STORY

It’s been a month since Gray and I became a couple. There were times when I would blankly stare at him and ask myself what did I do? What did I do in my last life to be able to have him in this life? Honestly, I don’t know the answer. I felt like floating above the clouds every time I was with him. There were no words to describe how much he means to me.

What I did was a bold move and I know that. My friends, even Lyuna, told me and even asked me a lot of times if I was sure of my decision about being with Gray. Truth be told, I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want to waste the chance that was given to us.

Lyuna, argued, and told me that it was too soon. Yes, she was happy about it but she couldn’t help but think about the past life of Gray before meeting me. I also thought about it and we used to talk about our lives and I know some of the facts about him that he told me. But, deep down, we haven’t talked seriously about life. It seems that everything about us is just butterflies in the stomach that I will probably choke in the near future. Too much happiness would be my death.

I am afraid of this happiness because I know that this kind of happiness would get me stuck at the end. I am cynical, but that is just me, and I don’t know. There are few things I want to ask Gray, a lot, actually, but every time I get the chance to ask him about things, I stop. I don’t want to ruin the moment. I just want to be at the moment and feel it. Gray made me forget things about life or the reality about life.

Somehow, it also made me question what I know about love. I’ve read somewhere that when you feel butterflies in the stomach, the slow motion, that kind of love that makes you get jittery feelings, you should run away from it. It said that love wasn’t supposed to feel that way. Instead, love should be calm and peaceful.

“Hey, what’s up? I know, I am handsome,” Gray chuckled. “You’re melting me.”

I smiled a bit while still trying to feel what I should feel about it. It’s still butterflies and jittery feelings. I couldn’t find the calm in my heart as it raced everytime I looked at Gray. Is this love wrong? Ugh! I am just paranoid. I used to read a lot of stories, but now I am being influenced by those kinds of love stories that I could not even identify what I am feeling.

“You are a writer,” I told him while we were sitting inside the coffee shop near the university. We don’t usually see each other since we live far from each other. Although, Gray used to visit me whenever he had the time.

“Hmm. I stopped writing,” He sadly told me.

“Why did you stop writing?”

He shrugged as he sipped on his coffee. “I no longer feel like writing and I became busy.”

I glanced at him. He stared blankly at the people outside, passing by the coffee shop, where we are sitting. I was writing stories at Wattpad while he was reading a book. Truth be told, I am not writing. I am just staring at my monitor thinking about the future. I used to overthink which one of the traits I want to remove from my life, yet I couldn’t.

Why do I feel like it’s not the reason? It’s not the reason why he entirely dismissed the idea of writing. He has a lot of potential when it comes to that and if he didn’t stop, maybe, he’s already one of those writers from Wattpad who published their work.

“Is that it? No other reason?”

He simply looked at me and shook his head. “What would be the reason?”

“I don’t know. Just wondering,” I told him and went back to writing.

“Something bothering you?” He asked. He pulled his seat close to me and looked at the monitor. “You are not writing. I thought you were going to write an update today,” he pouted. “I want to read some of your works. I might install Wattpad soon.”

“No!” I stopped him. “Don’t read my works.”

“Why not?”

I closed my laptop before he could check my pen name. “Nothing. I’m shy.”

“I am your boyfriend, why would you be ashamed? Plus…” He grinned as he leaned closer to me and kissed my cheeks. “I want to know the things that make you happy.”

“What? What do you mean by that?” I raised my brow. “How would you know that? You’re just going to read my work.”

He brushed my hair and leaned his head on my shoulder. My heart kept racing, but this time, it wasn’t because I was excited. It was the fact that I somehow feared being with him because of how cynical I am when it comes to love. What if this is just temporary happiness? What if it will end tomorrow and I could no longer know how to go back to my life without him?

“They say most writers put their soul in the stories they wrote, so they must have included things that in real life make them happy, too,” he explained as he played with my hands.

“Do you want to make me happy?” I giggled at the thought.

“Of course,” he looked at me. “So, tell me, what are the things that make you happy?” He kissed my forehead.

“What are the things that make you happy, Gray?” I asked back. “Because it seems to me that you are the one who needs happiness in life.”

“What?” He laughed a bit. And, as time went by, I could now distinguish the difference between his laugh. I know this one is a fake one. “What makes you say that? I am happy.”

“You don’t look happy to me.” I held his hand and told him. “Do I make you happy?”

“Yes, of course. What’s with the question? Are we going to fight because I don’t want this to be our first fight-” I kissed him and then he continued. “I don’t want us to fight, okay?”

“Silly!” I brushed his hair. “We are not going to fight. I am just saying that if you want to say something or you need someone to talk to, I am here for you.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” He hissed with a smile on his face. “Thank you for being in my life.”

“Why are we so dramatic?” I laughed and changed the topic. “Why not help me with writing a plot? I want to submit a story in a publishing house but I really don’t know what ---”

“Why not write our story?” He suggested. “I will help you with bed scenes because I am --”

I cut him and he laughed. “Kidding aside, you can write our story.”

“What would be the conflict of our story?” I thought about it. “What should we fight about? Or what will be the ending?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want an ending between us. So, yeah, don’t write our story.” He shook his head. “Just write another one and kill the main protagonist,” he chuckled.

“What? Okay, help me with that,” I urged him. “Write with me. We can do a collaboration.”

“I might if you will give me a kiss--” I kissed him as soon as he said that. “Nah, I want a torrid one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Help me first and we’ll do that later.”

“Yey!” He smirked and pulled the laptop from me. “I’ll start the prologue and you finish the rest, okay?”

“What’s the story?”

“An online writer who fell in love with his reader.”

Well, that sounds like our love story.