Coffee Shop.

f i v e

I slept over that night. I felt as if I was a teenager again, getting all happy sleeping over at a guys, wondering whats going to happen.
Nothing happened, we didn't need anything to happen, we were content. As long as I was in his arms, I was happy.
Before him my books were my saviour. I read them to lose myself, to forget who I was, to forget literally everything around me, and all I knew was the book. I don't read as much anymore, as I don't want to forget whats around me, I don't want to forget the love of my life for even a second, it would be too painful.
I remember having the best sleep ever that night, and many more to come. He locked his arms around me, every time I would even slightly move, he would pull them tighter, he didn't want me to go anywhere.
I had fallen asleep in his embrace, hands running through my hair.
I woke up to him being gone, If you knew me, you'd never do that, for a slight second when you wake, you don't process anything, so falling asleep to someone and waking up to no one, makes you think out-rages possibilities of where they are, after that second you realise they just simply got out of bed, and you calm your heart, even for a slit second it does hurt.
He was making me breakfast, I ran to his bathroom, fixing my hair, trying to make myself look as if I woke up somewhat beautiful, I guess. So stupid.
I sat down at his marble breakfast bench, and he handed me a coffee, my usual.
And we sat and talked, about our sleep, I told him never leave me again as I slept, he thought I was crazy that I wanted him to wake me whenever he left the room, but quickly obeyed because it was who I was.
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A few weeks pasted, instead of going to our coffee shop to read, I went there to see him, the amount of coffee we drank was absolutely absurd. Every time, I mean every time, he would ask to sit in his spot with me, but I couldn't, I hated change, and every time he understood, and sat with me in mine, he asked me every single day, not giving up. And that's what I do for him. I sit here, in the hospital room, writing, asking him to wake up, every single day, not giving up.

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