this

11:30 PM

"you know that in time you will be fine. after all, you've been in this situation before. twice. the third time should be no different. the pain eventually heals and you no longer weep at the sound of his name, or cringe at the thought of him enjoying her company. but for now, you reminisce of the one boy who has always been in your life, the first boy to tell you he loves you, the boy that will always remain despite how many mistakes you make or how many others you let try and touch you. like only he can.

you miss the sudden beep of your phone, the simple, yet sweet, text any time after 10pm. he knows that you will be awake. he will always know. because he knows you. he knows how you like to listen to music to soothe a broken heart. soul. he knows how you blame yourself for everything bad that happens in your life. he knows that you are inextricably connected. forever. epic?

you dream about him. a distraction. because when it comes to him you couldn't possibly get more messed up than you already are. have been for years.

you imagine what sort of relationship you might have in the new year, when you are finally living in the same town again, after so long. that was always his excuse for not 'being' with you. no excuses now. you don’t expect any kind of commitment from him, nor anything more than friendship, but it helps to imagine things differently. you imagine that he needs you as much as you need him. you imagine that you share some kind of comfort that take you away from the difficulties of life. a secret correspondence, kept from prying eyes, made all the more special for not being shared with others.

you imagine... his roommate opens the door, dressed in his robe and looking slightly pissed off. when he notices that it's you he simply rolls his eyes, steps out of the way to let you in and walks straight back to his room. you know the way in. down at the end of the hallway his door is slightly ajar, with a soft light filtering through. no sound.

when you slowly push your way in he looks up at you with those wide eyes. not full of surprise. but need.

you slip out of your shoes and jacket, left in a meaningless puddle on his floor. his covers are lifted just enough for you to climb underneath. to that warmth that you both desire. so desperately.

it's not sex that you come for, it's not sex that he asks for. but as his arm snakes around you familiarly, you imagine doing this for the rest of your nights. you snuggle into that place, just below his chin, your hand resting on his chest. over his heart. sometimes you wish that it could belong to you, like this, always. he may have even whispered your name, but your heart beats so loud you cannot hear a thing.

he leaves the television playing. muted visions of reality. he brushes his fingers gently through your hair as his hand comes to rest on the back of your neck. holding you close. in place. exactly where you should be. his breathing is uneasy at first, but with time it calms and you can feel him drift off to sleep. it takes you barely a minute longer. at peace, to dream again. "

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