Red lips, Cups and Break ups.

It was a one slow Thursday evening, around 7 pm. I just woke up from the dreamy slumber I've had, the touch of the wind was getting chillier. I was still feeling a little hazy and baked from the marijuana brownies I ate before dwelling on the quest of lonesome unconsciousness. I woke up with the deathly cravings for something sweet and cold sitting on a cup with the famous "S" word. It was so fucked up for me to be drinking a strawberry smoothie when it's a 5°C I know but you gotta do what you gotta do when you are high and hungry and craving. Those were the exact answer I've given the guy across me, five years ago.

"Why are you wearing a bloody lipstick?" He asked me, looking annoyed which has been his typical mood for freaking 8 months now. "Why not?" The only reply I can think of.

"You are just at home, just drinking a coffee from a sachet... with me. What's the fuss about?" He said, smirking.

"Bloody hot!" I said in tune with his voice on the first night we met. "Excuse me?" I asked him that night, after realizing we were the only people sitting on the bench by the window of the cafe. He smilingly pointed towards the red lip mark from the cup I was drinking. Still, I was confused by the random remark since I'm drinking a cold drink. "I mean, the red lipstick" He explained, noticing my evident puzzlement. "Oh!" my usual go to word when surprised and feeling bashful for the sudden compliment from a complete stranger. "Never liked red lipstick on woman but you wear it quite differently." He unreservedly added in a gentle note.

"Bloody stupid, I'd rather call it!" He snapped, bringing me back to the present mess that we've gradually become.

"What do you mean?" I asked, memories of our first conversation revisiting. "Well, there's two delectable reason why. First, I like how you drink you're smoothie like it's a cup of coffee or tea. Second, I like how you wear your red lips, careless and free." Undeniably aware of my knitted brows, he continued talking. "I mean, ladies usually wear them to impress or like it is a sign board saying "Hands off" you know..." He finished, hoping his point of view was not insulting.

"Wipe it off, that's what I mean!" He mockingly continued while I wonder what changed him so much from the man he was, the man who said I had the best red lips.

"Leave it alone." I quietly said, feeling nostalgic.

"No, no I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry." He pleaded apologetically, as I was about to brush my lipstick off with my 3 year old navy blue sweater. "Please leave it be, I meant no offense or discomfort at all" He carefully added looking red-faced. "What does the sign board say" I teasingly asked. "I'd like to kiss another cup of milkshake and get to know you" He playfully answered matching my radiant red lips with his scarlet cheeks. We both smiled while the snow kept pouring.

"I don't understand why you even spend money on useless stuffs like that!" He kept arguing. "You know I've always loved red lipstick." I simply answered. My coffee getting colder like the relationship I have. Tasteless. Like the conversation I have with the man I've loved for half a decade now. "I also hate how the red marks stays on the cup, makes washing it harder." He stood up and reached out for the handkerchief by his office bag and threw it on my lap. Looking dissatisfied with my nonchalant stillness.

"Don't worry I'll wash it myself." I replied, feeling an intensity slowly dominating my calmness. "Or maybe i'll just throw the cup afterwards." starting to challenge his irrationality.

"When did you ever become so ridiculous?" He retorted, ready for another night of squabble. "When did wearing a lipstick turned into a bloody crime?" I hate how I let myself be a part of this childish war of words. "The moment you bought them, that's already a crime. Pointless use of money and worse you use it pointlessly as well. At home, for what?" Another going back and forth of hopeless remarks. "Well that is because I don't wear it to impress, I wear it because i feel like it! Alright!" already tired of the unwanted misunderstanding. "Well, guess what I'm obviously far from impressed, and unlike you I don't feel like chilling at home with a woman looking like a bloody slut." I can feel it, the burning of shadowed hatred dressed up in coveralls of nonsense arguments.

"What the fuck! I'm just wearing a fucking lipstick what are you so fired up! You asshole!" Yes, here I am losing grip of the "keep it calm" woman that I have earnestly tried to be for 32 weeks now. "Is it because of the lip mark, fuck it! Then let's just throw the fucking cup!" Outrage devouring me, I threw the cup and watched its broken pieces scattered on the floor. Seeing his stunned expression turning into rage. "Still not satisfied, alright let me burn it for you then!" I continued playing with fire, no longer holding back. "You're a fucking psycho!" He screamed furiously.

"The shittiest gift you could ever give your girlfriend for five years, you asshole." No longer restricting myself from the hiatus of emotions I've kept beneath, I took all the cups he had gifted me on every holidays we shared and broke each five Christmas cups, valentine mugs, birthdays and anniversaries. Thank God we both hate monthsaries. He watched me with displeasure, shadow of the worst coming in a minute. I continued smashing pieces of the beautiful, untroubled past we used to share. Recalling the harmless laughter we've shared and real, uncomplicated chats we had while drinking his home made teas and my instant coffees. Where did the crack in our relationship started? What are we doing with each other?

"Why don't we just break them all then, so you won't fucking worry about washing them clean! It's worthless if I can't use it anyway. Just one hell of a waste of space to keep it here safe when I can't drink from them just because I wear a bloody lipstick. Horrendous! Stupid hell of a life!" I can't believe how crazy I had become over a brief course of time. I looked at him, also enraged in its highest dosage. I heard his footsteps moving away from me, then I heard the door from the other room opened with vigorous strength, that I don't need to check it just to see just how damaged it'd be. I heard drawers being opened, and something being shattered. "These are just pointless and useless. Waste of everything! Bloody nothing! Ruined everything!" He infuriatingly uttered, cracking and crashing my collection of red lipstick. "Trash like this should be in a garbage, it's not worth keeping. I don't want to be in the same space with this piece of shit!" We simultaneously compete with each other's resentment, revealing our innermost frustrations and disappointments. Getting it off our chest.

Hours went by before we've finally reached the end of the climax of a fiasco we engaged on, the little condo we've bought together, looking worse than when we first moved in, a year and three months after we became a real couple.

He quietly sat beside me, barefoot. Looking disheveled as I do.

"What a mess!" He sounded weary.

"What should we do?" I desperately questioned

"I'm too tired to think...let's rest for a while, then we can start fixing it." I can hear the despair.

"You actually think it can still be fix?" Lose all hopes.

"There's nothing epoxy glue can't fixed."

"It's too broken, I don't think it can be fixed at all."

"You gotta give it a try." He persisted, sadness in his voice.

"Some things are just not worth giving a try, it's just a waste of time, energy..."

"So you'll just throw it out? Like that?"

"I don't think keeping it is any better than that as well so..."

"How about the sentimental value at least, the memories? I don't know..."

"I'm ready to let go." I eventually mumbled, as I stood up and finally release from my hold the first cup he gave me as his first present on our first Christmas together, two months after the first night we've met. An unbroken piece of the cup, a photo of us, the one we took during the first night we've met.

"Let's meet up" he boldly asked, "Here tomorrow, same time. I'd love to buy you another strawberry milkshake." He shyly added.

His faced looked tickled-pink. I can't help but smile while I look at his gentle face, he has the kindest-looking eyes and tender lips.

I walked towards him and wrapped around his neck the red scarf I've just crochet by hand. "I'm afraid I need this back." My first winter love began.

"Let's break up" melancholic towards the fated end of our romance.

"There's no tomorrow for us, we've wasted too much time trying. I'd love to buy myself happiness again." His faced looking as clement and loving as that night in the cafe, I can't help but ache in sorrow. He has the gloomiest expression. I walked towards him, and wrapped my arms around him. "I'm afraid I need myself back." My first winter break-up began.