Another spring, another summer and another winter without her. He doesn't bother asking, he's too occupied with the waiting. It's not a denial, but he's afraid that he might be disappointed if he were to ask her why; why always going, why it takes you so long, why bother looking for something when she can't see it.

The clock strikes eleven pm, it's habit already to rarely goes out because she perhaps find her way to his house, that she perhaps ready to apologize and never running away again. It's time for him to go to bed--couch. Because the couch is closer to the door.

-

One grey morning, gloomy and heavy, with faint white covering the air as small but fat drops falling from the sky, the lights seem like small pearls from afar, he's counting red lights from a few buildings when he hears a knock from the door--tender, slow and uncertain. He runs to the door, mumbling 'maybe it's not her, but maybe it is, it may be not too, I should'-- but it's her; trembling with her small and slender figure, tall and firm just like him, no shoes so he can see small scars and dried blood clearer (he cringes because his heart clenches), her hands clenching loosely by her side, her white dress (she's still wearing it?) is a wreck, dirty, with eyes drooping low from tiredness but staring at the ground, her jet black hair matted to her forehead, she perfectly mirrors him; not ready, but she can't run away because now steel-like arm trapping her from going any way--moving even a finger. Her first tear seeping into his neatly-ironed tee shirt.

-

It was her birthday, it was late February and it was cold. He brought her favorit cake, sang her a happy birthday, and sat beside her to accompany her better. She was staring at the cake bluntly, the tiny glow from the candles made her beautiful eyes ablaze just like how when she was determined. She made her wish and blowing the the cake instead of the candles. So he lifted her chin and told her to blow again.

After two slices of cake, they talked about what gift he got for her. It was her that didn't want to celebrate it with others than him, because she trusted no one but him. Maybe a soft spot for him too. (but she's not going to risk it)

Ready for the midnight, he confessed to her out of the blue saying that he liked her since high school, from her eyes still as beautiful and lively without any candles, until tonight, because tonight he found out already that he loved her. That he was ready to even sacrifice the world he sees for her. She cried, thinking that it was a cry because of happiness, she abruptly stood up and pushed her foot back as far as possible from him (how can she knows anyway?) and replied him between sobs: do you know what I wished for? For you to not love me. Because our relationship will end just like others', in the end you'll leave me alone. So just stay friends, it'll hurt less. At least, for me.

So he replied: I would never leave you--
She cut: You will, don't tell me you wouldn't because you know nothing! You'll realize that I worth nothing by your side and you'll be gone, just like everything I had.
No! He had snapped. I wouldn't leave you, I wouldn't mind--
A tear felt effortlessly from her eyes.
You wouldn't mind, but one day you would, and I'm afraid that's the day you're going to leave me..alone.
He sent quite, he didn't know what to tell her that it didn't matter whether she could see him or not, whether she could see how beautiful she was every single day, whether she could feel how much he loved her. It was so much that his heart was going to burst and his chest was going to explode. Because all he wanted was her, her vices and her virtue, her abilities and her disabilities, her heart and not only her presence.

He took too long to think about a way he could probably make her sure that he loved her, so nothing stopped her shuffling of her foot out to the door, sobs that were loud enough for him to hear, and his heart twisted. And something that is twisted hurt way much worse than something that is broken.

And she ran away. Who knows where. That was being the last time he saw her. Until today.

-

The tears were still visible on her cheek, make him more guilty and back to the thought what would happen if he could turn the hands of time backward and live the past as the present? She grips his arms like her life depend on it. But maybe it is.

"I'll bath you."
She shakes her head.
"You're just like a ball of dirt."
She shakes her head one more time. She hiccups.
And just like that, he picks her hand and make her follow him to the bathroom.

-

One bath packed with warm water, he opens the zip of her dress from the front and let it slide from her body, as she immediately covers it. Telling that it wouldn't be necessary to bath her because it isn't necessary to take care of her. He lets it slide and continue to get her rest of the pieces of clothing off her.

He can't see anything, her hands busy embraced her self. Making him blind by what beyond them.

He pushes her so gently to the bathtub and grabs a soap. her back lovely with no force makes her shivering because it is so tender. Washing her hair and mumbling that I miss you and don't mind what I said--too--long ago because I don't want you to leave me again. She nods, but little that he knows, this time she cries because she loves him.

He makes his soapy hand way through her calves, decides not to go up and up to her thighs. He lunges forward slowly and washes her feet, rubs through the fingers and she leans back, feeling comfortable and overwhelmed affection for her. He goes back to his spot beside her, crouch down, and washes her face with his hand. She looks taken aback, but leans into the touch immediately.

After one long moment, he stays behind, afraid that she may be asleep in the bathtub, she makes sure that she wouldn't and leaves her to think things for her self.

-

He chooses a brown towel from the rack and wraps it around her body, smiling and saving her hand on his, rounding her waist.

He covers her body with his clothes and no pants because it closes her body until midthigh.

He feeds her, chewing ever so slowly but he is patient enough to wait for her. Five minutes is something he can easily bear because how about this whole year he had been waiting for her? He laughs, not because it was a bitter memory, rather 'it was a memory'.

After a plate, and complaining that she's still hungry, he cooks her another meal and takes his seat beside her again. Ruffling her hair before he smiles.

"Are you smiling?" she asks, a slight hint of amusement's clear for him.
"I am. You don't know how much happy I am that you're here."
She shots her hands forward slowly, reaching for his face. Feeling his sculpted face with sharp jaw, sharp nose, thin cheeks but warm lips using her fingertips. A sideway shape of his lips being them to stay on. Her smile looks sad, but he knows more than that.
"I missed you too."
"Didn't you hate me?"
Silence.
"How can I hate someone that I understand?"
So he kisses her lips, chastely but not barely there. She continues eating and he continues to feed her.

Night's going to dawn upon the city, dark blue sky already changing the orange and pink one. Dots of not bright stars start to sprinkle on the sky. Appreciating two humans back in each other arms. But why is it not bright? It might have reduce together with the rise of the apprehension. Not heavy, but somehow it's a burden.

-

At night (finally he leaves the damn couch), he scoops her very close to his chest and kissing her hair every now and then. She only giggles and tells him to stop, she's tired and sleep may be her only cure.

Now that he thinks about it, they haven't really talked about it.

"Why.." he cuts himself off. Not sure what to start with.
"What?" her voice is soft and merely a whisper but he hears it perfectly in this deafening silence.
"Are you..staying?"
"I was never meant to leave you. I just..got..lost, I guess."
"A year to find me when you know where to find me?"
There's no reply.
"I thought I was forgotten."
"Never."
He knows it that she was intending another subject, but he didn't mind it.
"I was afraid." she says, her voice dripping with sleepiness. And perhaps, something more.
"I was afraid that I was being forgotten."
"No, you were afraid because of the unknown."
She nods.
"Good night." she hugs his waist.

A minute later, he lets her arm back to her side and backfacing him. A small gap coming after.

Just before he sleeps, he hears her mumbling (he's not sure if he was dreaming), she's not hoping to be heard by him though.
"I was afraid of being forgotten, because I need you to.."
She heaves a shuddering breath.
"..Yifan"

-

In the morning, he wakes up with no trace of her at all: the dress isn't there to find, the bathroom's clean just like how he left it before she came, the brown towel's back in his rack. Not even a single note. He starts to wonder though if she was even there with him to begin with.
 

He discovers it now just as he sits up on his bed this morning, that it wasn't him that loves her most, but her, that loves him most.

He doesn't feel the tears that's necessary to spew forth, no twisted heart again, nothing, just like his heart before he fell for her. As he stirs his morning coffee, he didn't ask if she got lost in her own mind or way to come back home; and if she promised him to have herself stand in front of his door again (because he doesn't matter if she comes home worst than before.)

He doesn't bother to ask, also he doesn't bother to wait for the umpteenth time anymore. He wasn't tired--he's just thinking that he wasn't tired.

(He wasn't dreaming about her mumbling that night and maybe a year is a time enough for him to feel numb without her presence.)

fin.

A/N: Uuuulala, omg I give damns, who cares? I care for what you think of this story alright. This's only a drabble, I guess? Butttt, just like what I said before, drabble doesn't exist in my dictionary, ugh. I love you people! Please do write what you think, upvote if you'd like too<3<3

Aisyah, nih selesai kan? Wle