The lines of some sort of twisted situation-ship kept blurring, providing some weird purgatory between friendship and a relationship. Though the line was never too far crossed, only furthermore adding to the sense of confusion and hidden longing.

In an attempt to suppress whatever it was he felt, he chased after others — chasing a high he got with you but, surely, there had to be another who could make him feel the same. Girlfriend after girlfriend, one-offs, months of a relationship, same date different girl. Everything always ended. One way or another, it didn’t feel the same. You were always occupying his mind.

Set on getting the notion of you out of his mind, he distanced himself, focusing on getting over something that was never really there. Messages went unanswered, phone calls ignored. He felt like shit but this was his last resort.

As days ticked into weeks and weeks bled into months, the communication eventually ended. And you should’ve been gone from his mind.

Sitting on the balcony, cigarette between his fingers with the smoke curling in the air, clouding parts of his vision, you were all he could remember. A time where you would’ve been beside him but the ground was cold where you should be, the empty space taunting.

It was always you.

Maybe that was his moment of clarity because before his mind had caught up to it, he was out the door. A text message wouldn’t suffice, not after months of distancing himself.

The drive was a blur and he suddenly re-awoke when his feet landed on your porch and his fist raised to rap on the door. It was late, it would be no surprise if you were asleep, but he had to at least try.