldn't be good for my health.
But I still ran.
It was cold and it was dark and it was raining. I was breathing so hard that I could see the steam coming out of my mouth with every breath that I exhaled.
I ran faster and faster.
Nobody was walking in the streets anymore because it was raining at it was already late at night (or maybe it was early in the morning. I wasn't sure. I didn't know how long I've been running.) So there was just me and the cold and the dark and the rain.
I ran and I ran and I ran.
Where was I going? I didn't know. Where was I now? I didn't know. Why was I running? Because I saw Tiffany and a guy having a steamy kiss in our bedroom when I got home from work.
I stopped running.
I fell to my knees. I was having a hard time breathing. The steam from my mouth was still cold. I exhaled for one last time. I think I heard her calling out my name. Everything went black.
When you smash the vase in the hall, it is the color that threatens you to abandon the shattered pieces.
It came from Persia and was said to be a hereditary artifact from the kings of the first Persian kingdom, the Achaemenid empire, dating back to 550 BCE.
Or at least, that's what the annoying man at the yard sale said.
I mean, really...who would sell a very rare artifact for just twelve thousand won? Honestly, it looked like it was just a regular vase that was painted (very crudely, if I may add) with what was supposed to be ancient Persian characters (it looked more like a bunch of squiggles made by a seven year old)
I didn't want to buy the stupid thing. I wouldn't have any use of it. But the seller was so persistent and annoying ("Twelve thousand won for just this artifact, Miss! It will bring good luck, I tell you! You're whole life will depend on this vase!"). So I shoved the money into his hands, grabbed the vase, and immediately went home before he could sell me any more of his "legendary" artifacts.
But the vase was now in shattered pieces on the floor, not a few feet away from where I threw it.
Had I thrown it a little more to the right then it would have hit Tiffany's face instead of the wall behind her.
But I could never do that.
"J-Jessica, you're s-scaring me..." Tiffany quivered.
I was panting hard, a result of our incessant shouting at each other during our argument earlier. My eyes were stuck to the pieces of the broken vase, realizing what I had done...realizing what I could have done...realizing that I had almost hurt her.
I looked at her and saw a terrified expression on her face as if I was a monster.
What have I done? I am a monster.
I fell to my knees, completely distraught. "I......I'm s-sorry, Tiff....I am so so sorry.....I didn't mean to, I swear....I.....I could never ever h-hurt you...."
I didn't realize that my hands were on the floor, trying to support my weight, until I saw a small pool of blood spreading across the white tiles. I lifted up my bloody hands only to find out that I was tightly clutching a few pieces of the broken vase.
I used my hands to cover my eyes, not caring if the blood messily stained my face as it mixed with my tears.
"I could never hurt you even if you're already hurting me." I whispered while trembling.
I could never hurt Tiffany even if I tried to.
I guess that's why I end up hurting myself instead.
When you scream at the top of your lungs, it is the color that pierces the atmosphere.
I was usually a quiet and reserved person.
But here I am screaming in pain.
Pain in my heart.
Pain caused by Tiffany.
Pain caused by me.
Pain caused by the both of us.
I screamed because it was too much to bear.
I had to let it out.
But my screaming only did little to ease the pain that I felt.
I thought that by screaming at her, shouting at her, yelling at her.....I thought that maybe she would listen. I thought that she would understand. I thought that she would change.
But I thought wrong.
Tiffany didn't listen. She didn't understand. She didn't change.
So now, not only my heart was damaged, but my vocal chords as well.
When she hears you, it is the color of her pulse.
"I'm tired, Tiffany." I said in a strained voice.
It was only a whisper but I'm sure that she heard me clearly.
But all she did was just stare at me.
"I don't want to be tired anymore."
"What are you trying to say, Jessica?"
I tightened my fists and lifted my head to see her eye to eye.
"We need to end this."
I saw her stiffen. I could almost feel the pulse of her heart pause for a moment, like a traffic light signaling cars to stop.
"W-what if I don't want this to end?"
I laughed bitterly. "Don't fool yourself, Tiffany. We both knew that it would all come down to this."
The room fell silent.
I counted the seconds till the deafening silence was interrupted.
Forty-six...
Forty-seven...
Forty-eight...
Forty-nine...
Fifty...
Fifty-one...
Fifty-two...
Fif-
"Okay."
When you look in her eyes for the last time, it is the fading color of your heart falling to your knees.
So this is it then?
"I'm going now."
This is how it's going to end.
"It was nice knowing you, Jessica."
I looked into her eyes, engraving the memory into my head, wanting for this moment to never end because I knew that it was the last.
"Goodbye."
I never knew how much those words could hurt me when it came from her.
She pulled her coat closer, hiding her face further under the collar as she walked away without even looking back once.
She didn't even give me the chance to say goodbye.
But even if she did, I don't think that I could ever say it.
I could never tell her goodbye knowing that I could never say hello to her again.
I watched her retreating figure until it was just a tiny speck.
The thought of running after her crossed my mind a lot of times as I watched her leave.
My heart told me, "You should run after something you love."
My brain commanded me, "Run after her, you idiot."
But my body remained frozen in place, my knees refusing to move, my feet planted firmly on the ground.
It hurts me to know that I was allowing her to walk out of my life so easily.
The last thing I saw was the back of her red coat.
But all I saw was the color gray.
It is not the color you see when she leaves.
THE END
A/N: My blockmate got the poem from this tumblr post:
Okay so well it's not exactly your regular kind of poem but it's still a great piece of writing with very-well said words 
Funny, isn't it? I'm a reader who doesn't like reading angst fics but I'm a writer who writes it anyway. I'm sorry for writing angst fics lately ^^ Believe me, when I started writing Jeti fics, I swore that I would never write angst. But angst in literature is like tragedy in Greek dramas. It is more successful in moving people's emotions because everyone can relate to pain even though they don't want to experience it. But anyway, I'm writing a fluff to compensate for this 
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