word vomit III

long-distance.

3 may 2017; 9:13 pm—9:34 pm
4 may 2017; 7:02 pm—7:04 pm

—

she can tell he's sleepy.

it's well into the night, almost into morning hours, and she's tired as well. but she can't bring herself to shut her eyes, not even for a moment, because she doesn't want to waste a second of seeing his face on her phone's little screen.

she rests her head on her folded arms, laying down on her bed with her phone propped against her pillow. he's similarly laying down on his stomach, lazily holding up his head with his hand.

they weren't sure whether or not their relationship was deemed as "long-distance." when a person pictured a long-distance relationship, they pictured entire countries and oceans between lovers and struggling to get through time differences. what they did know, though, was that they lived at least an hour and a half apart from each other (without traffic) and therefore did not attend the same school, and again therefore were unable to see each other everyday; and they were simply much too busy to see each other during the weekends.

and although their struggles may not be as hard those who had to deal with international difficulties, their hardships were still just as real.

and as she stared at him through the handheld device that kept them able to at least communicate daily, she became strangely emotional. it might have been the lack of sleep, the fatigue, and she could have excused it as such, but he knew her more than well enough as he caught her try to discreetly wipe away her tears as though she was simply rubbing at her bleary eyes.

he said nothing of it, though. it made his heart hurt, just simply hurt, like it was being squeezed or stepped on, because he knew how she felt; he went through the same feelings as her everyday, after all. he loved her, too.

he was just as exhausted as her.

not only because of lack of sleep, but with how much his need to have her there beside him weighed down on him throughout the day.

he just wanted her to be next to him.

"hey, baby, i need to tell you something."

she blinked open her heavy eyelids, struggling to lift her head. "mm?"

"i miss you."

it was like a punch to her solar plexus. three words that they both knew to be a truth, but something that always hurt no matter what.

it was a type of unbearable pain, to miss someone. it was extremely difficult to deal with missing a person whom you could never see again, but it was an entirely different situation when you missed a person whom you talked to everyday, whom was always so close yet so far, whom was always there for you but never physically beside you to hold.

she swallowed down the lump in her throat, ignoring the ache just between her ribcage.

"i miss you, too."