The Untold Stories.

You.

And I watched intently, absorbing every possible sight from the scene infront of me.
My feet continued to hit the tiny pebbles, idly, humming the song to myself which you sung for me an year ago.
It had never been my favourite, never. I didn't like the music. In fact, it was one of those songs which I despised with all my heart.

But when I heard you singing it for the first time, back at the ladders of your tree house, only for me, it suddenly became my most favourite melody.
And that day, my friend, I realised that there's something that has changed.
Definitely changed.
Changed in me.
I don't know if it was a noticeable change or not, but all I know is, that it was something which I felt slipping through my veins. Inch by inch, ounce by ounce, converting me into something else.
Someone else.
Your favourite colours turned into my favourite ones now.
Your favourite sweater, yes, that autumn yellow one, I felt myself getting attached to its smell as well.
That action-thriller series of your favourite serial, I remember making a fixed time-table to watch the episodes in a regular basis, sharp at 8 pm in the evenings.
All this while I was oblivious, completely oblivious to the changes taking place in me, but for some reason the change felt good.
Too good to be real.
It made me realise that loving someone is not always about going on expensive dinner nights, travelling around the world, or spending your weekends in between thick crowds.
It has many definitions.
Many expressions.
And the most beautiful one was the one love that we both shared.
The love that was incomplete.
So incomplete but yet a little too whole. 

Why does every fucking thing always comes back to you?

I thought and smiled, the lifeless pebbles still under my touch, only this time, they were not under my feet , but inside my palms.