I woke up to an arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me backwards against a warm body. A set of soft, oh so soft lips incessantly brushed butterfly kisses to my exposed neck and I sighed long and deep, feeling completely content. My hand found his, splayed on my stomach, stroked it briefly before intertwining the fingers with his.
"Good morning," he breathed into my ear which sent a shiver down my spine.
"Hmm," I grumbled. "It's not even daylight yet."
"But it is," he corrected me quietly. I felt the fingers of his free hand tangle in my hair and pull my head back very gently. "Open your eyes and see for yourself."
"I don't want to," I whined, keeping my eyes firmly closed, reveling in the sensations he caused by showering my neck and cheek with soft kisses.
"And why is that?"
"Because you are leaving in the morning," I explained. "And I don't want you to. I want to stay in bed with you and pretend it is still night so that I do not have to let you go just yet."
He chuckled at my words but to my ears it sounded sad. I felt bad for my behaviour; for making it so hard for both of us. But I couldn't help it.
Another row of feathery kisses was placed along my neck, slowly trailing up to my ear.
"Sweetheart, I know how you feel. I feel the same way but it is morning and we have to get up. And I will have to leave soon."
"I know," I sighed and shifted to my back, finally opening my eyes, seeking his. "I know. You're right." I held his gaze for several more seconds before pushing the covers away with another sigh and asking while sitting up: "Do we have time for breakfast?"
His hands grabbed my waist and he pulled me back down pinning me into place with his body.
"Now, I wasn't talking about getting up this instant," he told me smiling and I questioningly raised one eyebrow.
"You weren't?"
"No, I wasn't. I would very much like to have my good morning kiss first."
"Well, that depends," I replied, my hands circling his neck.
"On what?"
I smirked, lifted my upper body off the mattress to bring my mouth closer to his ear so that I could whisper: "Whether I get one too or not."
"Sweetheart, you can have as many kisses as you like."
Once again our eyes met and I breathed: "I'll hold you to your word," before I claimed his lips. He returned my kiss with a passion, tasting, nibbling, stroking and slowly coaxing my lips to part. Our tongues met in a fervent dance, teasing and stroking. His hands were everywhere and as our bodies joined as one, I gave myself to him - heart, body and soul. He owned me completely and I had never been more acutely aware of how much I loved him. Needed him. Wanted him.
I was consumed by him, totally and forever lost in him and I never wanted this moment to end.
Alas, I was not as lucky. And as a saying goes: Every good thing must come to an end. About an hour later, we stood in the hallway. He fully dressed in jeans and shirt, leather jacket in hand, me in a simple wrap. His backpack and suitcase were sitting by the door and with a small sigh he slipped on his jacket before he turned to me. I had my arms wrapped around myself, not knowing what I was supposed to do with them and even more afraid I'd break down, becoming a whimpering heap of misery. I had known from the start what I was getting myself into; had known that it wouldn't be easy; had known that it would hurt. But I had never thought it possible to feel so helpless in my sadness. To be so overwhelmed by all the emotions I felt. How was I ever going to get through the coming weeks without him?
Our eyes met and we held each other's gaze for several seconds. A small sigh escaped him and a tiny smile appeared on his lips as he opened his arms, softly saying: "Come here." And I did. I circled his waist with my arms, felt him holding me tight and I simply breathed in his scent, as I rested my head on his chest.
"You'll see, the time will pass quickly and I will be back here with you," he whispered.
"I hope so," I replied. His lips brushed my temple and I felt his hold on me tighten before he drew away slightly and ran his hands up to my neck.
"Me too," he said and kissed me. Lips searching, tongues probing for something they wouldn't be able to find - at least not this time.
"I'll call as soon as I get there," he assured me and I just nodded. My words were spent. I just couldn't say any more fearing the tears would spill from my eyes. Or words I couldn't take back from my mouth. With him holding my hand we took the few steps toward his luggage and the door. Toward my misery. He shouldered his backpack with his free hand and found my eyes again.
"I love you," he said, full of emotion, of love.
"I love you, too," I replied, only forming the words with my lips, not daring to speak them out loud. God, this was hell. Once more he pressed a chaste kiss to my lips before he let go of my hand and took hold of the handle of his suitcase. He opened the door, stepped out into the stairwell and gave me another small smile. I had to force myself to return it, leaning against the doorframe for support. The tears burned behind my eyes and I just wanted him to go so that I could finally let them flow.
"Have a safe trip," I managed to press out, saw him nod in response and smile again before taking the first short flight of stairs. He had just so reached the first landing when something snapped inside me.
"Tom!" I call out after him and launched myself forward. He only had time to turn around and let go of his suitcase before I flung myself at him, covering his lips with mine in a bruising kiss. His backpack clattered to the floor as his back hit the wall behind him. Instantly his arms wrapped around me, one hand at the small of my back, the other coming to rest at my neck. His mouth was ravishing mine and I couldn't help the soft moans nor the way my breathing grew heavy, noisily escaping me.
This was it. This was the last moment I would get with him for the next three months, two weeks, four days, eight hours, seventeen minutes and forty-five seconds. 44. 43. Approximately. I wanted to remember his kiss, his taste, his scent and the way he held me; savour it to be able to live off of that memory if the longing and loneliness would get too much to endure.
Very slowly and reluctantly he broke the kiss, a smile on his beautiful face.
"Thank you," he said, his smile widening. "Now I have something to remember when I feel too lonely."
Once more he touched his lips to mine in a soft, gentle kiss.
"Be safe," I breathed which made him smile his bright, adorable grin.
"And you be good," he replied, making me chuckle despite the tears gathering in my eyes. One last kiss before he let go of me, reached down to pick up his backpack and take hold of his suitcase. My eyes followed him and I noticed that his gaze went to me more often than it probably should have, considering he was walking down a set of stairs.
Once more his gaze met mine. A small smile appeared on his lips before he was gone from my sight but I still heard his footfalls on the stairs. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
Three more steps brought him to the door and I heard it open. As I imagined how he walked through it and outside onto the sidewalk, the tears burned in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, pressing my lips into a thin line.
Seconds later the door closed with its usual sharp thud and my eyes could not hold the tears back any longer. They spilled from beneath my lashes, running down my cheeks in cascades of salty wetness.
Like a puppet without its puppeteer I sagged and dragged myself up the steps back into my apartment. I closed the door without really noticing and padded along the hallway half-blinded by tears. Somehow I ended up in the bedroom. And as I stood there, my eyes focusing on the rumpled sheets, a smile came to my lips despite the tears. Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of my wrap, my smile grew.
I would get through this. I knew I would because I remembered what had become clear to me last night: Although he could not physically be here with me, I would still and always have his heart. And he would have mine.
