A/N: I don't even know. But here's a link to a song you can listen to while reading this.

goo. gl/i6sfFl

Make sure to remove the space~

I guess I should start out with the main point, huh?

I'm sorry.

It's probably no use saying it by now, but I just wanted to let you know. That I'm sorry for a lot of things. I'm pretty sure you know some of them, but there's more. For all the things I did, that I shouldn't have done.

I'm sorry I was always mean to you.

I'm sorry you had to laugh it off for me.

I'm sorry that I was too busy with other things to notice.

I'm sorry that I always got into arguments with you before ever hearing you out first.

I'm sorry that I was always too prideful to admit anything to you.

I'm sorry that, whenever you told me things from your heart, I didn't take it well because they weren't things I wanted to hear.

I'm sorry.

Maybe by now you've already stopped reading, thrown this into the fireplace and continued with your life. But that's okay. Because that's what I expect to happen. It's what's supposed to happen. But I have a lot more sorry's to go through, about all the things I never did, but should have at least thought about it.

I'm sorry that I wasn't nicer to you.

I'm sorry that I never asked about how you really felt, because all I cared about was how I felt.

I'm sorry that I never had a proper talk with you, because I was afraid of what you were going to say.

I'm sorry that I never went on enough dates with you.

I'm sorry I was never paying enough attention.

I'm sorry that I never faced you.

I'm sorry.

Do you remember that day last year? It was cold, and our breaths were coming out in little white clouds. The sky was gray and the night was a little gloomy, and colored ornaments and lights dappled the city. I had just finished whatever I was busy with, but instead of being happy, you gave me this lookーthis look that told me I had forgotten something. Again. I forgot to get you your present last year. I'm pretty sure you weren't mad about the present, but about the fact that I forgot, right?

Yeah, I'm sorry about that too.

I'm sorry it didn't go the way we wanted it to. I'm sorry that we were always mad whenever we saw each other. I'm sorry for calling you stupid all the time when, in fact, I was the who was stupid. I'm sorry for telling you to get glasses because, in reality, I was the one who was blind.

And I'm sorry for telling you, on that night, that you were a hypocriteー

Because I was the hypocrite all along.

There's one thing I'm not sorry for, though.

I'm not sorry that I loved you. I'm sorry that our love didn't come out right, but I'll never be sorry that I ever loved you. I'll never forget it, and I'll always hold it to my heart.

I hope you find a love that'll grow right, a love that'll remind you of a warm, summery day instead of a cold, winter night.

I'm sorry, Elsword.

Good-bye.

The crimson-haired man stared, hard, at the letter, his face impassive. He let out a breath, a sighing breath, and closed his scarlet eyes before crumpling the paper and tossing it into the trash.

"What a fat idiot," he muttered, throwing on a black coat and stepping out into the snowing world.

And then he ran, ran to her, ran to find her. His breath was coming out in little clouds, and the city was dotted in colored ornaments and lights. The air was bitingly frigid, and he could barely see anything, but he ran, because that was one of the only things he knew how to do.

He was at her doorstep, breathing heavily, and barged right in, because her door was unlocked. It always was for him, and he reminded himself to scold her afterwards, because what if it hadn't been him?

She had been curled up on the couch, a bundle of purple. When he came in, she sat straight up, and gawked at him, shock clear in her amethyst eyes. "What..."

He went over to her and swept her into his arms, like he always had, and held her close to him. "I'm glad you realized that you were a hypocrite," he murmured.

"..."

"And I'm glad you realized that you were the biggest idiot of us all."

"You read it?" Her voice was as small as she was, and it cracked, just a bit.

"No," he replied nonchalantly. "I tossed it into the trash."

She pushed herself away from him, as if remembering something. Her face told him everything: that she felt she didn't deserve that warmth, that he was probably here to erase her from his life, that her apologies would never be enough. "Of course you did," she said, all tones of bitter and regret. "I'm surprised it didn't go into the fireplace."

But he wasn't going to let go.

"I threw it," he said, his voice level and flat, "because I didn'tー"

"Because you didn't want it, I know," she intercepted, looking away.

"Because I don't need it," he corrected. "All I need is you." And he could feel the silence gap at them, which bothered him.

So he got closer and wrapped her body in his jacket, both sharing the warmth of it. He gazed up at her empty ceiling and tried to count the number of popcorn* on it.

She was trembling against him, quiet sobs escaping from her. He could feel the tears against his shirt. "Hey, Aisha."

She nodded, sniffling.

"Promise me something."

"Okay."

"Actually, a lot of things."

"...Okay."

"Promise me that you'll do all the things you never did."

"Okay."

"Promise me that you won't do all the things you regretted doing."

"Okay."

"Promise me to look at me and remember that I'm here, and promise me to not forget about things again."

And she was crying, even more, because he had read it, all the way through, all of it. "O-Okay."

"Promise me to not leave the door unlocked, because that's not safe."

"Mhm."

"And promise me to say that you love me, not hate me."

"I一" she said, her words coming out with hiccups in between now, "I love you."

He smiled and kissed the top of her head, even though it was a mess of tangles and unkempt strands. "Okay?"

"O-Okay." She was choking in her tears, and he held her tighter to him, hoping that they would never have to go through this again.

"I love you too."

popcorn:* the bumps often found on ceilings. Also called acoustic texture.