I woke up entirely too early for a Saturday, and stumbled half-open out to the kitchen. The view from the tiny second-floor window wasn't very good so I stared at the linoleum while I waited for the kettle on the stove to boil.
I shivered. It was colder than it'd been a few hours earlier.
We wandered away from our friends for a second in the carpark.
"Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?" He furrowed his brow.
I didn't look at him, I knew the look he'd be giving me. "I figured I'd find somewhere to crash later."
"Then you'll stay with me." He walked away.
The night started out quietly, we got Chinese from the place off the lane, and we ate it on the roof. We joked around like we used to back when I lived here.
I finished early and wandered over to the other side to look over the side of the barrier. The sun was just setting.
I looked around and it was hard to believe that this view used to be my entire world, those distant hills were the edge of my universe.
I stopped and stared. I snapped a photo on my phone just to take a tiny piece of this moment to keep.
He came over a little later on.
"What are you doing? Taking selfies?"
"No." I pouted slightly.
He turned and looked past me. "The sky's pretty tonight."
The sky behind the darkening hills was just turning from Orange to Pink, as it sunk behind the hill with the war memorial on it. A big white spire like something from a fairytale.
On a hill to our right a red light flickered.
"It really is. Do you think you could paint something like this?"
He paused. "I think so."
"Are you cold?"
"No, it's okay, I'm fine." He lied politely.
I stopped for a moment, and looked at him, he didn't look back. I put my arms around him.
"...wow, you're really warm."
"I've heard, yeah."
We stayed like that for just a second, just being there. The sun stopped for just a second for us.
But the night still had more to reveal just yet.
We drank, we danced, we tried to fall over, I succeeded. We came together and broke apart in the swirling bizarre phantasmagoria of a club on a friday night.
Sometimes I looked across the bar and he smiled at me, and sometimes I don't think he saw me. But I saw him, even when I wasn't looking at him.
Around 2a.m. I yawned. He looked at me.
"Someone needs to go home."
"Yeah, if I knew where that was..." I mumbled, halfdrunk.
We waved an overlong goodbye to our friends on the street, and crossed the road to his house. I knew that I should say something as he unlocked the gate, but I couldn't.
No words came. His key clicked in the lock. He looked at me.
I put my hand on the back of his neck and I kissed him.
We got lost for a second, wandering through a forest of micromovements that made up one single action.
And then he pulled away.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."
"No," he said, "That's okay."
He took my hand very softly and we walked through the courtyard to climb the steps to his front door.
I breathed smoke into the air as he opened the door.
And as I stepped inside, he kissed me.
In a way that was both deliberate and comforting, he said everything that he couldn't say in words to me during daylight.
We fell asleep together a few hours later, with my hand on the center of his chest.
The kettle finally boiled.
I walked back to the bedroom and sat, and watched him sleep. He was a vision in black sweatpants. The contradiction of him was that he took care of me, but when I needed him the most, he was the one that needed me too.
When he slept he looked more fragile than I'd ever seen him look in the daytime.
I sipped my coffee and looked out the window. The sun was starting to rise again.
And the city was calling, it was time for me to leave.
I kissed him on the cheek before I left, and he rolled over.
Six months, two breakups and a haircut later, I heard a song on the radio,
And it went like this:
"Noone's ever lost forever,
They are caught inside your heart,
If you garden them and water them,
They make you what you are."