You haven’t messaged me back all day, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t worrying me. Not even a check in to make sure you’re still alive and haven’t drowned in a sea of school work. I know you’re stressed, but come on.

That’s how I find myself standing outside your apartment door, with my hand in my pocket fishing for my key ring. It’s times like these that I appreciate us having keys to each others places.

We traded keys a few months ago because of how different our schedules are. Sometimes I have a late night and will sneak into your bed when you’re asleep, and sometimes you want to use my shower when I’m not home because it’s better. It’s easier like this. I love it. Even if I’m secretly counting down the days for when you graduate and you can just fully move in with me. After two whole years of dating, I’m sure about you, about our future.

Even if some people may be iffy.

Seeing as I’m a thirty year old in the spotlight, and you’re a 23 year old college student, people definitely have their opinions. I know the age gap can raise some eyebrows, but we’re also not doing anything wrong. We met when you were 21 and you’re graduating in a few months. Plus, we’re happy. Happiest I’ve ever been, actually. So, who cares what they say.

My key unlocks the door and it creaks open as I enter. You know that I’m coming over, or at least I let you know via a delivered text message. The apartment is dark, only illuminated by the soft warm glow of your few lamps littered around the room. The ones you bought because you hate the ‘big lights’.

As I walk further into the room, I find you. Sitting at your dining table with your knees pulled up to your chest, you have your headphones in as your eyes stay trained on the papers in front of you. I don’t want to spook you, so I approach slowly, placing a gentle hand on your back when I’m close enough. Still, you jump.

When you tear out one of your earbuds, I speak. “Hey, baby… Still studying?”

You nod solemnly, wiping a hand down your face in stress. Finals are coming up and you’ve been working yourself to death. I’m anxious for all of it to be over with so you don’t have to worry like this anymore.

And so I can have you all to myself, but that’s besides the point.

I take a seat next to you at the table, my hand still on your back rubbing soothing circles over your shirt. “Anything I can help you with?”