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The winter was approaching and you could sense it. Subtle changes dragged you into this forgotten routine, transforming everything around you. You noticed how each day the sun would rise later, making you disoriented by darkness in the mornings. As you left the house, the icy breeze went through your sweater, tangled your hair, and made the tips of your fingers feel numb.
“Good morning, baby.” you sent a message to your boyfriend, Simon Riley, as you were on your way to work. He was on a mission at the moment for a couple of months and didn’t reply usually, because it kept him busy. But you still wrote him short messages wishing him a good day and night or asking about his well-being. And how could you resist not sending Simon a couple of cat videos and stupid memes each day?
Sometimes, in the evening, when Simon finished earlier, he would call you and you would talk for hours until your eyes were growing tired and closed themselves.
“Sorry, Simon.” you said yawning “You should go to sleep, it’s late. I keep bothering you.”
“Keep bothering me,” he said with a hint of tease in his tone, which made you giggle
“No, you have to sleep. Can’t walk around like a zombie in the mornings.”
“Zombie Lieutenant, huh?” he blurted, unable to maintain a normal conversation because of his fatigue. The dialogue was getting more absurd and you both laughed at this.
“Simon?” suddenly your tone switched to a more serious one.
“Yeah?”
“When are you coming back?” you hesitated for a moment before asking this question, but it had bothered you for quite a while.
“I’ll be coming back soon. I promise.” He didn’t know when he was coming back. You knew the reality was different, his job was different. For him, time turned into an endless loop with days that stretched into a blur- one order after the other, bringing him closer to the endpoint, sometimes striking back even harder, bringing him to the start.
“And you, you promise me to stop worrying so much, alright?”
“I miss you, Simon.”
“Me too. I miss you too, love.”
And he did, sometimes even too much. His thoughts would wander back to you throughout the day, reminiscing on the small pecks on the cheeks, which you gave or on that special soothing smell of your skin. Simon missed unbearably your warm smiles, your supportive words, and even your corny jokes. You made him feel wanted and loved, crawling into his heart and tearing it apart pleasantly.
Simon’s absence had an impact on you too. You found yourself in a worried state. What if something happens to him on the mission? The flood of emotions over nonexistent scenarios submerged you, drifting your habits and behavior. You would zone out frequently with an emotionless face, taking a deep breath to release the tension growing underneath your breastbone.
But life continued and you had to keep up with it. The routine offered you some sort of stability and kept you busy. You stood at the bus stop waiting for it to take you home after a long shift. Heavy rain droplets were falling on your umbrella, making a popping sound. As the pavement got wet, the puddles reflected the colors of the city, making it less somber. The noise from the cars passing you by echoed in your ears and people fluttered in front of your eyes. You breathed out heavily, the air in your lungs resisted. It was hard, you silently admitted, to keep up with this mess around you.
Finally, you reached home, rushing to open the door and take off your damp clothes. Your apartment absorbed the coldness of the season, so you had to wear something to keep you warm, which was Simon’s old black fleece. He wore it for years without caring about the small imperfections caused by time. When you gave him a new one for Christmas, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to his old friend, so it was just buried in the depths of your wardrobe until you started wearing it as a p for cold days like these.
You walked to the kitchen counter to put the kettle on to make some tea. You opened the fridge, hoping to find some leftovers, since you were too tired to cook. But your fridge didn’t possess any magical powers to refill itself, so you’ve cut some bread. When the water was boiled, you made some black tea with milk to drink with your main course: bread with butter and homemade strawberry jam. You leaned back against the counter, taking a bite of the jam sandwich.
The food went down your throat sharply. Your own body started to act against you, obeying the commands of the worrying mind, which you tried to subdue. You put your plate down and covered your face with your hands. The melancholy was insidious, spreading inside your body, taking over your organs. The burden of all the longing and missing, worrying and stressing, became way too heavy to carry around. A good sleep would help you right now, so you decided to leave your Great Depression meal and go straight to bed.
However, the sound of the bell interrupts your plans. It wasn’t that late, so you thought it might be your neighbor– a sweet housewife who often checked up on you. Maybe there was a bit of pity in her towards you, but her intentions seemed genuine. Sometimes, she would invite you for dinner or bring some baked goods, as she always seemed to make too many ‘by accident.’
The bell rang again, so you rushed to the door and opened it. But this time it wasn’t your neighbor.
Simon stood in front of you, with a bouquet wrapped in kraft paper. The rain droplets rested on the rosebuds. Your gaze shifted from the flowers to his face. His hard features- heavy cheekbones, sunken cheeks, hard chin, and dark woody eyes together created an more pronounced, contrasting the weight of his face even more.
“Surprise,” he said, locking his tired eyes on yours while his smile got wider.
Without hesitation, your arms wrapped around him, drawing him into a desperate embrace. You pulled him closer and rested your wearied head on his chest. Simon’s body acted instinctively in response to your actions, his arms softly locking around you, fingers running through strands of your hair. The hug lingered, allowing both of you to melt into the shared warmth of your bodies. It was almost like you fused and became a single entity. Hot blood rushed through your intertwined veins, the lungs resonated in harmony, and the cells united.
You didn’t notice how your eyes became misty from tears, which ran down your face onto Simon’s clothes. Any attempt to conceal your emotions was useless; the sobbing only grew heavier. Gasping for air, you let out quiet, painful whimpers.
“Hey, you’re alright,” Simon whispered reassuringly as his head was brushing against yours. However, your eyes got even heavier from sorrow: salty tears rushed from your eyes. His hand reached for your chin, lifting it gently. He wiped away the tears from your cheek with his thumb. The cold skin of his hand met your burning face, cooling it down.
“Oh, Simon,” you said his name, almost as if to make sure that you haven’t forgotten it. Your hands touched his face, which was rough from not shaving.
He was looking at you, his gaze lingering on your lips and coming back to your eyes. His hand continued caressing your cheek.
But his touch didn’t help, the crying grew stronger, turning you into a mess. The howling sound escaped you, as it was difficult to breathe with a stuffy nose.
“C’ mon.” he picked you up with one arm, hand grabbing your butt, as the other one was busy with the bouquet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Simon go you to the kitchen with no effort. All those hours of training and practice gave him a rugged and resilient body, always ready to work, fight, and endure. Even clothes couldn’t conceal his physique: his wide frame, thick neck, and muscular legs, which peaked out through his jeans.
He put the flowers on the table, finally freeing his other hand, itching to feel your skin. Simon put you on the counter, a spot where your eyes could be on the same level. With gentle strokes of tissues, he wiped your wet cheeks and runny nose. He stood between your legs, which slowly wrapped him.
“Feelin' better?” after cleaning your face, his hands caressed your cheeks and the relief came to you, washing all over you like a wave of a serene sea. He didn’t hesitate to roam all over you, hands exploring every centimeter of your body. First, your hair, tucking the strands behind your ears, then your arms and hands, almost as if he was tracing your veins and analyzing your knuckles. Finally, he placed his palms on your waist, looking up to you with a concerned gaze, because of your silence.
“You alright? Is something wrong?” “No, everything is fine, it’s just...” you said that with a smile, unable to form more sentences. There was so much to say and talk about, so much to share and ask, but the thrill of his dark eyes contrasted with his light eyelashes got you intoxicated, leaving you lightheaded.
You leaned forward carefully, pressing your lips gently, curiously, almost exploring something new. Slowly the kiss deepened, leaving your mouth numb from his silken lips. Eager to taste him, feel the wetness of his mouth and the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin, you were making this kiss messier, challenging him.
He was not prepared for this and you noticed that from his accelerated breathing. You put a hand on his chest, which mounted higher each time. You decided to give him a break, your lips suddenly moving lower.
You kissed his neck: the smell of his fragrance became a melange of strong bergamot, and citrus notes, mingling with the scent of passing rain outside, adding a delicate touch.
You traced back up to his face again with a slower rhythm and after leaving your last kiss, you pulled away. Your eyes met his darkened gaze.
“Do you wanna drive me crazy or what?” he said, trying to catch his breath as he looked at your flustered face.
“No need to rush.” his fingers glided over your face carefully. “I’m not going anywhere.” “You better not,” you said with a smile on your face. His words reassured you, that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“By the way, why do you taste like... strawberry jam?” he asked with a confused look in his eyes. He looked around the kitchen, noticing the food that you left.
“Fucking hell, don’t tell me that was your dinner.” He pulled away from you, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. He was frustrated with your tendency to neglect yourself, so he took care of you.
After searching the fridge and counters, he finally found something edible. You stayed on the counter watching him curiously as he took out some vegetables, a couple of knives, and a chopping board.
“Get down. I can’t cook with you in the middle of the counter.”
You jumped down, smoothly moving next to him as he was cutting carrots.
“Can I help? »
“Yeah, you can stop walking around like that, wearing my fleece. You’re distracting.”
“In a good way or a bad way?” a smirk appeared on your face, as you stole a couple of his chopped carrots. But your teasing wasn’t working on him this time.
“Not saying anything until you eat some normal food,” he said with a chuckle, not paying attention to you purposely.
“Bastard.” escapes your mouth as you leave him, hitting his shoulder softly with your fist.
And suddenly, it wasn’t as cold as it was before. The warmth of the kitchen- now alive and used, different scents enveloped your home, together with the clattering song of pots and spoons. This almost forgotten feeling blossomed in your chest, replacing the void. All of it returned with Simon.