lastkies

[lastkies]

His voice wove through the room like a soft melody, rich with emotion and memory. The grandchildren gathered around him eagerly, eyes wide with wonder and anticipation, clutching little hands or leaning into each other for comfort. The youngest, a curious girl no older than five, sat on his knee, her small fingers tracing the creases in his weathered hands as if trying to understand the stories they held.

“Your grandmother, was more than just beautiful,” he began, his gaze distant but warm. “She had a kindness that could heal the deepest wounds. When I was young and reckless, it was her calm that steadied me. When the world felt heavy, her smile was my shelter.”

He paused, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. The children were silent, hanging on every word, sensing the weight behind the stories.

“She loved the garden, you know. Those lilies outside? She planted every one herself, saying they reminded her of hope—pure, white, and unyielding, even in the darkest times.” His fingers twitched involuntarily as if reaching for her.

Their first child, now a man in his thirty, stood quietly behind the group, his eyes moist but proud. And their youngest sat beside him, holding her own youngest child close. They had grown into pillars of strength, much like their parents, shaped by the legacy she left behind.

He continued, voice steadying, “There was a spring when the flowers bloomed brighter than ever. She insisted on baking bread with petals in it—a ridiculous idea, of course. The kitchen was a mess, flour everywhere, and the house almost caught fire. But she laughed through it all. That laughter… it filled the whole home with life.”

The grandchildren giggled at the image, their smiles brightening the room.

“She taught me how to love without conditions,” he said softly, eyes misting anew. “To be patient, to see the good even when it’s hidden. I carry that with me every day. And now, I see it in each of you.”

He looked around at the faces—some so young they barely remembered her, others who had known her as a gentle guiding hand.

“Your grandmother believed that love is the greatest gift we can give. It doesn’t end with a goodbye. It stays with us, shaping who we are, even when we can no longer see the person who gave it.”

A soft wind drifted in through the open window, carrying the scent of the blooming lilies. He inhaled deeply, as if drawing her presence closer.

“Every time you walk through this garden,” he said, voice thick with feeling, “remember her strength. Remember her warmth. And live with the love she gave you.”

The children nodded solemnly, understanding in their young hearts that this was more than a story—it was a promise, a heritage.

Later that evening, after the grandchildren had gone to bed and the house settled into quietude, Jirael sat alone by the window. Moonlight washed over the garden, painting the lilies in silver.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn locket—one Kaleen had given him long ago, a symbol of their enduring bond. Opening it, he traced the delicate engraving with trembling fingers.

“I’ll keep carrying you,” he whispered, “in every step, every breath. Because love, El… love never truly leaves us.”

And beneath the vast, star-filled sky, a single lily bloomed brighter than the rest—white and unwavering—bearing witness to a love that had transcended time itself.

[lastkies]

Days passed in a soft blur after Kaleen’s passing. The house felt emptier, the silence heavier, but life carried on with a gentle rhythm. Leon and Caleste came often, bringing their children—bright-eyed, curious little ones who reminded Jirael so much of their grandmother’s quiet warmth.

At first, he found it hard to join their laughter, to let himself be part of the joy that filled the rooms she once graced. But slowly, with each smile and story shared, the weight on his chest lightened just a little.

One afternoon, as golden light spilled through the garden window, he sat in the old armchair she used to favor. His fingers traced the familiar grooves on the wooden armrest, and for a moment, he closed his eyes—feeling her presence in the soft breeze that carried the scent of lilies.

A little boy voice called from the doorway, breaking the quiet.

“Grandfather, tell us a story about Grandma,” the little boy said eagerly, eyes shining with innocent hope.

He opened his eyes and smiled softly, the ache in his heart still there but mingled now with gratitude.

“Alright,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “Let me tell you about the woman who could light up a room just by being in it…”

As he spoke, the room filled not only with memories but with life—a legacy of love passed down, growing stronger with each telling.

And in that moment, he knew that though she was gone, she was far from forgotten. She lived in every laugh, every gentle touch, every story shared beneath the sky she had loved so much.

Love, after all, never truly leaves us. It only changes shape.

And theirs was eternal.

[lastkies]

He glanced down at her, his jaw twitching slightly—not with anger, but with that restrained patience he always had when it came to her.

"Mm," he hummed noncommittally, stretching one leg out in front of him. "Could've been better if my partner didn’t think ‘ghosting�� was a valid work method."

She blinked up at him, feigning innocence, sipping her milk again like he hadn’t just roasted her.

"I didn’t ghost you. I was working," she said, not even trying to sound convincing.

His eyes narrowed slightly, amused. "You answered everyone in your group chat within five seconds. I sent you three texts. You left me hanging like a bad subplot."

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile. “You’re so dramatic.”

"And you’re so good at ignoring me, it’s practically a talent now."

She finally grinned at that, poking his side gently with her finger. “Don’t be sulky. You survived, didn’t you?”

He didn’t look at her. Just stared ahead with that cool expression of his. “Barely. I had to use a cactus emoji to cope.”

That made her laugh—an actual laugh, not the polite giggle she used around other people. She tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning back again against his shoulder.

“…You missed me that much?” she teased, soft and sweet.

He turned to her, face so close she could see the tiny flecks of gray in his icy eyes. “What do you think?"

She swallowed, heart beating just a little faster—but her expression didn’t waver. Only her fingers fiddled with the edge of her skirt.

“…I think you missed me like a man left on read,” she said with a smug grin.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning in just slightly. “So next time, answer the damn texts, princess.”

She raised her milk like a toast, smiling smugly again. “Yes, Your Highness.”

[lastkies]

“You’re spoiling me,” she said, watching him plate a few pieces for her.

“You’re mine. Of course I am,” he said, nonchalant, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She looked at him for a long second, her fork paused midair. Then, quietly, “I like being yours.”

And under the candlelight, his smirk softened. “Good,” he said simply, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because I’m never giving you back.”

[lastkies]

.

[lastkies]

He is my 'in a world of boys, he's a gentleman'.

Everyone wants him, that was my crime

The wrong place at the right time

And I break down, then he's pullin' me in

In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

He's my kind of boy, my kind of man, my kind of life—something I've been craving for ages.

The kind words, the kind actions, the kind minds, the kind manners—everything he possesses is perfect for me.

He's the fictional guy I've created, Jirael. My favorite kind of boy—and maybe man—the gentleman.

How soft he is when he talks, how genius he is when he thinks, how sweet he is when he acts, how polite he is when he comes, and how precious he is when he's in love.

He's my love, my man, my everything, my fictional creation. I write him just the way I want to be treated.

The gentleness of his way of speaking to my character, Kaleen. A beautiful woman as soft as the coastal breeze brushing against the skin.

Jirael knows Kaleen has everything, but as if not stepping back, Jirael gives more to Kaleen.

Providing something Kaleen has never received, even though her life is already perfect.

Questioning Kaleen's well-being, even though Kaleen always seems fine.

Waiting until Kaleen is willing to share, even if he has to wait for ages with anxious feelings.

Jirael, who never raises his voice or disappears from Kaleen's sight, even when his head and heart feel hot with anger.

How beautiful it is to be Kaleen, truly loved by a man like Jirael.

[lastkies]

although I can't show the world how's Kaleen's looks, I still can find joy when think about it. dear love, I hope my friends or someone will know about your existence.

[lastkies]

a friend forces me to tell my problems but how can i tell her everything when she rarely sees me first. I'm not her first choice at all. i mean.. how can i tell her my story?

[lastkies]

tumblr is so fun bcs i can send death notes freely

[lastkies]

tired of living doesn't mean i really really want to die. sometimes. i just want my life to get balance, especially the emotions. that's all.

[lastkies]

you're afraid to lose everyone, but are they afraid to lose you?

[lastkies]

the only thing that I need.

[lastkies]

Love, Love, Love.

never show my true feelings for him with other people. I make it simple. I like mark lee. I love him. I'm so in love with him. I fall for every single thing that he does.

let's make it clear. seandainya kehidupan lain benar-benar terjadi, seandainya kehidupan lain memungkinkan ada, let me be yours, let me hold your hand, let me hug you for every minute and every second. let me in, dear mr. lee.

[lastkies]

no one knows how grateful I am when it comes to my dad. I love him. I do love him. but when I said we had a fight, it doesn't matter at all. cause we both know how to end our fight without even trying.

[lastkies]

I love how I feel about you with lovely feelings, but at the same time I'm shy enough. embarrassing, but addictive. that's mark lee. I'm talking about him.

[lastkies]

although I can't show the world how's Kaleen's looks, I still can find joy when think about it. dear love, I hope my friends or someone will know about your existence.

[lastkies]

If I stop writing that ain't me I'm sure, in other side that's me.