#you don’t like my clothes but you still like my smile…. scrawny mf with a cool hairstyle….

[10piecechickenmcnugget]

had a sudden overwhelming need to draw her

[gills-corn]

Memory washes over my brain as I hold your hand for the last time.

I remember when we spent our days under the sun, each smelling like sunshine after. I remember when our clothes sticking to our skin after playing under the rain, our shrieks resounding after the thunders and lightning.

I remember the nights we spent on the rooftop, our hands clasped like they are now, pointing out the names of the stars above us. You would make up crude names for the constellations and I would crack up. You would hold my hand tighter. I would squeeze right back.

I remember the afternoon we spent on my bedroom floor, passing each other the half-empty brandy bottle. The brown liquid dwindled worringly as we tasted our first drop of alcohol, but we didn't care. We passed out right after, the brandy drained up to the last drop. My parents didn't tell us off.

I remember when you wrapped your warm arms around me. My heart was broken for the first time. You had tissues on hand, wiping away the tears off my face, your chapped lips pressing against my tear-stained cheek.

I remember when we drove up to the small cliff miles away from our suburban homes, overlooking the wide blue sea, the air stinging and sweet. It was your favorite place, but it was the first time you took me there. You had sat on your dad's car's hood, while I leaned against the front bumper. You were smoking cigarettes, watching the sunset, the light bronzing your brown skin. I watched you the whole time. I noticed how your cheeks hollowed and puffed, how your hair fluttered softly in the wind, how you winked at me when you caught me staring. I hit your leg gently, and you laughed. Electricity sparked through my chest.

I remember when we got home drunk, both of us from a wild party thrown by an older student. You had your first kiss. I had my first - and second, and third, and fifth - beer. My parents were not home. We were laughing about nothing, as we stumbled inside my bedroom, each of us smelling of smoke and liquor. I had an arm around your waist, you had an arm on my shoulders. Every touch sparked, but you didn't seem to know it.

I remember when you crawled into my bed late at night from the air mattress inflated on the floor. You snuggled under my covers. Your head was pressed against my chest, our breathing syncing. You said you had trouble falling asleep. My fingers had absent-mindedly played with your hair. I recall asking why. You said you were itching to do something. Then, you kissed me, your chapped lips against mine, the world muting aside from the sounds of our hearts thrumming. Heat rose to my face. My fingertips were pressed on your cheeks, your hand on the crook of my jaw. We pulled apart. You smiled at me, as though nothing else mattered. I smiled back and we kissed again.

I remember the glow in your eyes when we kissed under the streetlight in front of your house. We were warm despite of the December chill, your cheeks flushed red. You were holding a teddy bear I won for you at the carnival. I was wearing your jacket, with your initials embroidered on the hem. You kissed my forehead and told me goodnight, before disappearing inside your house. I stood outside for a long time, grinning like a lovesick fool.

I remember the dance we shared in your bedroom, slow music playing in your busted speakers. My head rested on your right shoulder, my arms around your waist. You clasped me tight to your body. I felt like you don't want to let go. We swayed in the quiet beats, laughing softly because I was treading on your toes. My whole body still fizzled with the thought - no, feeling - of you, as though I this wasn't real. And it didn't feel real, with us slow dancing to the warbling voice of Elvis Presley, our bodies joined together, our worlds quiet except for our hearts and breathing. I tilted my head up to meet your eyes as the song reached the final chorus. All air left my body when I told you I love you. You smiled and kissed the top of my head. You murmured that you love me too. I had to physically restrain myself from whooping in joy. Instead, I stayed in your arms, feeling safe and secure.

It doesn't help, having all these recollections, when I know that you would be gone and I wouldn't have them anymore.

"Are you sure about this?" you ask. Your lips ghost over my knuckles, your own white.

"Quite sure," I whisper, smiling at you.

Your departure will be easier if I'd just remove of all of my recollections, my experiences with you, as though you had never existed. Memories can only do so much when the person you made them with is not with you.

The surgery is rather groundbreaking, even though I thought that it was baloney at first. You still think but it's bullshit, but I know it's the only way I'll be able to survive when you're not here with me.

I glance at the clock. 7:30 A.M. In just five minutes time, a nurse will come and escort me to the operation room for the surgery. In five minutes time, I'll completely forget about you. In five minutes time, they'll be erasing years of joys and triumph and sadness, each of them with you.

"Five minutes," you mutter. You rest on your head on my shoulder.

"Yeah," I say, playing with your hair out of habit. "Five minutes."

"Five minutes seem too short of a time to tell you how I love you," you say, your voice cracking. "And how I don't wish to leave you."

The atmosphere changes. You look almost ready to cry, your hands shaking in my grasp. And I can't handle the sight of you crying.

"Everyone leaves," I say, trying to smile. My throat burns with unshed tears, my limbs trembling. "It's just that you leaving hurts me the most."

"I don't wish to hurt you."

"I don't wish you to hurt me, either," I answer.

"But I already did."

"And you're already forgiven." I kiss your knuckles. "Any moment now."

A nurse then appears in front of us, my files clasped against her chest. Your grasp has tightened, your palms turning sweaty. She calls my name and I rise, my hands sliding out of your fingers. My heart beats faster and faster against my rib cage.

"I love you," you whisper, kissing my lips for the last time.

"I love you, too."

I follow the nurse to a wide room devoid of any color, ready to forget all the things I remember.

This is one of my short stories from my previous account (@scrawny-mf-with-a-cool-hairstyle) and I liked it so much that I decided to keep it! This is mostly unedited, since the time I posted it, but I opted to keep it this way so that I can see my progress!

[weirdo09]

tell me i’m a scrawny mf w/ a cool hairstyle, i’m a scrawny mf w/ a cool hairstyle, you don’t like my clothes but you still like my smile 😀

scrawny mf w a cool hairstyle