Gordon was a writer first. You knew that going in. His God-given talent for the written word occupied the biggest part of his life.
It had been romantic at first. He was a writer, and you were a sucker for a man who had a way with words. He left you cute notes, quotes, and poems in your notebooks, on your nightstand, in your pockets. He could have been a pickpocket the way he skillfully slipped pieces of paper in and out without you ever noticing. You had fallen fast and hard.
He had too, of course. When he met you, all he could write about was light and beauty and love, and you were the picture he wished to describe. You became his biggest inspiration for his writing, and it became the center point of your relationship.
As you two wrote and read your way out of college and further into life, you both noticed a shift. You were re-reading old notes because there were no new ones after a while. He found it difficult to create romance in his stories. His focus had moved elsewhere, something else his new muse.
Had anyone asked, you both would have assured them your relationship was fine. Your wedding had been the happiest day you could remember experiencing, as cliche as it sounded. Anyone that had been there could see the bliss in both of your eyes, looking at each other with such adoring gazes the whole day. You had hoped that feeling would never leave, but now you felt it seeping out through your toes.
On an afternoon you were feeling particularly affection-starved, you let yourself into his home office, where he was typing away.
Not looking up, he lightly said, "I'm writing."
You waited a beat. Leaned back against the door, you pushed your self up to a proper standing position. "When do you think you'll be able to take a break?"
"When I stop thinking of words to type."
"Gordie, I miss you."
He stopped typing at looked over at you. "How so? We see each other everyday."
You dropped your eye contact, feeling ashamed that you would have to spell it out to him. He used to be able to tell. Had it really gotten this bad? When- "I miss feeling you. You don't hold me anymore. You hardly speak to me these days, and quite frankly, we haven't slept together I'm quite some time."
Sex had always been an open topic of conversation between you two. You both had always wanted to be able to speak freely with one another. Another crucial piece of your relationship you had felt melting away.
"You want to... sleep together?"
You sighed. "I want you to want me, Gordie. I'm tired of waiting for you to be done. I feel like a bystander to your marriage to your writing. It always comes first." You didn't raise your voice, and it never broke. You said your piece, opened the door, and left the room.
You made supper for yourself. You watched TV. You took a long, hot bath and went to bed. You didn't sleep. No matter the strength of your relationship, you couldn't sleep if he wasn't there.
Close to midnight, he slid into his side of the bed. He laid down close to you, but your back was to him. His hand rested on your waist. "Do you remember when we talked about having kids?"
"I thought it was just one?"
"Okay. One." He pressed a kiss into your shoulder. "How long?"
"How long was what? That conversation?"
"How long have I been gone?"
You exhaled deeply. "A year. Maybe longer."
"I've never stopped loving you. I hope you know that."
You flipped on your side to face him. "I never thought you did. I don't think you've ever stopped loving anything in your life." You placed your hand on his cheek. "I was worried you were in love with me. There's a difference."
"I'm still as in love with you as I was when we met."
"You can't just say it. You know that."
He sighed, closing his eyes a second longer. "I know. I just- I want you to know."
"Gordie, you understand this isn't a one-and-done type of thing, right? I can't keep just waiting around for you to remember that you love me."
He nodded.
You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his briefly. "I love you, but I need know you're around."
"Of course."
You felt a smile stretch across your lips, and he mirrored you.
"So..." you began.
"Hmm?"
"Kids?"
A devilish glint appeared in his eyes. "We could make one now, or..."
You kissed him again, laughing. "We'll get to that later."
He pouted. "But that's the best part."
"Well, I'm tired right now, so we'll have to reschedule for tomorrow." With that, you flipped back around and dug into the covers, a smug smile on your face as you closed your eyes.
Endings bro. I can't do them. It's been a while since I did one of my SBM boys, and I wanted to get out of my "high school crush" hole that I kept digging from. M'kay.
~Mariah