Each chapter might seem not connected to each other or disorder. But it's actually the point.
They're memories. And memories don't have to come in order. Each chapter represents a different memory.
They might be a beginning, a middle or an end of the story. You decide.
ONE
Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there. ~ Otomo No Yakamochi
The bed is cold.
He winced as the thought sneaked trough his mind; he was lying stoically in his king-sized bed, he hadn't felt well for sometime and had decided to lie down and get some rest.
The gray comforter was pulled up to his chest, protecting him from chilly air. But he felt fucking cold, especially around his chest.
The fluffy pillow underneath his head lulled him to sleep and his eye-lids were starting to drop.
She would be leaning against the headboard, propped up by pillows. Unlike him, she liked the feel of cool air and the comforter would be left untouched. She would hold a book on her lap, and her body would slightly turn to left.
The right side of the bed was always hers.
She would smile when he came into the room then crawled to the left side of the bed. The book would be marked by her finger as she bend down and kissed his forehead.
He would be blissfully peaceful and snuggled against her soft stomach as her left hand gently combed his hair while she continued to read.
Some other time, she'd close her book; clumsily slipped it off her hand and let the book fell to the ground beneath. She'd pulled to him to her embrace or she'd rest her head against his shoulder.
Then they'd fall asleep together.
Her scent and warmth'd swirled around, lulling him to sleep. Her soft and petite body against his. Peace was never so close.
His eyes snapped open and he frantically sat up, gasping. His chest tightened even more as he struggled for breath. His left hand curled on his shirt, grasping the fabric tightly. But there was no change, even as his other hand covered his left and pushed further to his chest.
He began to sob. Miserable tears fell free when his torso lowered until the knuckles touched his thighs.
Blurred by the water on his eyes, he turned his neck slightly to the right, facing the tidier gray comforter with unwrinkled pillow.
And empty white sheets.
He buried his head to his knees, curled up in bed. The faithful gray comforter was still wrapped to his body, reaching his waist. Not offering the warmth he'd once known nor the one he used to.
The bed was cold. And empty.
A.N
There. It might be confusing, i admit. But soon, you will be able to piece the chapters together.
I've post this chapter before, but I decide to change the outline so it'll be a little bit interesting. :)
So...whaddaya think?