I was staring into space off the roof of our building, thinking of what it would feel like when he came home.
Hell, I didn't know if he was still alive. Despite his words, "I'll call," he never did, not once. Sure, he hated the phone, but you'd think if your best friend was on the other side of the country, you'd at least ring 'em up once! But no.
Huh, I should bring my camera up here sometime. Funny I never thought of it before. It'd be cool to get a different angle on the city…
No, I'm doing it again, trying to hide behind work instead of thinking about things that hurt. It was one of the last things he said to me, and I'm not going to do it anymore, not now that I've finished my film, and I don't even know if he's coming home because he never called.
It's nearly Christmas. It's cold, and there's a thin sheet of white over everything, dirtier in some places than others, because it snowed yesterday. Just a light, drifting snow, just like on Christmas Eve last year. My breath shows in the air before me, drifting off the edge of the building and away.
I feel alone up here, but not in a bad way. This is where we come to think, to get away for a while. A shout of, "I'm going up to the roof," was not uncommon in the past year. Of course, there was a time when he couldn't be allowed to go up, for fear he'd jump.
Another thought of him.
Maybe I am a bit lonely. I hope he's back by Christmas.
"Thought I'd find you up here," I hear from behind me. I start.
No, it can't be. I'm still dreaming, right?
But I turn, and there he is, his arms outstretched, and I run to him, hugging him as hard as I can, feeling tears well in my eyes as he does the same, and all of a sudden I'm laughing and crying at the same time, because he's back and I'm not alone anymore.
He just stands there and hugs me, rubbing my back, until I loosen my grip on him. I cough a bit, then look up at his face, a wet smile on mine.
"You never called, you asshole."
"I missed you, too," he said softly, smiling.