Work Text:
He used to smile into your kisses. He used to nudge your noses together, and then lean in. He used to have his eyes half-opened, as if checking to see that you were still there. That there were still a you, and not just a him.
He used to bring you coffee as you sat and read through the course literature your nightmarish professor assigned you. He’d bring you a coffee and leave it with a kiss on your temple and a reminder that you were a genius.
He used to hold your hand as the two of you wandered between the shelves of the grocery store, stopping every once in a while to point out something - something exciting, something that made him happy, something that would make you happy, too - and whisper something about it in your ear.
He used to say that the two of you were invincible, that you’d make it through whatever the universe threw at you. Whether it be a spot at some good institute in the states or wandering the streets without a krone in your pocket.
It used to be the two of you, is the thing. It was the two of you against everything and everyone else for years and months. And now it isn’t. It hasn’t been for a long time, actually. You saw an update on his Facebook, some years ago. He updated his status.
In a relationship with Markus Nilsen
It took the place of where your name had been for years and years. He never bothered to remove your name before he changed his status. It felt like he threw everything you had once had into the endless dark space only to pull down something newer, something better.
You had been so steady, the two of you, you talked about your wedding as if there wasn’t a single doubt that it would happen. And it hadn’t been either. You were both sure that you would become husbands and eventually dads, one day.
Now, when you see him in the grocery he still frequents, even after all these years, it’s not your hand that he has in his. Instead, it’s a smaller one. A child’s hand. It’s his their daughter, you heard about her a while ago. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen (she should’ve been yours, you can’t help but think).
Instead of poking your shoulder and pointing out the woman going around smelling bottles of ketchup, he points it out to the man that’s holding the child’s other hand. It makes him laugh. Then, he leans in and kisses him.
He smiles into the kiss.