For the longest time

XIV

For the longest time, I didn't know what I wanted

Until I met him

Tastes better than cigarettes
Smells richer than vodka
More addictive than heroin

Don't need no swearing, nor words, no sounds

A subtle, burning desire

Tap, brush, rub, stroke, squeeze

Tingles, goosebumps, shivers, earthquakes

Electrifies my body, intensifies his waters

He lays his love on me

All I wanted was him
Co-exist

Ed was back in England, sometimes we spoke online, and sometimes we didn't hear from each other for weeks. He was spending time with his family and writing new music, I was working on putting together a portfolio and meeting with every single editor I could find.

Eventually, I published my first book of poems and it did well enough for me to rent a place in Williamsburgh. I invited my ginger muse over for a celebratory drink, but he couldn't make it. He invited me over for his birthday, but I couldn't go.

We grew apart and went back to being acquaintances. But this time, the admiration was mutual. He tried to promote my writing as much as he could because he believed in my talent, and I never ceased to love his music. Some nights I missed his hot sweaty skin on me, and I cried myself to sleep. Every time I heard his voice on the radio, my mind took me back to that shitshow I met him at, to SNL, to the diner and the fries and the mayo and the milkshake, to Freddie's place, to the bar where he was a soccer player and I was an awarded writer.

And I missed him. 

I missed him until I met new people and made new friends. I started dating someone who cooked me dinner and breakfast in bed. I missed him until the heartwrenching feeling vanished and all that was left was this immense gratitude for his presence when I was lost. He started dating someone else and sometimes I would see pictures on social media, the veil had completely disappeared from his eyes.

I got a handwritten letter, shoved under my new apartment, I immediately knew it was from him.

Erin, we haven't spoken in so long but I wanted to say I'm really fucking proud of you, and I'm proud of me as well. I'm proud of both of us because we were both a mess when we met and I think we helped each other during that dark period in our lives. I love your book of poems and I showed it to Cherry and she loved it as well. She thinks you're really talented. I'm so happy for you and Luke, I can tell you make each other really happy and honestly that's all I've ever wanted for you. I'm happy for you, Erin. I'm happy because you are and because I am as well and I don't know, I just think it's amazing. I love you, York. I will always love you because- not because you helped me be who I am today or because you are who you are (I mean, yes, that too) but because, and this is really really important: because what we did, you and me, was something beautiful. We made art and we made each other hopeful. That is not something that I take for granted.

                                     - Ed

****

Short ending to this story that I really enjoyed writing and sharing with you. (Short because I fucked up my hand so yeah)

Thank you everyone for reading every week and voting on this and I'm really happy how this all turned out. Special shoutout to GingerNineIncher because she is a huge inspiration to me. She has some of the BEST stories here on Wattpad and I love her writing and her characters. I once talked to her and she encouraged me to write this story so thank you.

Maybe, when my hand heals, I'll write another fic and I hinted it on this chapter. Can you figure it out??

Love you all

-TJ