You swear you can hear his heart beating.
A thousand miles away, and you swear to God that you hear it.
It echoes in your ears, thrumming with life. It reverberates in your head, taking you back into the world of memories and touch.
You swear you can hear it.
-
You swear you can feel his curls brushing against your chin.
They are soft, you think, for the gel is gone, rubbed away by your fingers and lips.
They tickle your skin, and they bring you back to the memories of days in the darkness of your bedroom, back in the days when he willingly stayed in the quiet secrecy it provided.
You swear that you can feel them.
-
You swear you can see the glinting of his purity ring in the light.
It shines, you state to your scared sister. She stares like you are insane. Meanwhile, it reflects the light of the candle on your bedside table.
You remember the days when that little ring of metal would brush against your hot skin tantalizingly, reminding you of everything you couldn't have.
You swear it's glinting at you from right in front of your eyes.
-
You swear you can smell his cologne from the neck resting on your pillow.
The musk stings your nose deliciously. You can almost feel the stickiness of it sliding off with his sweat.
You smile absentmindedly in his direction as it flows through your head.
You swear you can smell his cologne.
-
You swear he is lying next to you at this very moment, sleeping soundly on the feather pillow.
You swear his arm is draped comfortably across your stomach as his face snuggles into the soft pillow, his fingers twitching and eyelids fluttering in dreams.
You feel its weight resting gently against you, and smile to yourself; he is here.
You swear he is here.
-
You know you love him.
You know he feels the same
way.
(There's no doubt in your mind…only in everyone else's).
You know all of those songs were
written about you.
(Not her.)
You know you will always find your
way back to one another.
(It's a given. How could you not?)
-
Miley… Your older sister's voice pierces the quiet consolation that he and you share. You carefully stroke his curls, shift his arm, and turn to look at her.
Yeah, Brandi? You ask.
Miley… She is cautious. What are you doing?
You wrinkle your eyebrows; you can feel the creases that form in your forehead.
What do you mean? Your voice is confused. You look adoringly down at his curls, now nudging your side. You reach your hand down and thread your fingers through them firmly, comforting him in dreams.
Miley, who are you looking at? She sounds scared. You look away from his perfection, into the terrified face of your older sister. You feel your brows furrow.
Don't be stupid, Brand, he's right here.Her eyes widen fearfully. She reaches forward and grabs your arm.
Who is there?
Nick of cou-
You stop. You blink your eyes.
He's gone.
The bed is empty beside you.
There is no warm, soft teenage boy lying next to you, breathing softly onto your tingling skin.
There is no heartbeat.
There are no curls.
There is no cold metal, no cologne.
There is no warmth.
He is gone.
Brandi! You look frantically at your sister. Where is he? Where did he go?
She pulls you to her chest and calls for your mother.
--
You swear you can hear his heart beating.