Tokyo

I really encourage you to go ahead and click on Tokyo while reading this short story.
I wrote it while listening, completely inspired lyrically and musically. The tone of the song replicates the story.
So.
Press play.
Here we go.                                         

                                            Tokyo

Thick rain drops patter against the window in a sporadic pattern.
The room is cold. You push the side of your face deeper into the plush of the pillow supporting your head. Your hair cascades around your face, spilling over onto the white case. You snuggle deeper into warmth of the bed, the heavy comforter wrapping around your bare body. Your smooth legs glide together as you lift them closer to your chest. The room is dark, light barely entering through the slits of the blinds. A single tear escapes your eye, tricking down the bridge of your nose, sliding down your cheek.
The ghost of him melts behind you. You feel his absence, your body aching to feel his hard body pressed against your back. His long tanned arm would slide around your waist, his finger tips sneaking under the hem of the shirt you stole from him. His knees would fold with yours, perfectly spooning as one. You'd feel his hot breath hit your neck, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythmic manor, gently tapping your back. His cold toes would bump into the bottoms of your feet,  you'd nuzzle into him. He'd groan, groggily waking from his slumber. You'd feel him move, his arms pulling you against him. You'd smile. His breath would come out quicker, sleep beginning to escape him. Your hand would slide down his arm protectively wrapped around you. You'd lace your fingers with his. He'd feel you, one arm gliding underneath you to turn you towards him. You'd look up into those dark almond chocolate glazed eyes. He'd smile.
One hand would find its way into your hair. His thick lips would stick to yours. Your lips would slow dance, both of you in a half asleep daze. His fingers would curl in and out, playing at your scalp. Your hands would glide up his naked back, your touch melting his skin like molten lava. One of his legs would move to the side of your body as he shifts on top of you, just like he always does. Your hands would trail down his chest as his lips find your cheek, jawline, neck. His hands would run up your arms, moving them above your head ever so gently. Your legs would slide up the sheets, his body hovering over yours, the bed spread falling around him like a cocoon the two of you created. He would enter you, his breath slightly hesitating at the sudden pleasure. You would exhale, knowing the familiar feeling, the feeling of home, where you need to be, where you want to be. His lips would find your ear as he rocked into you, his breath tickling you as he let out sweet nothings. Your bodies would become one, a euphoric haze fogging your surroundings. You'd reach your hand out to feel him:
But this time, you catch nothing.
Your fingers spread along the empty space where he used to be.
Homesick.
If you could chose your dream
You'd just wanna
Stay right next to him.

You do the one thing you know you should never do. You click the recording on your phone you'd taken so long ago, of one of the sleepless nights you laid there, listening to him whistling into the darkness. You close your eyes. You listen.