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Love doesn’t die, even when you stop feeding it. There is no expiration date on the ache of missing someone you shared your heart, life, and body with.
That’s the thing about intimacy and truly knowing the person you’re with. They always know when something’s off, no matter how casually you try to sweep your unease away. They know. It’s their job, because in the song of your life, they are the ones listening. It’s when they stop that you need to worry. He’d listened to mine. He knew when a beat was missing, or a note was forgotten. He’d memorized my song, and I was his favorite.
“I’ll be the one to watch it happen,” I shouted at his back. Slowly, he turned to face me, his eyes closed with the memory of my words, his lips twisted. “Say it.” I smiled through my free-falling tears. “I told you so.”
No im literally sobbing
“Oh God,” I said weakly as the spotlight hovered on a keyboard and Ben started pressing out the melody that I’d followed my whole life. My heart thudded as unsteadily as my breathing when Reid opened his mouth and began to ask me questions. Jaw shaking, eyes flooded, I took a step forward, and then another, and then another as Reid’s edgy voice broke over the mic, raw and full of emotion. In a sea full of strangers, Reid sang to me. My favorite song, covered by his favorite band, the Deftones. “Drive”.
I have fucking chills
“Say it again, Stella. Say it again and I’ll leap across these continents back to you.”
He was my song, my soul, my everything, and his love had propelled me forward into the woman I wanted to be. And that woman would burn out with the man who was made to keep her warm.
