Written 04/25/2017

Vic.

It is at odd times like right now when I think of Kellin Quinn.

Now, that snow is falling down in swift motions above me, now that everything around me is turning white. Now, in the middle of the night, when it gets colder and I have to wear layers upon layers of clothing to keep my body warm. (He knows I hate that) (Knew) (However you want to put it). Now, that my only company is the silence.

It makes me think of when we met. How we met, exactly.

It had been snowing that night, way more than right now, and I was pissed off because of something that went down where I used to work at the time. I thought the walk would do me good, clear my head, cool me down. I certainly did not think I would end up chasing a dog through almost two miles with heavy snow falling down on me, but somehow I ended up doing just that.

I had just crossed the street, turning around to go back home, when I saw this dog running in the opposite direction towards me, with its leash hanging from its back, its tongue out, clearly having a blast, it passed me by and I looked at it run, but then I turned my head back and saw this guy running towards me too, after it, yelling into the air for the animal to stop. Up until now I don't know what came over me, but I took off running after the dog. Long story short, I saved the dog the guy was walking (because he used to walk dogs for his neighbors sometimes, "It's not a job, it's a hobby," he always used to say) and I gained more than one of his brightest smiles and tightest hugs that night. He called me his hero and I agreed to disagree.

I adjust the beanie on top of my head and sigh, taking out a stray cigarette I find inside my pocket and place it in my mouth. That was five years ago. It's funny how I still remember it so clearly, like it was yesterday. I guess there are things that, as much as you try, you'll just never forget. His desperate cries of encouragement for me to catch the dog, how he was basically crying when I carried it back to him, and how he smiled at me after that. When he smiled, I knew I had made the greatest decision of my life when I decided to help him and get the dog. Well, I don't even know if I even decided, I just did it without thinking. I still don't regret it, though. I don't think I could ever.

After that night he was everywhere. Everywhere I went, there he was. The supermarket, the movies, the park, the mall. Everywhere. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd walked by my office one day, delivering something or starting his first day. And even when I didn't see him physically, he was always on my mind. I don't think I even knew his name by then but the boy had made his way into everything in me. And maybe he had always been there and I was just starting to notice, but I doubt it because who could pass a face like that and not look twice? I was so intrigued by this casual dog walker and all I wanted to do was talk to him for at least five seconds, but it was as if every time I saw him, he never saw me. And I didn't have the guts to approach him first. I was a dumb guy with an even dumber little crush.

I chuckle and shake my head, lighting the cigarette and taking a quick drag. He cracked up when I told him that one night we were laying in bed, just a few months into our relationship. He thought the only time he saw me again after the snowy night with the dog was on the day he finally approached me first. To him it was only to say hi, but to me that had been the day that started it all. We became friends.

I close my eyes and inhale again, blowing out a puff of smoke. I see it mix with the cold air and vanish. He hated it when I smoked. That's why I always did it at night, when he was asleep, outside in the backyard. Just like I am right now, only there's no one inside that I am hiding my habits from. I know he knew I did it, but he never mentioned it and I was glad he never did. I know it's a gross habit, but I just can't quit it. It's obvious I still can't. Someday maybe, but not today. That's what I would always tell him, whenever he asked. He would roll his eyes at me but I always made the pout go with a kiss. And I sigh at the memory of all our kisses.

Kissing Kellin was always surreal. Since the first time, when I stole him a kiss in the back of that Italian restaurant he loved so much, and he kissed me back right when I thought I had messed everything up, he wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders and I knew then that everything would be okay. That night everything changed again, he became my boyfriend.

He had a way of turning me into mush every time his lips were on mine, I was potty in his hands every time he so much as touched me, and he loved that. He held so much power over me, but I didn't mind because I was always the one in control. We worked well like that.

Then there were the days where I felt like shit. Which were most days with the shitty job I used to have. But he was always there to make me feel better. And I honestly have no idea how he put up with that all the time, how he put up with me and my mood swings. Either way he did. He always made me see the bright side of things. He became my sunshine, whenever it started to rain. Or snow.

I can't believe I let that go.

I shiver a little from the cold and wrap my coat tighter around me. He gave me this coat, actually. It was his at first but since we moved in together I always put it on by accident, so he told to keep it. I can't believe I still have it, wear it even. I barely have stuff from when we lived together, maybe some plates and pillows, but nothing more. Maybe I put it on unconsciously. Some habits die hard, I guess.

We never had much anyway. When we moved into our first apartment it was spring, his favorite time of the year. He loved to see the flowers bloom and the blue skies every morning. I loved to see him looking at all those with sparks in his eyes. And he filled the apartment with all kinds of plants and roses and flowers all the time. I always forgot to water them, but was always forgiven later. We had the basic stuff, some given by our parents and some bought with our savings. We weren't loaded but we were happy. We had each other, and that was more than enough. We were excited for a much brighter future that never really came.

I see the light post on sidewalk flicker and look away.

I wonder if he's alright, I surely hope so, wherever he is. I think it's been at least a year since it happened. The "last straw" as I decided to call it in the heat of the moment. We've all said things we regret in our lives, that's for sure, but I don't think they compare to the things I said that night. We were both tired, that was obvious, but all those words thrown at each other like knives cut way deeper than we both thought they would. He hurt me, I hurt him twice as bad.

And I guess I had seen it coming, really. It had been rough for weeks then, he had just gotten fired from his job and had no luck into finding a new one and I was a complete mess in mine. I couldn't stand that office anymore and the income I was making was not enough for the both us. I wanted to quit so badly but I didn't, for him. We were both time bombs set into motion, waiting patiently for the time to explode. Indeed we did. That night he packed his bags and with tears in my eyes I saw him go. I let him. And I haven't seen him since.

I blow out the last puff of smoke into the cold air and flick the cigarette off in the snow.

I moved out of the apartment no long after. What was the point if I was alone? I came back to my hometown and found a much better job with much better payment and moved into this apartment complex behind me. My brother talked me up into dating again a while after it happened, but I wasn't ready. I don't think I am still. It's just hard to get over someone like him. No one really catches my eye. He, however, he probably found someone else already. Who wouldn't want him, really, if he looked like that. He's perfect. Iw I'll never stop believing that. I always try to find those eyes everywhere I go but it's impossible, he was the only one.

Thinking about it we could've tried harder. Making it work, that is. He could've come back home with me, we would've been happy here. Or I could've gone somewhere else with him, wherever he wanted, somewhere where it was always spring or something, and we would've been happy too.

I shake my head and turn around, stuffing my hands deep into my pockets. That's just wishful thinking I'd rather not ponder on, for my own sanity.

I make my way inside the complex and walk up the stairs. My floor is the third one and the apartment is a pretty spacey one bedroom that I got a good deal on about a week after I arrived home again. Sometimes it's still weird coming home to an empty house, but I'd like to think I'm getting a bit more used to it now. I get to my door and open it, walking inside I don't even bother to turn the light on and make my way to the couch. I plop down on it and close my eyes.

I just hope that wherever he is, whether he is reading a book on the sofa of his new living room, sitting down with his legs stretched out in the coffee table and a single lamp on, or sleeping soundly on his warm bed with some other man's arms wrapped around his body, or dancing at some club to some of the top hit songs he considers shitty but catchy, or standing in the snow like I was just minutes ago, wherever he is, whoever he is there with, I just hope he is thinking of me too.

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(A/n): What a mess am I right????? Did I have a chance of being a cool author back in the day? Please don't answer that, I'm just joking lmao

But let me know what you think of this one! I certainly have a thing with making these two hurt over each other, I'm sorry.

See you in the next one🖤

- g