I wish I could see your face

Why?

Once I had woken up, I realized that I was alone. My hand slid out as I gripped the sheets where my lover was seemingly moments before, feeling that slight warmth still lingered. He must've left a few minutes ago I thought as I carefully turned the other side to get out of bed.

I got dressed in clothes he had left out before he left, recognizing them as an old shirt he no longer wore. Oh how it smelled like him and that hair gel he uses. I sat back down on the bed and continued inhaling the scents the shirt contained, my mind running wild with thoughts I would usually be ashamed of. But now I have now shame as I lay back down and curl myself up in the shirt, imaging him holding my body close like he had when I had my dream, when I made him try to explain colors.

I want to see him.

But I cannot.

I want to see those freckles he says he has.

Why can't I?

I want to understand my dream.

Why must this life be cruel?

I want to read my books on my own.

Why do I have to be curios?

I want to see his body pressed to mine when it is cold.

Why?

Why?

Hours later I focus on the sound of the door opening and closing. How long had I been lying there in my own thoughts?

"Lukas!" I heard his voice call out in concern.

"Bed!" I called back and listened as quick and heavy footsteps rushed up carpeted stairs and into our room, hearing the hinges squeak as the door opened but never squeak close.

"Lukas, have you been here the whole day!" He raised his voice, a mixture of anger and worry being detected.

I gave a slight nod before suddenly feeling a great weight on me, pushing me deeper into the sheets.

"D-damnit! Don't do that. I didn't see your mug empty or see you in the living room. I-I thought you had finally done it," his voice dripped more into worry and slowly oozed into a soft whisper as something warm and wet dripped down my neck. Was he crying?

I wrapped my arms around his strong body and gripped his shirt. "I promised I wouldn't. I know you and the therapist don't believe me, but I'm not going to."

His sniffles ran in my ears so I gripped him tighter, reassuring him I was here and breathing and also reassuring myself that he was here with me and concerned for me. "After that first time...I was just so scared you try to again," I heard him whisper.

"Never."

But why?