solby | miss missing you

prologue.

sam misses him.

well, not him.

he misses the thought of him.

sam doesn't miss his hands, he misses the touch of fingers lightly running up and down his sides, the feeling of hands playing with his hair gently, curling and uncurling the soft, blonde locks.

sam doesn't miss his eyes, he just wishes he could see all the care, all the love and admiration they used to hold, again. he misses the way the ocean orbs would flicker to his lips, dance around his face, squint and blink as if they told a story his lips couldn't.

sam doesn't miss him, but now his bed feels empty at night. the sheets are cold, the mattress is neat, devoid of the dip there once was. his coffee machine is never on anymore, his blinds stay closed, his front door locked. he doesn't even know when was the last time he went outside, or the last time he cared about groceries. it's only been two weeks, but to sam it feels like months.

sam wants him back, but not for him, only for the presence of someone, the warmth of a body, the shine of a smile, a reminder of happiness, of how it feels to look forward to the next morning and to give so much love to one person, to feel devoted to them, ready to put his own needs aside to tend to theirs.

sam wishes he could miss him.

but he doesn't.

•  •  •

welp, here's another story. i was inspired and felt like the lowercase went well with the story. honestly dunno where this is going but oh well, we'll see.