you know, i relished every aspect of being with you-- the unending jokes and teasing, arm wrestling matches, dinner while binge-watching our favourite show, cuddles, and the fact that i could stare at you all i wanted without it being weird. i loved our date nights, how sometimes you would surprise me, sometimes i, and how different we were from other couples our age.
sunday morning was the only one in the entire week when we would wake up together, side-by-side, a tangled mass of limbs. the sun would radiate perfectly on your tousled hair, which were actually black in colour but looked a beautiful shade of brown in that moment. as you would squint under the sudden brightness, you would kiss my nose, i would feel this convert into a ritual that both of us would follow for the rest of our lives. your eyes, twinkling orbs of golden-brown would look down on me, and i would rub my fingers over the dust of freckles on your cheeks. when we were done with this, we would get out of bed and make breakfast together, french toast and orange juice, and have it while discussing our respective weeks, unburdened because we had to be nowhere but where we were. after that, the rest of the day always passed away too soon. it would be just us, together, doing nothing but enjoying each other's company. we would then go to bed, you holding me, or at times me holding you, and i would wake up on monday morning with a content smile on my face.
we don't do this anymore. seeing you being happy without me is hard, but i understand. and in my despondence, i wish you were gay.