Fleeting

07.

It was the little things he did that had me falling harder and harder.

The way you uttered my name made me feel as if I were something to be revered. As if no other woman could ever compare to me in your eyes. As if I were holy.

The way you held me tightly made me feel as if I were the most delicate of china, yet the toughest of diamonds. You would cup my face in your hands gently, softly, but kiss me fast and hard as if we were the only two people left in the world and time were running out.

You would sneak into my apartment late at night because you couldn't sleep without me there (your words, not mine), and kiss me on the forehead before you silently slipped off your shoes and tucked yourself into the covers. And when you slept, you curled your large body around mine to keep me warm because somehow, even when you were asleep, you knew I got unbearably cold at night.

Sometimes, when you weren't working late, you would pick me up from my afternoon classes and we would lie in the backseat of your car talking about everything and nothing all at once. And you would pause mid-sentence and just stare at me, then you would smile, shake your head, and continue to talk as if what you were smiling about was a secret only you were allowed to know.

I especially loved it when we were eating at some diner or cafe because you would sit next to me in the booth, one arm slung over the back of our chairs, and absentmindedly play with the ends of my hair. The waiters and waitresses would give coy smiles as if enjoying the aura our affection gave off. You paid them no mind though because your attention was solely on me, even if you didn't know it. We were attuned to each other in a way that required no effort from either one of us.

I used to be afraid. I was scared that if I didn't tell you how much those little actions meant to me, then they would cease to carry all meaning. But there was no way I could put into words how you made me feel. It was all just this sense of overwhelming affection. So instead, I showed you in my own little ways.

I would wrap my arm around you when we walked together because I knew how upset you felt when you weren't able to touch me in some way. I would gently run my fingertips along your lips or eyebrows early in the morning while we were lying in bed with nowhere to go because you told me how much you loved it after the first time you caught me.

I gave you the spare key to my apartment and, unknowingly, my heart. It scared me to know the power that you held over me and to think that one day you could be gone. Though I guess that is where a sense of adrenaline kicked in. It gave me a sort of thrill to enjoy the time we shared because of the fact that I didn't know how long it would last.

To me, it wasn't a matter of if you would leave but rather when. Whether that be the very next day, or fifty years from then, I knew you would have to leave me eventually.

So I tried to engrave these memories into my mind because I also knew that when you did finally leave, these little stolen moments, the gentle little things, were what I would have to hold on to. And it would never be as good as the real thing, but I would forever cherish those memories of you even as we made them.

[A/N]

I'm so sorry! I know I'm late posting this but class work had been piling up and I've had no time to really get back into the swing of writing. The last two-four chapters (I can't remember how many there are) are on their way soon.
Don't forget to click that star and/or comment! Again, sorry!
-Livia :)

Written on: August 15, 2016
Posted on: September 26, 2016