I love the way this one was written, I don't know why. I love writing in second person for some odd reason. Another older fic written to a prompt. The prompt for this chapter is 'Tickle'
I think that's all I have to say
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There are days when you miss sitting up almost all night waiting for him to get home just so you can yell at him for being late.
You miss those eyes he would give you as he pleaded for forgiveness.
You miss the way his stubble would tickle your skin as he kissed every inch of your body.
There are nights when you miss his arms wrapped so tightly around you, you nearly stopped breathing.
You miss the way his lips would twitch in his sleep, as if he was trying not to smile.
You miss him waking up and catching you staring, and his completely lame explanation of he was dreaming of you.
There are times when you're coming up the stairs and you remember following him. He had been so excited to show you this new apartment that was just for the two of you.
Sometimes you can smell the smoke of his old habit that he tried so hard to kick just for you.
Other times you can taste the alcohol after his nights out and he needed so desperately to kiss and touch you.
You will always remember the good times and you often forget the bad.
And when you lay alone at night, in the bed that you shared with him for so long, you will cry.
Because you miss him so terribly.
You can't remember why he left, only that you made him.
You barely remember his voice, that special voice used only with you.
You know he switched to nights so that it would be easier on you, so your heart wouldn't break again each day at work.
Even after you made him leave, after all your tantrums and immature comments, he thought of you. Always you and your feelings.
And you threw it all away for reasons that seem long past relevant.
Despite that you have to work in a few hours, despite the fact you know dawn is coming, you lay away and pine. If only you could feel him tickle your skin once again…