he needs me

it had been a long day. on what was supposed to be your day, your mother had made it all about herself. smile, celebrate, fawn for all that she’s doing for you. after all, shouldn’t you be grateful? look at how much money she’s dropped. look at how many years she’s wasted on you. all of it for you. but that’s how it always is. you can’t take it anymore.

that’s why this year you decided on brunch for your birthday: for the simple fact that you could spend the rest of the day with your boyfriend. rushing over immediately after the meal to burrow in his warm arms. he strokes your hair and lowly whispers “i know” into the top of your head as you rant about how much you hate birthdays and your family and most of all your mother.

and when you’ve gone the entire day without a single gift, here’s the bag. completely unprompted and unexpected and exactly what you wanted. something you were too scared to be found wanting of. but it fits in your hand like you’ve been waiting for years… and maybe you have.

you’re blushing and all over him because of course he listens and of course he knows you better than anyone else in the entire world. only he would save up for a gift when friends forget and family disappoints.

you’re attacking him with a flurry of appreciative kisses when his mother comes in. hands full of groceries as she stumbles through into the kitchen. you rush to help and realize, she remembered too. flour, sugar, and milk so she could make a cake for you. and you slowly start to realize…

a beat.

a second.

a minute.

you’re crying. slow, warm, thick tears frantically escaping which you desperately try to hide. how embarrassing is it to be crying on your birthday? why would anyone like you ever cry on their birthday?

you have a boyfriend who knows you and loves you more than anything. a future mother-in-law who recognizes your needs. everything is perfect and everything is right. and for the first time ever, all the love you expected to flood on your birthday finally comes true. and you finally found a family that loves you when everything else feels so shit.

so you keep crying, wiping running mascara and laughing at how silly this all is. how silly it is to wait so long for a truly happy birthday.

happy birthday. that’s the text you’ve been waiting to receive all night from… well, anyone really. an old friend. an ex. even your mother because you know she’s still awake. but it’s only 11:47pm and there’s still time. you wait, staring at the ceiling, imagining the love you have yet to receive. awaiting a day all about you, where you are the most loved person in the world. 11:57. 11:58. 11:59. ping!

the message arrives before you even have time to process. like his fingers were just itching, like he couldn’t even wait. well that or he anticipated cyberspace lag and wanted to get it out at the perfect time. either way, you can’t truly admire the message because it’s interrupted by a phone call. him. you answer.

“hello?”

“happy birthday, sweetheart”

“it’s the middle of the night. shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

“celebrating what? it’s the middle of the night?”

you can tell he rolls his eyes even though he’s through the phone. “the fact that you lived another year. the fact that we get another year together.”

“sounds kind of romantic when you put it like that”

“everything about you is romantic”

you yawn. “aww, baby. that is very sweet”

“you should get to bed. your beauty rest is very important since i have lots of things planned”

“you do?” and you stifle a smile with a bite to your lip.

“yes, now sleep and happy birthday. can’t believe there’s a whole day dedicated to my favorite person in the world”

you both chuckle. “can you believe it happens every year?”

“sometimes feels like it happens every day”

“alright, good night, you’re making me sick. love you.”

“i love you too”

you two have been out today for the past three hours, the hot summer sun beating down on your skin. a glittery sheen of sweat adorns your respective shoulders as he walks you back to your car. his hand rests on your lower back, slowly curling around your waist until his palm is flush against your lower belly. you try hard not to blush, leaning subtly into his touch. warmth and safety slowly enveloping your body and soul.

you reach your car and stop beside the driver’s side door. he looks you up and down, glancing longer at your lips before meeting your eyes. you look away for a moment, but his hand finds the side of your face. he brushes a piece of hair from your eyes and tilts your chin back to him. you meet his gaze. his shining pools of light beckoning you closer. you struggle to hold from the intensity.

you wet your lips just a tad, unconsciously though immediately drawing his attention back to your mouth. you know what’s coming. he’s close. feet slotted between yours. inner thighs touching. his fingertips against your cheek. you swallow.

your heart beats an impossible rhythm against your ribcage as you watch him lean in slow motion. soon, a hand is on either side of your face. holding you still, but soft and sensitive. his eyes scan each muscle in your face as they tremor and he inches toward you.

and he’s here. touching you. kissing you. your eyelids fall shut just a second too late and you feel your lips linger just a second too long. it’s over. you’re internally cursing yourself for being so stiff, so stupid, so wrong. but you catch his eyes. big and blown and totally, completely in love. in awe of you and all that you are.

and he’s so incredibly blessed to be on the same earth as you. at the same time and in the same spot. he’s metaphorically down on his knees thanking his lucky stars and you can’t help but share in his joy. a small shy quirk creeping onto your lips as the memory infects you both. stirring the deepest untouched parts of each other only to reassure that it’s real.

he’s here. you’re here. and for the first time in forever, neither feels like running from the most human part of themselves.

music pours from every angle of the house as you navigate through the crowd and the ground practically squeaks under the weight. all you can smell is booze and sweat as your shoulder bumps against at least fifteen other people. on the search for your boyfriend, you peek your head around numerous different corners, only to find him sitting on the kitchen counter. surrounded by a small group of friends and nursing mystery liquid out of his red, plastic party cup. you stand onto your tip-toes to shyly wave at him and he catches your eye. his focused gaze immediately brightens at the sight of you and he holds his hand up in the air, calling your name.

your lips fix into a small smile and you calmly maneuver over to him. he reaches a hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you close between his legs. in an instant, everyone else is forgotten and it’s only your little world. he leans down close, almost pressing his forehead against yours. words are merely a low rumbling between your respective lips when he asks, “where have you been? i missed you.”

he kisses the tip of your nose and you can’t help but offer a closed smile. “just walking around, looking for you. you’re like a ghost.”

he chuckles and pulls you even closer to his hands can run up and down your sides in a slow, lazy pattern. “i’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to abandon you.”

you brush his comment off, “it’s alright. are you having a good time?”

“having a great time now that you’re here. you look good.” his eyes wander casually down your form, taking in how each item of clothing only accentuates your body’s curve. you suppress a blush and roll your eyes.

“well, that’s good and thank you. also you already said that tonight.”

he chuckles self-consciously and shakes his head, affirming to you that his statement still holds true whether it’s the first or hundredth time tonight. you look up at him through your eyelashes and he places a gentle kiss on your lips. neither of you are really big on public displays of affection, but you can’t resist when he’s here and looking so radiant under the warm kitchen light. cheeks slightly flushed from alcohol and all his attention focused on you.

his hand tickles up your arm and over your shoulder until it finally lands at your neck. long, slender fingers wrap around the back of your ear and you feel as his thumb swipes across your lower lip.

“do you want to get out of here?”

straddling his thighs with chests pressed against each other as his hands rest against your back. touching every possible surface, slipping under your shirt and playfully pulling at the elastic of your bra strap. you nuzzle your face against his chin and pepper tiny kisses along his jawline. he giggles from your ticklish actions, but doesn’t pull away. you flick your tongue over his soft flesh and he pinches at your side. you squirm, but he tightens his grip and holds you to him. your ribs knock against his and you pull your face back. staring deep into his eyes as he looks in yours. whirlpools. your noses brush at a centimeter apart. he tilts his head inquisitively. you take the opportunity to lean forward and press your lips together. just a gentle touch at the corner of his mouth before you move closer. breathing directly into his throat as he beckons you in. your lips wrap around his and push with gentle pressure. slotting plump between his desperate wanting. he immediately sucks and nips at your bottom lip. your body adjusts above him, lifting onto your palms to angle yourself better. his hand slides down to your waist and steadies you with a hand at hip. thumb rubbing soothing circles and dipping experimentally beneath the hem of your pants. your free hand travels up and cups the side of his face, pleading not to move. his body arches automatically off the bed to be closer to you and your breath halts from the increased contact. stomach filling with the most aggressive lovesick butterflies. your fingers tighten against his cheek, his eyes roll back in his head in bliss. you kiss and kiss and kiss until breathless. each burying yourselves in the other, gasping. humidity growing between helpless bodies. clawing at pieces of heaven.

it’s your first time over at your crush’s house, drinking shitty canned vodka and chatting on the couch. hours have gone by just staring into his eyes as the sun slowly sets, bathing the room in a warm glow. shadows dance under his chin and within his dimples as he speaks. surely your mouth is hanging open from how much you’re objectifying and tuning out every word he speaks. if this were a cartoon, maybe you’d even drool. a car zooms by the street outside and he jumps, spilling his beverage into the cushion below. you crane your head to check outside through the curtains. “are your parents home?” you ask and he shakes his head, using tissues to wipe up the accident.

“no, but maybe we should go upstairs,” he says casually, glancing at you with that stupid smirk and shiny white teeth.

you’re taken aback for a second, breath catching in your throat before you nod. anxiously, you tap your nails against the aluminum can. “okay,” you reply softly.

he tosses the few napkins and leads you to throw away your cans before heading upstairs. you follow, slowly and willing your hand not to shake on the railing. it’s fine. you’re just going to his room. nothing bad is going to happen. watching his back calms your nerves in the best way possible. god, his shirt fits so well and his jeans… you can’t pull your eyes away from the denim curving over-

he pushes through the dark wooden door and his cat runs quickly by your feet, yowling. no one says anything. you look his room up and down, taking in each poster above his desk. you want to speak, compliment, but no words come out. the area takes on a violet hue, absent of light, and he crawls into his bed. you linger awkwardly in the center of the room.

“you can close the door,” he says and you gently push it to. you find yourself walking up next to him and leaning curtly on the edge, just barely placing your weight down. he chuckles to himself and lifts his comforter. he beckons you to come closer with a tilt of his head and without hesitation, you move as if pulled by a magnet. he flashes that stupid smile again as your body moves and crawls in next to him.

your back brushes his chest, but no one makes any further contact until experimentally, his fingers reach up to brush through your hair. he curls the end around his fingers and your stomach leaps. you can feel the careful tug against your scalp and it takes everything not to let out a pleased hum, lest you scare him away. you two stay like that for a while as the room slowly gets darker. just basking in the silence until his sweet, melodic voice breaks it. “is this okay for you?” he mutters.

you nod, responding, “it’s perfect.” a bright white light scrolls past the window pane, his parents at last. but neither of you can bring yourselves to move from this spot. “can i see you again on saturday?” he asks.

“yeah, of course. i always want to see you.”

you and your boyfriend are cuddling on the couch watching one of your favorite romantic comedy films. since you’ve seen this one upwards of twenty times, your mind begins to wander and all the stresses of life slowly catch up with you. guilt clouds your mind and responsibilities scream your name as you attempt to enjoy your evening. you’re not sure whether to blame burnout or imbalanced hormones, but the last few weeks have been emotional hell. suddenly it all culminates and you’re crying again, just like every day this week.

a tightness in your chest and a sore burning in your sinuses alert that tears are coming. you try to will them back, but it’s no use as slow, thick tears roll down your cheeks. he looks down at you from where your head rests against his shoulder and brushes a hair behind your ear. “hey, shhh, what’s wrong? should i turn off the movie?” he asks and you shake your head, unable to respond. you feel stupid for crying over nothing and you know talking will only make it worse. his arm around your waist grips even tighter and holds you to him.

your body slides down along his side until your head is resting childishly in his lap. he says nothing, knowing you probably don’t want to speak right now, but moves his hand into your hair. fingertips press into your scalp and soothe your incoming headache from the outside. instinctively, you lean into his touch and sniffle. trying to focus on the feeling of him and not the weight of the world. you let out a gentle whimper and he whispers tenderly, “it’s okay, you’re doing so well, love.”

you smile despite yourself and wipe the wetness from your cheeks. you’re unable to suppress pitiful and humorless the chuckle from your chest as he continues, “there’s nothing to worry about, okay? i’m right here and you can cry for as long as you want to, my sweet girl.”

you curl into a ball next to his legs and his hands travel down your body, making stops to massage the back of your neck and jutting shoulder blades. after a couple minutes, your trembling subsides and you start to lift your head. he coaxes you back down into his lap. he’s shaking his head with that smug smirk on his face that you can’t see but know is there. “just lie down. i’ll get you anything you need.”

you reach your hand up behind you and he finds your fingers easily. slender fingers curl around each other and you squeeze tightly to feel each vein and bone under his flesh. he brings your hand up to kiss the back of it and you smile. your entire body relaxes against him and the various aches slowly fade away. you croak a small, “i’m sorry-” and it hardly escapes your lips before he cuts you off, affirming there’s nothing you need to be sorry for. “just rest and we can talk about it later. i’ll even make some tea”

you mutter weakly, “thank you,” and eyes flit up to the television screen again. no one says anything, but no one has to. you just understand each other that well. almost telepathically. your heart slows in tranquility knowing he won’t make you speak up if you don’t want to, and he’s here for you even when you don’t. he allows you to exist wholly as you are. and in this moment, all you have to be is you.

you’re lying in his bed on one of the few nights his mother let you stay over. dressed in one of his old t-shirts and cotton boxers that send shivers up your spine every time you remember where exactly they’ve touched before you. phone is in hand as you scroll and he brushes his teeth. occasionally running in and out from the bedroom to tell you another dumb thought he had — apparently he couldn’t wait the two minutes to finish brushing.

he finally re-enters the bedroom, shutting the door with his foot and crawling into bed. he takes your phone from your hand and puts it aside, filling your hand with his instead. you feel as his front presses against your chest. face buried against your shoulder but tilted up so his nose tip just barely tickles your neck. his lips give a subtle pucker to whisper a kiss against your skin. you offer a closed mouth smile and your arm wraps around him, slipping under the hem of his sleep shirt and fingertips brushing the knobs of his spine. satisfied sighs leave both your chests as his long arms wrap around your torso, pulling you two impossibly closer. legs slip between each other and you cup his face. fingers wrapped around the back of his head while stroking his cheek and whispering sweet nothings. he murmurs a whimpering, “i love you,” and you reel: head spinning and heart pounding and stomach leaping. you kiss the top of his head, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of his hair and whisper back, “i love you, bambi.”

he nuzzles closer until not an inch of your bodies are apart. you reach to turn the light off and he pouts, pulling you back down before you have the change to reach the switch. “don’t go,” he whines and you pat his lower back, where your hand still rests under his shirt. “just let me turn the light off,” you coo in a soft voice as you’re finally able to flick the light. you yawn and he yawns back in response.

you tilt your head to rest partially on top of his as your eyelids begin to droop and you slowly drift off. the nerves in your body finally going quiet as you fall peacefully asleep under him. your hand stills on his back and he lifts his head slightly to kiss at your cheek, “good night, darling.” he finds his place again tucked under your chin and sleeps too.