Spring [Completed]

NINETEEN

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HIM

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"I wish I could tell you it gets better, but it doesn't get better. You get better."

—Joan Rivers

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I'm lost, but not in the literal sense. Literally and physically, I am home, but internally I'm gone. I'm so far from okay. So far from being found.

I think I lost myself the moment I settled. The moment I let Imani walk out of my life the first time. I hadn't realized it until tonight, until she left my apartment and the intense feeling that I'd tried years to forget came crashing back. It didn't come like a wave, gradual, cautious, expected. Instead, it came like a comet, distant yet hurtling towards me with brazen speed and urgency. In an instant the forlorn yearning of a love long lost tugged at my bones, weighing me heavy to the ground.

I miss her. And as much as my mind is telling me that she's not mine to miss, I can't help myself. I can't help but be foolishly and recklessly in love with her.

I sigh as I stare up at my ceiling, wondering for the third time if she'd gotten home okay. She never texted me to let me know, but I suppose that's also because I never asked her to. I frown, fighting my restless thoughts as I place my hands behind my head and close my eyes.

Moments pass and still, sleep evades me. So instead of fighting it, I flick on my lamp and sit up in the bed, letting my comforter pool around my hips as I pick up my phone. My breathing quickens as I open our messages and stare at the text bubble. I contemplate the consequences of texting her, wondering if it would be the friendly thing to do.

I chuckle bitterly as I shake my head. Friendly. I have a handful of intentions for Imani, and less than half of them are friendly.

I almost drop my phone when three small dots form in a grey bubble on my screen. Sucking in a sharp breath, I wait for what feels like forever. When she finally sends her message, a soft smile pulls at my lips. I waited so long for a two word text, but that simple text is a gateway to a multitude of possibilities.

You up?

For you? Always, I want to type, but I stop myself. She needs me right now as a friend, so that's what I'll be. I'll be whatever she needs until she's ready. I'm certain that when she finally is ready, reality will exceed any expectations that my vivid imagination can conjure up, because it'll be real and it'll be with her.

So, instead, I play the nice guy. I say what I'm supposed to say, and I'm obliged to do so. We stay up late into the night, talking about everything and nothing all at once, and when she doesn't respond after ten minutes, I take it she's fallen asleep.

I find myself dozing off as well, so I click my phone off and smile softly to myself in the darkness.

I never expected to get so close to Imani tonight. Sure, I always flirt and make silly jokes, but I never thought she took me seriously. It feels good to know that I'm not crazy. That these feelings...they're undeniably real and they're stronger than anything I've ever felt for anyone in my life.