I waited at the door for him. I waited and waited. I waited like a dog waiting for his owner. I stood there at the door, staring.

I don't know what I was expecting. For him to slash open the door with forgiving arms to tell me he loves me. For him to hug me and whisper to me that it's alright. For him to touch me, ever so softly as he does. To feel that tingling sensation of his cold, yet warm, touch.

That note I left for him probably wasn't enough to show my love. It most likely was a joke to him, to make him think that it's a game to me. A cruel sick game to see him suffer. It isn't, though. It most certainly isn't. Maybe he didn't think that, maybe he's coming, running even, right now to my house.

Or maybe he's standing on the other side of that door. Waiting. Waiting like me. Thinking. Thinking like me.

I would give anything to see his irises in which are full of life and sunshine. A shine that I shouldn't have darkened.
I would give anything to go back and not say the things that I said, to have him not say the things he said.
I would give anything to feel him.
To feel his touch. His warm embrace.

I remember the first time he pulled me in for a hug. My head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. I couldn't help but shake and hold tight. I held on so tight like he was going to fly off in the sky one day, never to return. It's silly now and quite embarrassing. I remember him giggling at my grip. I laughed too.

I leaned from heal to toe on the squeaky wooden floor. Each movement a squeak that sounded like a clock. My pointed shoes occasionally got caught on the long dress pants. Dress clothes are never in my size. Either too long and never fit in the waist or too short and fit in the waist. I was having a hard time breathing as I move from the tight dress pants.

My hands began to sweat, not because I was nervous anymore, but because I was standing there for a long time now.

I didn't know what I was expecting. Not at all. All I know is, I stayed there until midnight, hoping he'd at least knock. He didn't have to enter. I just wanted to know that he was there. The flowers I had earlier, laid on the end table by the door now, began to stare back at me. They already looked like they were about to tear.

So delicate and fragile, ready to fall apart. But if you nurse them with gentle care, they last longer. They stay alive. They breathe.

If I took care of the flowers I was given, maybe I wouldn't be standing here, regretting every second, and waiting for a boy that possibly hates me to show up at my door and accept my apology.

Why'd I think it'd be that easy? I should just apologize front and center, face to face, eyes to eyes. But the thing is, I've done that before, it didn't work. But did I mean it then, is the real question - did I mean it?

I believe now that he has every right to decline my request for forgiveness. It still hurts though. He knows I've forgiven him. He definitely knows. I know I must be patient. People have different perspectives on how long it must take. Sometimes I wish we were all the same for the particular reason, along with figuring out emotions.

He's probably with someone new now. He's probably happy with them. They're probably treating him better. No. Never. No one can love him like I do.

Yet, here I am. Standing, waiting, and not even trying.

I fell in love with this unique boy. This boy who lifted everything off my shoulders. This boy who showed me what love was and what it felt like- or better yet, what it feels like. He's showing me pain. And I thank him for it. I fell for this boy that won't show up at my door to forgive me and I don't blame him.

I glance at the hands of the clock on the wall, ticking slowly. I stare back at the flowers, a petal starting to come off of it now. My eyes then venture over to a scarf. His scarf. I remember that January.

It was January 20, 2015. It was when we first met. I was late to my class that day. I was new to the college and had no idea where to go. The campus reminded my of a baseball stadium, too many circle paths, but these never seem to connect. It was snowing hard. A blizzard on its way, and there I stood in the middle of it, lost. It was cold, oh was it cold.

At the point where I lost all hope, I felt a warm cloth wrap around my nose and neck. I turn around in a panic to see a boy a few inches taller than me smiling. His nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, but his smile and eyes were so warm. He took my hand and led me to my room, in which, fate has it, was our room. He was my dorm buddy. I'd never been more thankful.

Ever since then.. I've worn that scarf, every winter. I then stare out the window. It's dark out and snowing heavily. The once frost bit grass now covered in a light blanket of snow.

My legs began to sore, but I didn't care. I still stood and waited. I don't remember what I am waiting for anymore or why I am. No, that's a lie. Of course I know.

I stare at the ticking clock once more. It was one a.m..

I sighed and took off my pointed dress shoes and vest. I picked up the flowers, three petals floating to the ground, and place them near the trash can. I take off my socks. My bare feet feel the sudden cold wood floor. I shuffle over to my couch. As I'm about to collapse on my brown couch, there is a rapid and loud knock at the door. It was very short.

I stop in my tracks and wait, listening if it'll happen again and it's not my mind playing tricks on me from my lack of sleep. My ears do not deceive me, though, as another quick and short knock strikes the door. I rush over to the door and grab the handle.

I swing it open and there I see.. the boy of my dreams. His eyes glassy and nose as red as the roses I had bought. His cheeks a lighter tint than his nose. He is dressed sloppily and looks winded.

He walks in from the cold and looks at me. His red nose and cheeks not from the cold, but from the small tears that left his eyes. His cold hand touches mine. Oh how I miss it, the warm touch of him.

But one thing I didn't think I'd miss the most, was his smile that he gave to me right there.

I hugged him and held him tight, just like the first time. Except he was shaking, not me, he was holding on tighter. How I've missed it. How I've missed him. How I've missed us.

A miracle that probably shouldn't have come true, did. But I am so grateful, oh so grateful to have him back.

I love him, and that's one thing I'm so certain of.

~~~

This isn't any particular ship really, it can be any ship you want it to be. I just decided to write this because I tend to do that. I get inspired and write what I feel like. If you like this kind of stuff let me know and maybe I'll do more!
<3

~ Danirious