Daylight crept in slowly and quietly, just like the realisation. He pulled me in closer, the realisation hadn’t hit him yet, or had it? He was in that dreamy state of morning intoxication while I reflected on why that feeling always consumed me whenever he was near. Here we were again, each other’s worst habit, engulfed by a temporary state of freedom. He was my greatest contradiction, everything wrong about him was magnetic. Night fall was the only thing that made time for us, the only time I made sense to him.
His shield up, my weapons at the ready, I knew daylight would push us into war again, and it did. It felt like I had woken up beside a stranger, yet I knew this side of him all too well. Perhaps I pushed too much, or he pulled away too quickly, but we were spinning magnets once again. I wasn’t sure if his heart or mind had let me back in, but the other one made sure I was pushed back outside again.
Later on, I waited for the typing notification that I knew would never come, stared at the ceiling, and for the 800th time I wondered: “Has he ever pressed his phone’s back button on the words that sounded just like the intoxicated ones?”