love you goodbye. (slh)

find your way back home.

The sky was streaked with reds and pinks, quietly dissolving into oranges and yellows. The house was serene, the living room soaked in prisms of rainbows. My notebook sat opened on the coffee table, a mug of tea cooling next to it. Streams of steam rose out of the cup, melting into the cool air that surrounded me. My legs were tucked underneath me, my hands playing with the pen I held. My mind was roaming, searching, combing through my brain for the perfect words for the new poem I had decided to work on. My eyes were directed towards the window, my gaze unwavering on the sunset outside. It would be gone soon and the sky would turn into a milky, dark navy before going completely midnight black. It was the time between the sunset and the black that my husband always came home. He'd usually find me in one of two places: with our daughter or sitting right here. I hadn't been used to his late hours when I'd first married him, so much so that he used to find me asleep with our daughter when he came home. But he never argued if I forgot to wait on him. I would always be able to feel him slide into bed with us, sliding his arm around to hold both of us, and small kisses on each of our foreheads. Tonight was one of our last nights before he started his new tour and I didn't want to fall asleep – I wanted all the time possible to be spent with him before he would slip out of my hands for another six months. I didn't want any of it rushed, I wanted the small moments that would tide me over before he could return again, though none of the memories would ever be enough.

My ears focused in on the sound of the front door's lock clicking. I stayed silent, knowing he'd find me soon enough. I listened for the tell-tale signs – keys on the table, jacket slipping into the hall closet, his quiet footsteps into the living room. I closed my eyes, settling into the darkness. One quick moment later, I felt the couch shift from his added weight. What could only be described as a relieved smile slipped onto my face and I leaned my head back, knowing I'd find his shoulder there to catch me. A short kiss on my forehead later and the first words were spoken.

"How was your day, babe?" Even after the years of touring, he'd never lost his Georgia accent. It was the thing I joked about at parties: that I'd fallen in love with the sound of his voice before I'd even seen his face.

"Well, I don't know about me, but Ella had a very exciting day." I could feel him smile at the mention of our beautiful little girl.

"Did she now? Well, you know I just have to hear about that." He was smiling nonstop now, I knew it without even looking at him. Five years of spending every waking moment with someone will teach you to know every move, every motion, every inflection of voice, and every detail about them. I knew his smile had started out slow, the smirk I'd fallen in love with from afar, then would have slowly grown into the wide smile he wore only when he talked about me or Ella, the one reserved just for us.

"Why don't I have her tell you herself? She's been coming down every hour, like clockwork, to ask if Daddy was home yet." I slid to face him, placing a short kiss on his lips before untucking my legs from underneath me and preparing to stand. He slipped his hand into mine and stood with me, easily standing several inches above me. He was always taller than me, even if I wore heels. He placed another kiss on the top of my head before I led him out of the living room. We crossed into the dining room, passing through both it and the kitchen, before reaching the stairs. I was taking the first step, his hand still in mine. He waited for me to climb two steps before I felt him tug on my hand. From where I stood on the stairs, I was nearly the same height as him because he still stood on the flat floor. His hand was still locked into mine and I was being reeled in by his gaze, his eyes meeting mine, a short, pirate smile on his face. He moved just a little bit more forward, his hands resting just on my waistline. I watched his slow, almost calculating, movements, waiting for what I knew came next. The closer he came, the more I could smell the familiar scent of something that hinted towards stale bread, old air freshener, a soft note of strawberries, and his cologne. He'd spent today in the studio, I knew not only because he'd told me, but because I'd by now memorized the scents that would follow him around from there. His eyes flickered in the dim light, the only light provided coming from the kitchen. I smiled, almost to myself. I took my other hand off the banister, taking his free hand in my own. There was almost no space between us now. The moment seemed to draw on, but he and I both knew it had only been a matter of seconds. He freed his hand, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. His hand traced down, leaving an invisible line from my ear, down my jaw, and ending in the crook of my shoulder. His hand stayed there as he came closer. I released a soft sigh, leaning my head to rest it on his hand. Before I'd known how many milliseconds had passed, I felt the familiar press of his lips against mine. It was a short kiss, but it tilted the world around me, just like they always did. I lifted my head up, bringing my free hand up to curl behind his neck, tugging him back closer to me. His eyes held the slightest edge of fire and I felt the urge of wanting, needing, to burn in that fire. I moved my other hand to place it over his heart, feeling the rhythmic beating of his heart and trying to match mine with his, syncing us together again in more ways than one. My breaths were slow, soothing almost. I knew his were short, choppy, and shallow. He reached for me and I obliged, feeling myself being swept up into his arms. He'd pulled me off the steps now and I was, once again, small in his presence.