Unforgotten Memories

He was sitting in silence on the edge of his unmade bed. His hair was messy - just like always when he's been sleeping. But that's the thing, though; he hasn't slept at all. His reddened eyes saw to it that anyone would know about his sleepless night, they would know as soon as they glanced to him.

Nick stared off into naught. His breathing was the only thing that interrupted the lonesome, deafening silence that lingered in his room. His feet hovered over the cold floor and his scrawny fingers clutched slightly at the thin fabric of the sheets and a sigh left him as he remembered.

It's like they say; he remembers it like it was the day before. He could hear the laughter if he just concentrated. He saw the bright smile whenever he closed his eyes. Could almost feel himself receive a small peck over his lips. He remembers the joy that he felt. Remembers the sorrow that emerged within him when that feeling of utter happiness suddenly vanished. And then, he was left alone.

Everything reminded him of that man. The bed that he sat on gave him flashbacks of all the moments that they shared. Flashbacks of them falling asleep in each others arms. Waking up to see each other smile. The passion between heated bodies. Strong arms that embraced him and held him safe. Kisses. Kisses that would set his whole being on fire.

The livingroom reminded him of their shared laughter when they sat on the couch, wrapped up in thick blankets. They played games. Watched movies. Or simply just laid there. Talking about everything and nothing, about whatever came to mind.

His kitchen reminded him of the huge amount of tea that they drank together. An almost unnoticed little smile crept up upon his dry lips when he thought of the time when they actually shared a cup, just because they couldn't be bothered to make two. It was so stupid, but he held that moment close to his heart none the less.

Even the very color red reminded him of that man. The color of his hair. It was the first thing he noticed when he met him; how ridiculously red his hair was. And what he wouldn’t give to see it again, to be able to run his fingers through those thick strands, to bury his nose in it and breathe in the smell of him.

But it’s all a memory now. One that he’ll never forget.

Nicholas Nietzche Schmidt © me
Sylvester Joseph Nardiello Cesari + art © @KinkyPokemon

Riktigt fin :) Gillar den skarpt!