Words

Our love story started in November... or August, if you take it from when I started work. With cheeky glances in the summer months, and clandestine kisses as the days got colder. A chemistry never acted upon to its fullest extent, but one that was undoubtedly there. With hugs that turned a bad day into a good one, and lifts downstairs when I couldn’t walk. Tenderness was there, from both of us, but moments outside the office were rare.

And then lockdown hit. First, the building closed, and we escaped to our special spot for a stolen moment. Then Monday came… we were two of the precious few who were in the building when the nationwide announcement came, and it became clear that you were going to be going home. Home - to be with your family. Home - over 2 hours away. You came and you found me and we hugged it out, knowing that we shouldn’t, but not knowing when we would see each other again. That would have been my chance to lockdown my emotions. I was using the hug to say goodbye, to tell you how much I cared, but that I was going to try and move on after months of playing with my emotions.
But then you sent me that message…

… I was special to you.

Reading that, at a moment when I was listless, meant the world. We spent our lockdown sharing our love for each other across 156 miles. We video called, we messaged immediately as soon as we’d hung up, we explored what we liked. You wrote me the most tender words, trusted me with them, and soon they’ll be out there for the world to see. Our tale well told. So I let myself fall. We’ve been our own virtual bubble, through the rough times when family were ill, when lockdown got oppressive, when I lost my job. We were there through it all, we had each other’s backs, you were – are – my rock. Then you were told you could come back down, and suddenly it was only 10 miles between us. We met up and it was like 4 months apart had been only 4 minutes. The sea salt was in the breeze, and we were breathing deeply.

But that’s when things started to change. I’m an anxious lover, so when the tones of our messages changed, when hour gaps turned into days, I started to worry. I knew how you’d played in the past, but I also knew how to trust my gut in knowing that there were more things at play here than being a plaything. I chose to reach out, I told you how my brain was playing games with me. And you were honest. You told me you missed me too, but that you were scared of hurting me, of ruining our friendship because what we have is so special. And we agreed to continue with what we have. And believe me, I absolutely want you in my life, no matter what.

But this thing we are in, I don’t know how to live it. We’re still flirting, we’re still connected, we’re still sending each other hugs and kisses through the airwaves. I know that we still feel for each other deeply, and yes, I do feel there’s still the romance there. I can normally get over crushes with ease. But not this one. Not this time. This one runs deeper. 

It took us long enough to get to this point, D. I can’t, don’t, believe that that is it for us. I know that no words that I have could ever match the beauty of yours, but I know how I feel. So, I’m writing it all out: I saw the roads set out in front of me, and I chose the road that led to you. To home. I saw what it could bring, and I chose it. I chose – choose – all of it. I choose you. So here are these words, that I don’t know if I’ll ever let you see. Words I don’t know will ever be spoken by anyone other than the voice in my head. But, if our futures aren’t together, but you hear these words, think of me. And know that I love you. And will stay for as long as you need me, and beyond. Because this feels like fate.