It is a warm summer night, and the rain pours down on me as I stand outside looking up at his house. Even over the intense thunder I can hear my own heart beating as if it were screaming at me, telling me to turn around and go home. I mentally tell it to be silent as I start up the steps to his front door. The last time I saw him he was ripping my heart out of my chest. My fingertips gently slide along the wet cast iron railing on my left. I keep an eye on the windows to the right of the door to make sure he wasn't looking out. I get to the first door, confidently turn the doorknob and walk in. That was the easy part. I now stand in front of two brown doors. My head is buzzing, and somehow the one reason I can think of to knock on that door overrides the million that I can think of to run away while I am still strong enough to. I take another deep breath, raise my hand, and knock on the door to my right. It swings open; he must have left it open for me. I ignore one more split second thought of running away and I walk in, trying to be as casual as possible, this is not easy. I am met by a brick wall of emotions and memories as I step inside. Everything is so familiar; the smell of fresh clothes, the couches, the little messy clutters everywhere, oatmeal bowls left from when he got home from work still sitting on the coffee table, empty water bottles.
He is lying in his usual position on the couch, facing the TV, but for some reason I don't sit in my usual spot. I chose to sit by his feet; he instinctively lifts his legs and puts them back down on my lap as I sit. They are heavy, but the weight of them is comforting. I place my hands on his legs; one on his shin and the other on his thigh, my favorite place to touch. Well, almost. We haven't yet spoken. We sit there in silence, and even though I am staring at the TV I have no idea what I am watching. I just keep thinking about how good it feels to be back here. I feel like I am home again.
"Hey, you!" I hear him say and it scares me out of my own little world. I look at him with a huge smile on my face, I just cant help it, I know that there is nowhere in the world that I would rather be at this moment. He smiles and I am not really sure if it is because he knows I still love him, or if it is because he is glad I am here. I tear my eyes away from his, because I just cannot stand to look at him without wearing my heart on my sleeve and I know that this just isn't the time for that. The minutes pass and we both try to act as normal as possible, as if the past few months spent without each other hadn't actually happened.
