You wake up in a cold sweat and jolt up in bed. Your chest is heaving and your heart is racing. You place one hand over your heart as you reach for your phone with the other. The numbers on the screen read 5:45. You know you’re not going to be able to get back to sleep, so you surrender and swing your feet to the floor. You leave your phone in your room, knowing no one is going to text you this early. He used to, but now you don’t even speak.
You sit on the counter and drink your practically boiling coffee, ignoring the way it scalds your tongue. You used to do this with him. He’d stand between your legs and drink his coffee while running his free hand up and down your bare thighs. You’d laugh together, ignoring how he was already late for whatever he was supposed to do that morning, ignoring the rest of the world. That was your specialty together, drowning out the world in your bed sheets and your laughter. Sadly, your old hiding places are places you hid from the world with him, so you can’t hide from the memories of him there.
That nightmare always comes back as soon as you think you’re getting over him. It’s not even a nightmare really. It’s just a memory, a memory of the last night you had with him, the night everything ended. There was so much shouting. He said horrible things and so did you, things neither of you actually meant. You called him distant and self-centered. You accused him of always putting his work and his work friends before you, which wasn’t true. He lost it when you called him a cheater. He screamed back at you, talking about how you didn’t trust him, how you didn’t trust anyone at all. He said he’d never cheated on you, but you were too selfish and self-deprecating to believe that. He said you either annoyed the shit out of him and bothered him all day or didn’t speak to him for a week. He accused you of never putting any effort into your relationship, of never actually loving him. He said you were incapable of love.
You cracked and told him to get out. You never expected him to actually do it. He huffed and grabbed his keys off the table before leaving you with one parting word: “Gladly.” That was the end of you and him. He didn’t call. He didn’t text. Nothing. No further contact occurred between the two of you.
That was three months ago. You two hadn’t seen each other or spoken in three months. Sometimes you check on him through watching interviews he does and he looks happy. He looks so incredibly happy. While you’re just trying as hard as you can to push your near constant thoughts of him aside. You thought about swallowing your pride and calling him, but your hand shook as you hovered over his name on your contact list. You convinced yourself that he had changed his number by now even though you knew he probably didn’t. You hadn’t tried again since.
Your cup of coffee is empty now, but you’re still holding the warm mug in your cold hands. You used to wear his sweaters in the morning, but Calum had come by to pick them up the day after you and Luke broke up. You thought about hiding one from him to keep it, but changed your mind. You wish you’d kept it for these cold mornings.
You push those thoughts aside when you hear your phone ring in your bedroom. You put your cup in the sink and hurry down the hall to pick it up. You trip over some unwashed clothes as you reach your phone and answer it without looking at it as you try to untangle your foot from a pair of sweatpants.
“Hello?” you say, your voice sounding weird since you haven’t spoken yet today.
“Hi, it’s, um, it’s Luke.”
You almost drop your phone when he says his name. You haven’t heard his voice addressing you in three months. You forgot how warm hearing him made you feel.
“Hi,” you breathe out.
“So, uh, it’s just past six am now,” he says after clearing his throat, “and I’m fucking miserable. I’m so fucking miserable without you.”
“Luke, it’s been three months and you call me now?” you say to him through clenched teeth.
“I know. I know you’re mad. And you have ever right to be. But please, baby, I’m outside your front door now. Please let me in. Or at least open the door and let me talk to you face to face. Please, baby,” he begs, sending a shiver down your spine with the use of his favorite nickname for you.
You walk to the door on autopilot. You know nothing good is going to come of this conversation. Things ended too badly. Everything was left bleeding and broken. There aren’t enough new promises and kind words to dull the scars you left on each other. Even though you know this, you open the door anyway.
You see him and you suck in a quick breath. Luke is supporting his weight against the doorframe with one hand. The other is holding his phone to his ear. When he sees you, he shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and focuses on you. His baby blue eyes are bloodshot almost beyond recognition. He looks like he hasn’t slept well in months. His clothes are wrinkled and rumpled, unusual considering that his stylists make sure everything about him looks perfect these days. His hair flops down on his forehead. It’s obvious he rolled straight out of bed, grabbed the first clothes his hands touched, and came here.
“Oh, God, you’re so beautiful.”
His voice shakes and so do his hands. His eyes are jumping all over your body, stopping when he notices you still hadn’t bothered to slide on pants before answering the door. When his eyes find yours again, he swallows hard before running a shaking hand through his hair.
“Fuck, I miss you,” he says suddenly. “I don’t have some big speech planned like they do in books and movies. I just woke up this morning and realized that I couldn’t take it anymore, that missing you had become this constant painful thing. I don’t want to be in pain anymore. God, I was so happy when you let me be your boyfriend, so fucking happy all the time. Now I’m miserable. I don’t go out. I don’t talk to anyone. I barely even talk to my family. Everything just hurts all the time. I’m tired of hurting all the time and damn it, I’m tired of not waking up next to you. I’m tired of not being able to call you. I’m so fucking tired of not being able to love you.
“I’m so sorry about that fight. Everything I said was such bullshit. I was so stressed and I took it out on you, which makes me the worst boyfriend ever and I’m so sorry. Please just take me back. Please take me back. I’ll get on my knees and beg if that’s what you need. Fuck, what’s that movie that you love and I think is stupid as hell? Valentine’s Day or something like that. Well, in it, Ashton Kutcher says, ‘There’s an ache in my gut the size of my Texas,’ about something that happens that I don’t remember. Well, fuck, baby, there’s an ache in my heart the size of Texas because I lost you. Please let me love you again. I swear I’ll do it right this time, no matter what that costs. I need you. I love you. Please.”
He pushes off the doorframe and opens his arms to you before closing his eyes tightly. He’s letting you choose him or reject him without having to make the choice when he’s looking. That’s when you know what to do. You reach out and wrap your arms around his waist and tuck your face into his chest.
“Oh, thank God,” he mumbles as his arms tighten around you.
“I missed you too, Luke,” you mumble into his chest as he presses his face into your hair. “And I forgive you for that night. I need you too. And I love you too.”
He loosens his grip on you and picks his head up. You lift your head from his chest to look up at him. He leaves one arm wrapped tightly around your waist and cups your face with one of his large hands. He smiles at you before leaning down to press his lips against yours. You pull yourself closer to him as his lips move effortlessly against yours. You always fit together so well. You don’t know why you ever thought you could fit better than this with someone. His tongue moves against yours as he slowly backs you up into your apartment.
Luke kicks the door closed behind him and manages to lock it without ever separating from you. He backs you up against the nearest wall as his mouth moves down your neck slowly, making you want more.
“I love you,” Luke mumbles against your skin, “and I swear I’m going to do it right this time. I promise, baby.”
“I love you and trust you, Luke,” you reply. “Now, remind me why I missed you.”
“My pleasure,” Luke chuckles against your skin before pressing his mouth back to yours.
