*as though to himself* Sometimes, when we were lying in bed together, I'd imagine how I'd turn over and hold you, and kiss you, and you'd kiss me back, and before we knew it we'd be lovers ... and I wanted to so much, but I could never tell myself to do it. Or when you were baking, I'd think how easy it would be just to sneak up behind you and hold you, and kiss you, and ... but I never could. It was better, living with you, because it wasn't special to sleep with you, or to cook with you, and I didn't feel like I had to or I'd never have a chance again ... but I still wanted to. I love you so much ...
no subject