It's one of those things that makes you feel strange on the inside and out. A feeling that god forbid I could ever name, and I don't think anyone has done a good enough job so far. To feel...to care more about someone else than you do yourself. To deny instinct and protect them beyond reason. Beyond physicality.
He never smiles. Not at me - not when when we stand in our silences or walk together.
But oh, the world is such a different place when we're together. Like I could live forever and never find anybody who quite does the same thing. Like I would do anything, no matter how much it hurt. He's the only one who could hurt me.
I know one day he will.
But for now we have our silences and our coffee, our nightly talks and our insistent touching. That need to be together, something I'd never have dreamed of.
I hear him dream in the night. Calling out other names, frowning and screaming and crying. We've never told him about his past. I should have, I know, but...the truth sometimes hurts. I want to protect him. I think sometimes I maybe make him uncomfortable, spouting random nonsense because he's the only person I can tell these things, like how the sky is much bluer today or can darkness get thicker, or will we still be we when the hearts are found?
He doesn't ever know. He calls me idiot, calls me stupid, kisses me softly and goes to sleep.
And god, we're far from perfect, but I pray everyday that we never change.