You get used to somebody


My eyes snapped open and I rolled over in bed, half expecting you to be there.

Because I swear I just felt you run your hand down the side of my cheek, the way you used to do every morning. It was your way of waking me up, and I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed it.

Until I rolled over and you weren’t there.

I dragged myself out of bed and trudged downstairs. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply, my nose searching for the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

But there was no coffee brewing.

Because you always made the coffee in the morning.

And I got used to that. Liked that you made coffee every morning, liked coming downstairs to find you sitting indian style at the table, hunched over the paper, brown hair standing up in every direction, coffee cup in hand.

I got used to the way you made me happy. The way you’d always know when something was bothering me, and all you had to do was whisper those four little words in my ear and it made everything seem ok again.

“I love you, Justin.”

I miss the nights where we’d sit up until three in the morning, just talking about nothing in particular. You’d notice a painting hanging crooked on the wall and go on about it for hours, and boring as it was, those were some of the best hours of my life.

Or when I’d get so frustrated about a song I was working on, or a dance step, because I just couldn’t seem to get it right. You could always make me laugh at myself and realize that I was making a big deal out of nothing.

I got used to rolling over at night and finding you there. Wrapping my arms around your waist, letting my fingers dance along your hipbones until you pressed back against me.

Got used to the way your name sounded on my lips when you touched me in just the right spot.

“Josh…”

Got used to making love to you all night long.

I stare out at the trees, watching the wind rustle the leaves, and god am I lonely.

“I need my independence, JC.”

The look in your eyes broke my heart a million times over, but I thought I was doing the right thing. I’m only twenty years old, I need to be on my own, right? Not be tied down when I’m so young.

Yeah, right. Look where me and my so called independence got me.

I should have been careful what I wished for. I’ve got my freedom, all right.

And so much more.

I’ve got loneliness. I’ve got fear. I’ve got regrets.

And I miss you.

God, JC, I miss you so much.

So now I’m sitting here listening to this damn Tim McGraw cd. Where the hell did I get this, anyway? Must be from Lance’s collection.

And there’s this song, and I suppose the song is what’s making me realize what a huge mistake I made, what an idiot I was.

I guess you get used to somebody, kinda like havin them around, guess you get used to the way they make you happy, bring you up when you’re feeling down…
I never dreamed when I was letting you go that I would wake up and miss you this much…

Do you know what I want right now, JC? I want you to be here, sitting at the kitched table, drinking your coffee.

And I want to come downstairs, kneel down beside you, and wrap my arms around you, just so you’ll kiss the top of my head the way you always do.

I don’t want my freedom anymore, JC.

I only want you.

***

I knocked at the door and waited for him to answer, picking at my nails as the minutes passed by.

When the door finally clicked open and I saw him standing there, I felt like I got the wind knocked out of me.

He looked…

God, he looked beautiful. Sad, lonely, upset, yes. But beautiful none the less.

His blue eyes widened when he saw me, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head, silencing him.

He closed his mouth and looked to the floor, tears brimming in his eyes. I put a finger beneath his chin and tilted his face up to mine.

“I got your letter.”

He nodded, not sure what he should do or say, so I pulled him to me and kissed the top of his head.

Because I got used to that, too.



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