You really hadn’t even been a true morning person, but when you moved in with your boyfriend you where slowly warming up to what you had considered to be an inhuman hour to be awake.
On mornings that he wasn’t on tour you always woke up in his secure embrace. His face would be tucked close against your neck or nuzzled into the skin between your shoulder blades, his beard and long hair tickling your skin where it touched. You’d feel his warm breath against your skin long before you were even half awake and when you stretched, his arm around your waist would tighten and tugs you back against his chest. He’d still be half asleep and wouldn’t say anything as you slipped from his grip to get ready on the days you had to go to work. But he would attempt to tug you back into bed with a hand clasped over your wrist when you went to kiss him goodbye, it usually ended up with both of you in a pile of muffled giggles.
You always liked waking up encased in his arms but lazy mornings when he was home, like today, were definitely your favorite type of mornings.
He was awake long before you were, resting on his side with the covers halfway off and he was trying to wake you a slowly and gently as he possibly could, taking his time to savor each moment he had with you. He was skimming his fingers over your skin, drawing mindless patters as you stirred briefly and cuddled back, moving closer to press against his bare chest. You were still blissful in your sleeping state and it brought a smile to his lips. He brushed your hair off of your shoulder and neck placed a barely there kiss behind your ear. It was these soft, slow and gentle open kisses that he was trailing along your bare sun warmed shoulder and neck that brought you to the brink of consciousness.
“Good morning,” he whispers against your skin with another kiss as you stretched out next to him. You give him a small whimpering breath in reply before turning and burying your face into his chest. “You don’t have anything today? Right?” He questions as he slowly rolls onto his back, pulling you up onto his chest as he goes. Your legs tangle together under the wrinkled bed sheets and his body is warm against yours.
Your reply is a mumbled and tired sigh against his pale skin. “No…” You take a deep breath that turns into a yawn and briefly look up into his emerald green eyes before snuggling back down into his chest. “Why do you ask?”
His fingers are on your back, brushing up and down along your spine. “I wanted to make sure I had you all to myself today.” His low voice rubbles against your skin, making your head vibrate where it’s pressed against his chest. He stretches underneath you, trying to settle back comfortably against the headboard behind him and lets out a yawn before pulling you even closer to him with his arms resting on your back.
You both fall into a comfortable silence, just relishing each other’s company. Mornings like this don’t usually happen, most of the time you’re off to work and he’s gone a good portion of the year on tour. So when you do get a chance to rest together like this, you always make the most of it. He continues to keep playing his fingers along the bare skin that peaks out from underneath your tank top, while you slowly drift off back into a half awake state.
“I don’t think I’m never not going to miss this.” He states aimlessly into your hair after placing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Good.” You drawl out tiredly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. “Now shush.” You lazily press a hand up and onto his face, your fingers poking into his beard instead of landing on the intended target of his lips. You can feel him silently chuckling under you. “I just want to go back to sleep and you’re really warm. I promise that you can have more cuddle mornings like this later.”
“As long as you’re in my arms, I’m good.” He sighs, sinking back down to lay flat against the mattress. You move along with him, stretching out along his body. “Besides, this is what lazy mornings are made for.”
Thanks for the bacon
You never thought that you could be both so tired and so happy at the same time. Last night you had finally, finally seen your favorite band in concert. The smile that had formed on your lips last night when you walked into the venue hadn’t left yet. It had stayed all through the walk with your friend to the hotel you were staying at, all through the night and it was still in place as you two walked down the hallway to get breakfast.
“You’re still smiling like an idiot.” Your friend said laughing as she pressed the elevator button.
“I can’t help it!” You mock wine to her, “I keep replaying it in my head.” You shrug your shoulders. “What’s a girl to do?” At least you had stopped bouncing up and down in excitement a once the concert over.
“You’re right.” She chuckled and smiled brightly. “I still can’t believe we met them!”
You both had agreed to stay after the concert and wait to see if you could chance meeting the singers. You had heard that they were really good about meeting their fans, even the ones who didn’t get a VIP ticket to the concert. Eventually it had paid off, you took photos and had some things signed. And you actually managed to speak clearly when you met them, for which you were infinitely proud of yourself.
The elevator dinged, signaling that you had reached the ground floor and you got out to search for the promised included food. It was a common breakfast bar, filled with all different varies of things. Your friend went tot the cereal portion and you made a bee-line for the eggs and bacon. There were a decent amount of people in, so you hoped to get at least one piece of bacon. When you got to the hot pan, there were only two pieces left and you took both, inwardly doing a little happy dance.
“Aw man, no more bacon?” A deep voice grumbles behind you and you freeze, your eyes going wide.
You know that voice, you spent the last twelve hours being mesmerized by it and it’s one of the five reasons that you’ve had a giddy smile just as long. Turning slowly, you brace yourself so that you don’t flip your lid at him being so close and while you’re in your comfortable travel clothes no less. It’s him, compete with beanie and beard. You clear your throat so your voice won’t sound squeaky (hopefully) and his head tilts up, his green eyes sending butterflies to your stomach. “I can deal with one piece of bacon.” You tell him and then you gesture to your plate. “You want the other?”
His eyes light up. “Are you sure?”
“It’s no problem.” You smile at him, letting him take the bacon from your plate with his fork. You don’t even let him get in a thank you before you turn and walk to meet your friend. You felt like you were going to explode with excitement and you manage to make it to the table your friend it at while a smile so big it hurts your cheeks.
“What?” She says with a cheeky smile and takes a mouthful of her cereal. You look at her pointedly. “What?” You jerk your head back towards the breakfast bar, where you’re sure the rest of the band has followed the bass players steps and are grabbing their own plates of breakfast. Upon laying eye upon the scene behind you, your friend chokes on her mouthful and swallows painfully. “No way. Oh my god, no way!”
You shush her. “Don’t flip out too much.” She’s smiling as wide as you are now and you both are peeking over your shoulders as the band sits only a few tables away. Then when the bass singer catches you starring and smiles at you, your face flushes red and your suddenly become very interested in your scrambled eggs.
You’re almost done with your breakfast when your friend hits your foot with hers. You ignore it at first, but then she kicks your shin. “Ouch! ” you exclaim loudly. “What the heck was that…” your voice softens in shock when you see the bass singer is headed towards your table, “for.”
“They put fresh bacon out.” He says a bit awkwardly with a gesture to the breakfast bar. “I – uh, I’d thought I’d let you know.”
You nod your head yes and managed to speak, but your voice sounds a little more star struck than you might have liked it to. “Okay… thanks…” You stare at him and you’re pretty sure that your friend is slack jawed, but you can’t look away from his face in fear that it might just be a dream.
“We met last night, right?” He nervously shifts his weight onto one foot. “After my show?”
Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re pretty sure most of the color has drained from your face. “Yeah…” you answer him weakly. “You guys rocked it.”
He laughs, then adjusts his beanie atop his head. “Thanks, that means a lot.” He sticks his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket that he seems to be favoring this tour. “I – um, I should get going. Thanks for the bacon.”
You clap hand over your mouth the moment he’s out of your line if sight. “Did that just happen?” You ask your friend with a shaky voice, your both probably in shock. “Cause if this is a dream, I don’t think I want to wake up.” Your friend can going shake her head in answer.
You make sure to finish your breakfast slowly and walk at a snail’s pace back to your rooms to get packed. Both of you want to relish in the fact that you’re so close to your favorite band. As you past their table, you catch whispers.
Is that her?
Yes, don’t say anything.
If you won’t, I will. You might never see her again!
You and your friend make it out of the breakfast area and then burst into giggles. It’s mostly out of shock, but then the giggles are caught in your throat when the tall blonde races out to catch up with you.
“I told him I’d say something if he didn’t.” He says with a smirk and then holds out a napkin with writing on it. “He thought you were cute and he wanted to say thanks again for sharing the bacon.” Then he returns to the rest of the group as you stand there shell shocked into silence, your mouth gaping open.
“Geez,” your friend wheezes out. “Next time I’m getting bacon, screw cereal.”
Check the Weather
It was cold, it was wet. You really should have checked the weather before you had left your apartment, but you had seen the five day forecast earlier in the week so you thought that you were good. It did not say that there was any chance of rain, but yet here you were here- shivering under the shelter of the roof of the nearest building in your flimsy jacket, t-shirt and jeans. It was pouring and you had classes to get to, so you were going to make a run for it and attempt to not get too wet by ducking under roofs where you could.
During your long break between your classes, you had planed to meet up with your boyfriend under the roof of the library. Thankfully he had been home when you called him earlier and he was going to bring you a better jacket. As you waited for him, you kept your body moving, shifting from foot to foot to try and keep away the cold that was seeping into your limbs and making them prickle as your body fought it with good bumps. You had your hood up to fight against the wind that was tugging at your loose hair and smacking it at your face, so you didn’t see your boyfriend come up next to you. You squealed in shock and surprise when he wrapped you up and pulled you into his warm coat along his body.
“You’re freezing,” he said with a grimace as you shivered against his body and waited for his heat to warm you up.
“You’re telling me!” You respond, snuggling closer and looking up at him. “I’m going to get you wet, do you want me to take off my jacket?”
“Sure,” he releases you from his warming hug to pull your warmer jacket from his bag. “Let’s get you warm.”
You shuck off your soaked light weight jacket, chills running up your body when your skin meets the wind chilled air. But your boyfriend is quick to react and he places the warm jacket on your shoulders. As soon has you have your arms through the sleeves, he tugs you back into his embrace and again wraps his jacket around you as you slide your hands around his waist. He keeps you encased against his body as he walks you backwards so he can lean against the wall of the library. His voice vibrates your face where it’s pressed to his chest when he speaks next.
“How much time do you have left before your next class?” He mumbles into your hair.
“Not nearly enough time.” You sigh. People are passing you two, it’s still pouring and rain is starting to edge toward you as the wind pushes it sideways, but you’re in your own little world. “What about you?” You feel him take his hand out of his pocket at your back as he checks his watch.
“I’ve got ten minutes before I have to leave.” He tugs you closer.
“Can I walk with you?” You don’t want to leave him just yet. You were warm, but you hardly see him most of the time when you’re both out of the apartment. You wanted to spend time with him out in the real world.
“What?” He nuzzles his face against yours, his beard tickling your cheeks and making you giggle. “Am I your walking heater now?”
“Hey!” You smack his chest lightly. “I was nice. You know, a girl can be with her boyfriend without needing something!” He’s got a mischievous look in his eyes.
“So you don’t need this?” He removes his jacket from around you, tugging it snuggly against his body and leaving you exposed to the chill wind.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want it!” You pout, still leaning up against him with your arms crossed. He laughs and hooks an arm around you so he can start to walk towards his next class, opening up an umbrella as he steps into the pouring rain. As you walk, you make a game of stepping over puddles and bumping into him as you try and avoid getting your shoes and socks soaked. He does the same, making sure to follow with the umbrella so you keep at least semi-dry.
“I like it when it rains.” You muse above the tapping of the raindrops against the umbrella. “Just not when it’s raining and windy.” He agrees, grumbling as the wind makes him fight to keep the umbrella straight.
When you reach the building where his class is taking place, he closes the umbrella and hands it to you. He knows that your class is shorter than his, so you are going to need it more.
“Thanks for going out of your way for me.” You say to him as you hug him goodbye. “Sorry for not checking the weather ahead of time.”
“Oh you don’t have to be sorry.” He leans down and plants a short kiss to your lips. “If I get to hold you close every time it rains, then I’ll be the one checking the weather.”
You hated seeing him off to the airport. You knew it was part of his job and he loved it, but it was hard on you both. When you said goodbye to the band, you always dragged it about as long as possible and left him for last. He stood to the side, watching you while you hugged them and made jokes. There was a sad smile on his face because he knew it would be the last time he would see you truly happy for months. He wondered how he was going to keep is own emotions under wrap during tour. He was going to miss you much it would hurt. Your loud laughter brings his attention back to you, pulling him out of this thoughts. The tall blonde of the group had decided to start spinning you around in circles. Stumbling back in your dizzy haze, you land against his hard chest and he stabilizes you but putting his hands on your shoulders.
“You guys go on ahead, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he says nodding his head towards the loading area of the plane that was going to take him away from you. They head off and when it seems like it’s just you and him in the busy jam packed airport, you break. You both drop your bags at your feet and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. He tightens his grip on you before releasing you and leaning down to bring his eyes level to yours, but you don’t want to meet them. You know that this will be all over in what will seem like seconds and then you won’t be able to touch him for months. “Hey, hey ,hey,” he takes your face gently in his hands, “Please look at me.” You give in, meeting his eyes and he smiles. “Hey pretty lady.”
“I don’t want you to go,” you say holding back tears, “But I know you have to.” He nods and then curses as they call for final boarding. He presses a deep and passionate kiss to your lips, pulling away before you can get too involved in it.
“I’ll Skype when I can and call twice as much,” he promises as he picks up his carry on bag. He turns to make his way to the gate, only to stop short and run back to give you one more chased kiss. “I love you.” And then he disappears through the gate.
The first month is torturous. You add two blankets to your bed because you can’t sleep without his body heat next to you. There is too much silence in your house, so you’ve taken to wearing headphones to block out the memories of him singing in the kitchen as he cooked. He texts you a few times, saying tour is fun and busy and he’s worried he can’t get to wifi fast enough. He calls you every other night while they’re sleeping on the tour bus, his voice is soft as he tries not to wake the others.You talk about your day, which is overfilled with work because you don’t want to go home to an empty house, and his day, which is filled with screaming fans and living his dream. He always sounds sad when he has to say goodbye, always ending the phone call with a “I miss you and I love you.”
The second month is a little better. They’ve started staying at hotels, so you finally get to see his face. The first time you Skyped him, you nearly cried. You were laying in your bed with one of his shirts and a pair of boy shorts as your pajamas and he was in the hotel room he shared with his beat-boxing buddy. His head is lacking his seemingly always present beanie and his beard has filled out a little. “Hey sweetheart.” His smile nearly blinds you. “Did it finally connect?” You hear from someone off screen and then you see another head pop into the corner of the screen. “Hey gorgeous, your man has driven me crazy. He’s been a mess.” Your boyfriend playfully pushes his best friend out of the picture and turns his attention to you. “Is that my shirt?” You laugh, slightly embarrassed.
“Yeah,” you say sheepishly, “it smells like you and it helps me sleep now that you’re not here.” You joke about his absence, even though it feels like you’re dying inside, and show him the body pillow that is almost half his size. But it’s okay, because he tells you that he sleeps with an extra pillow too. You talk until it’s quite late on both side of the computers, having moved to lay down still facing so you can see each other as you start to get sleepy. You yawn, asking him to sing you to sleep. He too yawns and then sings you a low soft melody until he sees you start to nod off. “Go to sleep princess, I love you.” he says before he ends the call, a single tear rolling down his cheek unseen.
As the tour goes on, the Skype calls come less frequently, but he always makes an effort to text you when he gets even the smallest amount of free time. It’s easier than Skype and can be done where it’s too loud for a proper phone call. At some point, you finally break your self promise of not looking at the vlogs they put up. The videos are months behind, but it makes you feel better when you see his face and see him cracking stupid jokes with his sense of humor that only you understand sometimes. In one video from near the beginning of tour, where they’re talking about how tour is and all he can do is look at the camera with a devastated look on his face.
“It’s hard this time around,” he says rubbing his beard covered cheeks, “It’s really hard.” Then the video cuts to more of the fun aspects of tour, the awesome bus they got, the many events they were at. You seem him laughing and smiling, most of it is genuine but there parts where you can tell he’s faking it. You watch videos until it’s late, your favorite one being one that his best friend had put together. It was of him and his effort to keep in constant contact with you. There were scenes of him calling you and video chatting you. “Is that her?” the voice behind the camera would ask. He would say yes and then move to a more private space. The last scene was of the night that you both had fallen asleep with on Skype. His friend turned the camera onto himself, “You’ve got to respect a man that loves his woman that much.”
The Europe portion of the tour was probably the worst, you lost contact for a while because both of you agreed that you didn’t want to run up a huge phone bill with overseas phone calls. So instead you sent emails and past photos and videos back and forth. One night you fell asleep in front of your computer while waiting for him to call you on Skype, not knowing you had caused him a slight panic attack on the other side of the ocean. But you did see for a split second in a later vlog, he was getting more agitated, he tried his best to hide it from the cameras, and he looked even more tired than usual. This happened enough that you caved and called him ready to cry, you missed him so much. It wasn’t him that answered his phone, but it was the tenor of the group.
“Yello, Mr. Sexy Bass’ phone.” You laugh and quickly explain that he better get this phone into the hands of your boyfriend ASAP or you’d fly to where they were and kick his ass. “Oo, you need to chill mommy,” he responds “daddy’s not too far away- you’ve gone and given him anxiety, not calling? not Skyping? Oo, girl.” There is a large amount of shuffling on his end of the line and then you hear a familiar deep voice, “Give it, give it” and then finally, finally his clear voice is in your ear. And then you break, saying his name over and over.
“Hey pretty lady,” He says choked up, “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. I’ve been missing you like crazy and the group says that I’m turning into the ‘Debby Downer’ of us all.” You can tell he’s moved himself outside and you both break down, crying together, but with thousands of miles between you. You can only talk to him for half an hour, but it was exactly what you both needed. “Only a few more weeks sweetheart. Then I’m coming home.” Home, the word rings in your ears long after he’s said goodbye. The next time you see him in one of vlogs, he’s as happy as he can be and his twitter is counting down the days until he had you in his arms again. In the later weeks, you get a text with a gate location at the same airport that you last saw him in the flesh and a single line of text.
I’m done missing you, I’m coming home.
You were standing in the same airport that you had seen him off at just five months ago. But that last moment you had shared felt like a life time ago. The bone crushing hug and quick passionate kiss that you had shared were last you had felt of him since he had been on tour. Sure, you had Skyped and texted and talked on the phone, but it wasn’t the same.
You needed his skin against yours. You needed to be able to knot your fingers in his hair and feel his beard prickle your skin as he kissed you. But most of all, you needed his arms around you again in the bone crushing hugs you loved.
A noise from loud speaker jolts you out of your thoughts. His flight has finally landed. You are minutes, possibly seconds away from seeing his beautiful face walk through the gates. You await him anxiously along with all of the other family, friends and taxi drivers. You don’t see him at first and you get up on your tiptoes to try and see past the crowd that files out of the gates. It takes a few tries, but then you spot his ever present beanie amongst the massive amount of people. He’s trailing at the back of his group of five, the others talking amongst themselves and his best friend trying to cheer him up. He missed you too.
As soon as you think he even has the slightest chance of hearing you, you shout out his name as loud as you can- which earns you glares from the people standing beside you, but you don’t care. His head snaps up, desperately looking for the source of your voice. He turns to his best friend and you see him say “did you hear that?” His friend laughs his funny choking chuckle and you see him push your boyfriend forward, saying “go find her, man.”
He shouts out your name, trying to move faster through the crowds. You respond, shouting out his name again and then you lose sight of him as you jump the barrier to try and meet him in the middle. When you finally see him, he is barely feet away and you are about ready to burst into tears. Time seems to slow as your eyes finally lock with his emerald greens and you see him mouth your name.
He reacts before you do, nearly running to where you seem to be rooted to the ground. Then it finally hits you that he’s really here this time and your tears finally spring forth, as you run to meet him. He drops his bag from his shoulder seconds before you both crash together, your shaking arms going around his neck as you bury your face in his neck and his strong arms going behind your back bringing into the crushing hug you have waited months for. And then you just can’t hold it together any longer.
“I-I’ve missed you s-so much”, you choke out as you start to sob and try to cling closer to your missing half.
“I know,” his voice is rough and raspy, “I know.” One of his hands snakes up to cradle the back of your head, pressing you so close that can’t even slip a piece of paper between your two bodies. He presses a long, hard kiss to the side of your head and as you feel a drop hit your ear, you realize he’s crying too.
“Oh, just kiss her already,” you hear from the remaining four that have reached where you stand. He happily obliges, taking your face between his hands and kissing you so hard and deep that you fear that you may have bruises for the next week.
“Now,” he breathes, grinning from ear to ear as he comes up from the kiss, gasping for air, “I’m home.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, then picks up his bag and starts to walk out of the airport, clutching you to his side as if he might die if he looses contact with you.
You wake up and you instantly know something’s wrong. Your head is muggy, your throat feels like you’ve swallowed a million needles and your body feels like you’re on fire. You find the other side of your bed empty as you try to pull yourself to a sitting position. Your boyfriend is probably long gone, today was a studio day for him and the rest of his band. After rubbing your forehead, which you don’t realize is covered sweat, you brace yourself against the end table next to your bed as you attempt to make your way to standing. Your hand slips and you tumble from you bed, knocking over your alarm clock and bringing the sheets along with you.
Oh, you think as you hear him bolt up the stairs, so he is home. He takes the stairs two at a time, having heard you fall from the kitchen where he was making you tea and toast. Calling your name out, he flings open the door to your bedroom to find you moaning in pain, laying under a heap of sheets and blankets that are still half on the bed. He holds in a deep chuckle as he kneels down to detangle your body from the mess you’ve fallen into and when his hands make contact with your skin, his soft touch soothes your burning skin.
One of his hands runs smoothly over your waist and down your legs to land under your knees. The other slips under your chest to scoop you up and cradle you in to his chest. He places you back in the bed, reclaiming the covers from the floor and pulling them up to your chin as you fight them, not wanting them on your sweltering body. “You’re still burning up,” he murmurs his thoughts out loud, running his hand over your forehead and cupping your cheek. You turn your head into his hand, his cool skin feels so good as it offers a small amount of relief.
“I feel like crap,” you mumble out, you eyes fluttering as they try to keep his beautiful green eyes in view. Then you shrink into your cocoon of covers. “But, I don’t want to get you sick,” you have to take a deep coughing breath before you continue, “and aren’t you supposed to be at the studio?” He takes his beanie off and tugs it over your head.
“Yeah,” he says tucking the blankets around your chin, “but you’re more important and I can go in later when you’re sleeping. I woke up this morning to you tossing and turning, you were burning up- you still are.” He kisses your red nose, promising to be right back and he returns a few minutes later with the tea and toast he had started making earlier. It’s your favorite and you smile as he slides into the bed, settling in behind you. He helps you eat in small amounts until your body starts relaxing back into his. Letting you fall asleep on him, he texts then banned saying he could meet them in an hour to record.
When your breathing is even, although it’s shallow due to the congestion, he’s sure you’re asleep and gently removes himself from underneath you, placing a pillow under your head. He leaves a note and your cellphone on the end table just in case you wake up before he gets back, then quietly slips out of the house.
At the studio, the band notices his distance, but don’t say much about it.
“How is she?” His best friend asks as they sit while they wait to record their individual parts. His question is out of genuine concern not only for her health, but his as well. He knows that his best friend would go extreme lengths to see that she gets better, he won’t sleep correctly until she’s better- waking up at the slightest cough.
“She was asleep when I left,” he sighs, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “But she was still burning up. I don’t know what she has or how long it’s going to last.” When it’s time for him to record, he pretends that he’s singing to her. Singing away the pain and sickness. He has to fight the urge to call you during the breaks, telling himself that you need your sleep.
But back at home you’ve woken up, slightly delirious, but able to read his note. He’ll be home in a few hours and you think you can fend for yourself for that long. So far, you’ve managed to fumble your way downstairs to make yourself a new cup of tea and plop yourself on the couch in front of the TV with a box of tissues. This is where he finds you when he comes home.
He gingerly takes off his shoes and sets down his bag and keys. At first glance, the mass on the couch just looks like a bunch of blankets, but he soon sees your head still covered by his beanie and your nose even more red from blowing into tissues. He wakes you with a cool towel, dabbing your neck and face in a desperate attempt to cool your body temperature.
“Hi,” you say with a sleepy grin. The tea has made your throat feel loads better, even if you still have the cough.
“You feeling any better?” He asks, resetting the towel and pressing it to your forehead. Your about to give him a sarcastic ‘I’m better when you’re here’ when a coughing fit stops you. He frowns as you nearly hack up a lung, your body violently shaking. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay pretty lady?” He doesn’t even give you a chance to answer before he scoops you up, blankets and all, to take you back upstairs.
After he lays you down on the bed, making sure you’re fully covered and have the cool towel on your head, he starts to get himself ready for bed. During his routine, he pops his head back into the room with every cough or sigh he hears. Once he sets you into a fit of coughing laughter with the toothpaste clinging to his beard. When he finally settles himself into bed, he pulls you onto him so that you lay on his bare and very hairy chest. His skin feels fantastic where it meets yours, but you still insist that you don’t want to make him sick and he still insists that he doesn’t care.
You wake him only a few times after you both have fallen into a fitful slumber. Each time his eyes snap open when you’re coughing racks both of your bodies, but he’s grateful because each time he wakes, your body temperature had dropped a little from the high place it had been at that morning. The last time he wakes in the middle of the night, you have rolled off him. You fever is now gone and you are sleeping soundly with only a slight bit of congestion remaining. He smiles, then kisses the side of your head before pulling you back into his side. He’ll feel better once your back to full health, but this is good for now.
Your love affair with music began at an early age. You sang in a children’s choir, learned to play the recorder and eventually started to play instruments. As you got older, the list of instruments you played got longer and the arrangements you sang in choir got more complicated. Your connection with music eventually became emotional too.
It was what kept you sane half the time. When your grandpa died, you curled up with your headphones in and sobbed your heart out in your own little world. When you got your first crush, the love songs always felt like they were talking to only you. But upon rejection from said crush, you removed the love songs and replaced them with hardcore rock. You always wished you had someone who felt the way you did about music, how it touched your soul. And then you met him in high school.
Sure, he didn’t know you existed. But he was perfect. He loved music as much as you did. The more you watched him, the more it showed. He disappeared after a while, only to show up in later years as part of a popular band. You were happy for him, music was his life now it was everything you ever wanted, so you were sure he was ecstatic about it.
You got to meet him once, and hoped that he would recognize you. You hadn’t changed that much, had you? But he sure had. His once cubby cheeks now covered by a carefully groomed beard, his hair now grown long and ever covered by a beanie. And man, his voice had gotten even deeper as he had grown from a small town choir boy to international pop star. But watching him with fans you realize, his smile was still contagious and he still touched your soul when he sang.
It was finally your turn to meet the band, you were so nervous. He smiled, you smiled and blushed facing the ground. You told the band that they were fantastic and you had no words to explain how it made you feel. Then you turned to him and told him it was always cool to see someone like him make it out of your rut of a small town. His eyes lit up. Did he recognize you? It didn’t seem like, as you took your photo and left.
Waiting outside of the meet and greet area, you shook your head. Well, what had you expected really? You were just a small town girl and your passion for music hadn’t lead to anything but an iPod full of anything and everything. You stuck your headphones in, retreating into your sanctuary of melodies and harmonies. As you turned to leave, you thought you might have heard someone call out to you, but dismissed it, it was probably just residual noises that were leaking in from the outside world. But before you could take a step, someone grabbed your shoulder to turn you around. You yelped, tearing out your headphones as you turned around.
“I should have known,” a deep voice said, “I never saw you without those.” It was him, so he had remembered you.
“How- You- What,” your speech came out broken and frazzled. He chuckled, a deep sound that you could feel in your chest, and looked at you with those still extremely gorgeous emerald green eyes.
“You have no idea,” he breathed, “how long I have waited to talk to you.” You furrowed your brow in confusion. “I had the biggest crush on you in high school,” he continued, “but you were always in your own little world of music.”
Wait, what? “You did?” You squeaked out, your chest and heart feeling like they were simultaneously being crushed and yet having such a heavy weight lifted off of them.
“Yes,” he whispered, his hands going to cup your cheeks. “Your music was what touched my heart and soul.” He touched his forehead to yours and closed his eyes. “Please tell me I don’t have wait any longer.”
His name leaves your lips in what is barely more than a breath and you meld your lips with his. His eyes fly open, only to flutter back closed as he buries one hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and the other slides down to your waist to press you impossibly close to his body, to try to make up for lost time. From then on, your two melodies become one harmony.
The next time you find yourself in tears, you no longer seek solitude among your favorite artists, but you seek to be held tightly within his arms as he hums softly. And when you sing happily, he joins in with a matching tune. He is the embodiment of your musical passion and you are his. You have found your music man.