You sit across the room. Face down, eyes focused, one hand rested on your chin. There’s a thousand, no, a million things I wish I could cross the room and whisper in your ear right now. I can’t move, and there’s nothing I can say. I stare and it’s alright because you know me. I’m allowed staring rights. The music, our music is playing over the speakers and it’s beautiful, and you’re beautiful and it’s all I can do but smile at the way you furrow your brow, at how concentrated you are and how deliberate your face looks at this very moment in time. Your hair is messy, and you haven’t shaved in about a week but I secretly love this, even if I wouldn’t tell you if my life depended on it. I love the way you look, the way you sound, the way you smell. You glance up, curiously, eyebrows raised, as if you’re making sure I’m still there, still sitting a few feet away from you. You catch my eyes with yours, and you smirk. “Hi” you say. I smile back because it’s all I can ever do when you smile at me in that funny way you smile. “Hi” I respond back. Your eyes search mine and I search yours back. “Come here” you say, so I do. I nestle into the crook of your arm and burry my face into your shoulder. “You’re beautiful” you whisper into my ear, and warmth spreads across my whole body. You turn your attention to your computer screen again, still holding me close and I know with full confidence that I could stay here forever, in the crook of your arm, taking in the moment, breathing in the scent, memorizing every detail of you, and this room, and this house, and all the things I’ve come to like or love or miss or whatever it is I feel but aren’t sure about. The minutes on the clock tick off, one by one, closer and closer to midnight, closer and closer to our good-byes. It’s 11:15. “I have to go” I say regretfully. You look down at me, eyes a little broken. “Wait.” You say, then you stand up, and take my hand. You pull me in towards you, and position your hands in the small of my back. Music fills the room, and we begin to sway, as you hold me, and I cling to you. You look into my eyes, and it takes everything that I have inside of me not to cry, or scream, or laugh, or do something to express the millions of emotions that are running through me all at the same time, all in this same moment. You lift your hand to my face, place your fingers on my skin, glide them against the softness of my cheek, and I’m consumed by the way you look at me, and know me, and hear me even when I don’t speak…feel me, even when I don’t move. And then it’s just you and I, and it doesn’t matter that we’re awkwardly standing in the middle of your small bedroom, clutter on the floor, swaying two and fro…all that matters is that I’m yours and you’re mine. We stop for a second, and your hand engulfs mine, and they fit like puzzle pieces, and I can’t tell whose fingers are whose anymore. And it’s funny, because I don’t feel like the molecules of my body are shifting out of place like I’d expect them to. There are no fireworks tonight. There’s you, standing in front of me, me, standing in front of you. Neither of us speak because we don’t have to. It doesn’t even matter, because I know I’m home. You’re like searching all my life for something, something that I never knew I was searching for, and finally finding it. I knew in an instant. It’s you. It was always you.