Thoughts from a consumed man.
I took the job, of course. A little torture is a small price to pay if it means I can spend time with him in return. Then the hell began. I didn't know it could be so painful and so beautiful at the same time. I learned a lot about myself during that period. Mainly how a body can continue to function at that level of heartache. Food literally had no taste. I guess that's why I all but stopped eating. My music up until that point meant every kind of emotion to me. I was no longer able to comprehend it. Sleep evaded me for nights at a time until I got to the point where I'd pass out from sheer exhaustion. But still, I endured. Because with each new day came the promise of him. And he never broke that promise, not once.
We'd spend hours together. Talking, jamming, doing whatever. Just passing the time mostly. The few weeks he crashed at my place were the most difficult and overwhelmingly magnificent days of my life. It was almost too good to be true to get to wake up next to him. Well, maybe not literally next to him, but close enough. I'd fall asleep with the sound of his voice in my head. It would mingle with my subconcience and dreams had never been better. Too good to be true, for sure. Ultimately I knew it had to come to an end. Maybe that's why I wasn't surprised when it did. His mistake of passing out on Gran's couch, well I guess I should have warned him. How was I to know he'd bolt out of a moving vehicle? Not surprising, but still.
Then he disappeared. Like a phantom, he was gone. All I remember seeing was the bottom of his trench coat and black high-tops as he tumbled away from me. My heart dropped out of my stomach and ran away with him. I didn't let anyone know how drastically those few days terrified me. Then, just like that, he came strutting back to me. Like nothing had happened. After four horrific days, I could breath again. My meaning came back. I was pissed, though, and let him know it.
Our first fight. From an outsider's view it was probably pretty pathetic. He stopped talking to me. Pretended nothing had happened. I knew he'd come around eventually, just like I knew Winter would bloom into Spring. But it still wounded me. Like a hole in my chest, it wouldn't be closed until I could hear him again. His laugh, like water to a parched land, was something I needed to get through the day. It was gone. I have my pride about certain things. Things that I am unbreakable about. But with him, well, he defies all common sense. I knew he was waiting for me to make the first move. The first apology. I would have grovelled. Gotten down on my knees and begged him for foregiveness. He knew that, I think. By this point how could he not? I was his, body and soul. Dedication took on an entirely new meaning when it came to him. Nobody, not one person could be so blind as to not see what I became around him. I was myself times a thousand. All the life I possesed belonged to him. So, I made the first move.
Something had to happen. I had to know. Well, I was already surrendered to the fact that I was no longer in charge of my own life. I gave it up gladly, like an offering to the gods. To him. Always to him. There he stood, a secret gift for only me to know. And he smiled. Just smiled.