He was working on his computer when I walked in that evening. I haven't seen him in a month. I leaned against the door frame and smiled at him. I thought about kissing him the way I planned to but the moment didn't feel right. I don't think he missed me as much as I missed him. I can really never tell how he feels.
Later when the lights and tv were switched off we slept in each other's arms. The room was so warm I could feel the sweat form wherever our skin touched, and wherever our skin touched we would have to peel off like velcro. But then it started raining. The sound of thunder filled the room and lulled us to sleep. He woke up in the middle of the night and kissed my lips. I love it when he does that. He tends to choose moments when I least expect it.
One night became two nights, then three. A week. And the more time we spend together, the more I realise how little I really know about him despite how much he talks. I've learned things about him that made me wonder if I should even trust him. My gut tells me I shouldn't but my heart tells me to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Can someone knock some sense into me?
We all listen to him talk (because we all know he really likes to talk, so we know he is upset or in a contemplative mood if he stops) about the same problems he always has, about being proud for not giving in to the mainstream in whatever he does, even if it means he would never reach the level of success or stability in life that he certainly crave, about painting and selling his miniatures, about his weekly video, about the music and books he is working on, about the insanity and the unfairness of the world, about how the middle class should not be allowed to have problems because we have money, of life hardship and past lives, of broken hearts and damaged relationships, of pain, mostly of pain, and then worryingly about how he doesn’t talk to his family and those mean words he uses to describe his exes, that makes us think, will he talk so callously about us when he tires of us later. But we all also share those days when he would make all of us laugh, he’d entice us to hang out or visit him (I just woke up, what are you doing today? You can’t sleep? Then come over and watch that new Marvel series I just downloaded, you said you wanna watch Euro, I’m doing delivery and passing your place, I wanna invite you over but the room is so warm, my close friend just passed away, I miss your company, I’ll come and get you) and he would give all of us some room to talk about our day, groove and lip-synch to awesome music together, he’d play his guitar and sing for us, he’d let us help with his video shoot, or watch him paint or run the stories he is writing with us, post the photos and videos (you take such good photos, he’d say) we took of him (but never of us together) while hanging out to his social media, he’d pull all of us onto his lap, let all of us run our fingers through his hair while he drives, and rub his belly after he ate, scratch his balls as he is waking up, half asleep, and his back when he is falling asleep, while he moans contently.
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