solby | miss missing you

one.

baby, you were my picket fence.

it was all so perfect.

respect, attention, balance, ambitions.

their relationship was perfect. flawless. beautiful. it was full of loving embraces, stolen kisses, wholesome stories, fluffy feelings. happiness was radiating off them, they had a future, so many plans they spent hours on. they'd looked at houses, thought about whether they wanted a garden, or a pool, or both, and then had settled for none because nothing could top a cute little terrace that came with the small but cosy apartment of their dreams.

they were going to get a dog, maybe two, but not so soon because they were still young and too reckless to take care of another adorable being.

their mornings were warm and colorful, even in the winter where the world turned white and the sky turned grey and the sun was barely peeking through the clouds to illuminate their love. they didn't need that, their eyes sparkled enough to light up the whole place.

at night they held each other close, so so close as if they were scared the other would disappear. they'd seen tears, scars, battles and they'd gone through it all together. because they were stronger that way.

everything just felt so right. they belonged with each other, were so good to one another and there was no doubt in anybody's mind that they were made to be together.

but they'd been too sure, too soon.

and now, here they are.

it's heartbreaking, how it all shattered so easily. how a bond that had taken so much love and time to build fell apart in only a matter of days, of shouts and misplaced words. no more smiles, no more sparkly eyes, no more raised dimples and light hearts.

every step was heavy.

every box felt like a hundred rocks.

the weight of their memories was too much to carry, yet the brunette had to. he had to bring his part of the place, what was his and he'd hoped would become theirs. shoulders slouched, heads low, faces blank. it was as though an eternity had passed before the apartment was free of the brunette's belongings, yet it was still fuller than both of their hearts combined.

ever since colby left, time ticks by slowly.

the day blends into the night, or maybe it's because sam hasn't seen the daylight in days.

if he listens closely, he can hear knocks on the front door from his bedroom, the quiet pleas of his friends bouncing off the walls but never seeming to reach his ears properly. they know that he knows they come, he knows that they know he's ignoring them.

and it feels like talking to a wall.

well, to a door.

the white door has never looked darker, duller. dust has coated on the handle, the keys were left untouched in the keyhole, making it impossible for his friends to come in even with a spare key.

trembling fingers buried in greasy blonde hair, shaky exhales escaping chapped lips, sam sits.

silent.

he sits and he waits and he doesn't know what he's waiting for, but he stays.

he sits because his legs can't carry his weight and it feels like the more time that passes, the more he's losing his grip on reality.

and it's good.

he doesn't want to feel anymore, he doesn't want to remember anymore.

he's tired of all the memories slapping him across the face, the whimpers that pathetically leave his mouth every now and then. it hurts, so bad, no matter how hard he's trying to will the pain away. it hurts and there's nothing he can do because whenever he blinks, he sees colby's smile and colby's eyes and whenever he exhales, he still feels colby's breath fanning on his lips.

it hurts, when he takes a look around the room and realizes how empty it is, how dark and dull colby left it.

it should've been loving. pictures hung up on warm colored walls, posters, wooden furniture. a messy bundle of sheets on the bed, trace of how sam might've ran away from colby one morning because the brunette had just threatened to tickle him until the blonde couldn't breathe anymore. phones sitting on the night tables, put aside whenever the couple spent time together. perhaps a vase with flowers, clothes messily thrown across the room, a loveseat in the corner.

so many things are missing.

so many things should've belonged there.

so many things sam will never see anymore.