The night time was the nicest. Sleeping in a bed not alone, but together. I don't usually do this kind of stuff. Allow another person so close. Sleep is gentle and I woke up every few hours to make sure he was still there. He snores. Softly but enough to know he's comfortable, confident in his side of the bed, asleep with me. Around four I found his hand and I realised this man means a lot more to me than I really thought he ever could. It wouldn't feel right not feeling his calloused fingertips playing with mine. For the longest time I wasn't sure we'd fit. Too awkward, too easy, too overanalysed to make sense. He fits. Every time I'm not with him it feels like something is missing. We adventure and go places, see beautiful sights, but even those gentle moments at four in the morning, count. They matter just as much. He makes me laugh. I love that he makes me laugh. We can be intimate and entwined and lost but still laugh, chuckle, giggle for hours.
Last night I knew I was falling and I really hope he's fallen too.