Midnight Moments

take me home

I keep trying to think of a less awkward way to say it, but I can't put it any other way.

You make me feel like

Home. 

Your touch feels like home. The way your soft hair always feels a little cool as it runs through my fingers. The way your skin is perfectly smooth across your temples yet perfectly stubbled beneath your nose. 

I think about our shower together a lot, maybe more than I should. Not in those ways–well, maybe a little, I'll admit. No, I think about that one moment when you stood behind me, skin to skin, our bodies pressed together with nothing in between–a moment of raw vulnerability, blemishes and flaws deprived of their shield and defenseless against judgement yet only blitzed with acceptance. I think about the way your arms wrapped around me. It felt like home.

You felt like home.

Do you remember the day I told you I was in love with you?

I do. 

You cried. I remember the glisten in your eyes and I remember the way you held me with SoMuchJoy and SoMuchLove and I remember the way your loving blue-green eyes told me everything you felt for me.

You looked like home.

I remember when I visited you. I remember the way your mom welcomed me as if I were part of the family. I remember trading candy with your little brothers after the Easter Egg Hunt and I remember cooking them the best pizza they'd ever had. 

They made me feel home. 

You were my home.

You still are.

But I didn't know a home could run away. I didn't know a home could abandon me just when I needed its warmth the most. So what the hell am I supposed to do now without you?

Without my home?

A/N about updates:

So, as I said in my last author's note, this story is kind of like my diary. It's where I go when all of my emotions get cloudy and overwhelming and I don't really have anyone to talk to. That being said, I don't really update that much. I try to write about once a month. Yes, I've tried forcing myself to write when I know it's been too long, but unfortunately I'm a really shitty writer when I'm not being pounded with complex emotions at the moment. I've written at least a dozen updates that I've quickly deleted because they suck. I have very high standards for my writing. Yes, I realize my updates are extremely short. But my updates are also very raw and emotional and dense. This story isn't meant to be binge-read. It's meant to be taken in small doses–small bursts of emotion–so they can really be soaked in. It's kind of like reading poetry; it's not something you read all at one time but something that you spread out so that it can really be absorbed. That being said, I'm sorry I don't write much, and I'm sorry it takes me so long to update, but this story is a little bit different and I hope you still enjoy it.