You never expected to crave someone so much. The smell of his skin, the gravelly drag of his voice, his lazy smile, his fucking body. Him. Him. Him. Your brain had been infested like this since you ended things with Matt.

The breakup felt necessary. He was difficult to communicate with, too unserious when you needed him to show up for you.. and you, found yourself tolerating things that you otherwise wouldn’t approve of. You were just too close to him, you were losing your voice.. and yourself. He made you feel too comfortable. You didn’t want to bother with leaving him when staying just felt too.. good. He was so accepting of you in every way. He knew you, and he knew your body. It wasn’t easy to let go of him..

Is that why you texted him? Is that why he hardly hesitated to show up at your door?

Sure, he was trying to move on and see new people.. sure, you broke up with him first— but the breakup felt flimsy anyway, you weren’t planning to give his clothes back anytime soon. He wasn’t planning to delete those videos or pictures you’d sent him. It was safe to say, you both were holding on pretty tight.

“Gotta go.. I’ll see you later, ‘kay?” He muttered, early in the morning fog. His voice tired and scratched as he pulled himself out of your bed, and reached to tug his hoodie back on.. “you alive?” a small smirk quirked on his lips, tone ridden with exhausted amusement.