TG ily and i want to shout it from a mountain top but i don’t have a mountain top i have a thirst blog so here it is;
You’re stuffed. That’s nothing new. Almost every evening Ezra is over for dinner. If you’re not cooking he’s taking you out to some restaurant he’s just discovered. Tonight was Chinese at the sketchiest hole in the wall place you’ve ever been to. You would have refused anyone else but your boyfriend was insistent. He’d begged you just to try the rangoons and if you still were skeptical he’d take you straight to PF Chang’s. There was no need for that. The food was amazing.
You lean on Ezra for warmth as you leave. It’s a week until Christmas and the sidewalk is covered in a light dusting of snow. You wear Ezra’s Burberry scarf everywhere now. Today you were even wearing one of his bulky sweaters over your dress. It’s really getting too cold to walk everywhere.
“What do you want to do tonight?”
“Decorate. My parents shipped me all the Christmas ornaments they’d collected for me. Plus I’ve been buying lights and stuff all year. Wanna help?”
“You could still help me hang dangly lights around the living room.”
“Or we could do something else.”
You’re not flying home for the holiday. It’s stupid but some decorations would really make you feel less alone in this huge city. There’s no point arguing with Ezra though, It’s a bit much to expect your Jewish boyfriend to help you set up a nativity on your entertainment center.
“Can we grab a cab?” Even with Ezra’s body heat your teeth chatter.
“But then I don’t get to walk with you through the pretty winter streets!”
Pretty is a big word for brown snow and slush. You want to be warm.
“Fine. Can we at least go back to your apartment? I’ll turn into Mr. Freeze if we go all the way back to mine.”
Ezra’s apartment is closer than yours but he never wants to spend time there. Even on nights he’s “working” late he finds his way back to your bed. You’ve only been inside his building twice. The first time he had asked you to wait in the hallway for him to grab some clothes, claiming embarrassment for his messy living quarters. The other time he let you in but had begged you to stay in his sterile living room. You didn’t even feel comfortable browsing his record collection or bookshelves. You were only there for a short time. After five minutes behind a door Ezra appeared with a full backpack and whisked you back to your place.
“It’s a mess. I would feel bad having you over.”
“Worse than if I got frost bite and lost both legs?”
“Alright we can get a cab.”
“You’d rather pay for a cab than take me to your place”
“Are you serious right now?”
You stop in the middle of the sidewalk. You still want a ride but you are growing tired of his secrets. When your together it’s easy to see how much he cares about you. He’s honest about almost everything. But the other night you asked him about his best memory and he shut down. You still don’t understand what he does for a living. How can you spend so much time with him and still be in the dark? It’s like dating a mobster. Actually sometimes you’re worried you are dating a mobster.
“What? You said you were cold and I don’t want you to get sick. Let’s just go home and have fun warming each other up.”
“Home? It’s not your home. Your home is five blocks away and you refuse to let me in it. Just like how you refuse to tell me anything about your job, or let me spend more than five minutes with your friends.”
“Woah!” He backs away from you. Neither of you realize that this word – home – would be such a trigger for you. You’d let Ezra into your home, into your heart, and shared all of yourself with him. He’s full of sweet gestures and soft kisses but he isn’t doing the same. His home is locked up. The floodgates have opened and you can’t stop yourself from shouting.
“You keep going on and on about how dull your work is. I’m a secretary. You listen to me complain about answering phones all the time. That’s dull! Do you not trust me? Is that why you won’t tell me? Fine. Don’t say anything. I’m going home.”
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. You want him to share these large parts of his life. You don’t think it’s invasive to know what color his kitchen is, or to have his work address saved in your phone. You give him more than enough time to speak up but he stays silent. You know he’s deep in thought but this shouldn’t be something he has to think about.
“I’m going home. I think you should do the same.”
You know him well enough to know that his pride won’t let him follow you. Walking briskly you stop at the next corner to flag down a taxi. You can’t resist taking one look back to see Ezra’s hopefully remorseful face. No such luck. Some random girl is inches from him, bouncing on the falls of her feet and shoving a notebook and pen at him.
He has to be giving her directions. There’s no other reason for him to be talking with this perfect stranger when he couldn’t find anything to say to you moments ago. Thankfully a shiny yellow taxi pulls up just when you’re about to shout for his attention.
You go through the motions at home. There’s a tiny plastic Charlie Brown style tree that you set up on your coffee table. You try to throw a few of your favorite ornaments on it but the cheap branches can’t hold their weight.
You fall asleep next to a box of garland and tinsel but your dreams are anything but restful. You can’t shake the idea of Ezra and the stranger in the street. Your mind races with images of him chasing after her, returning her notebook and pushing her against a brick wall for a passionate kiss while you stand silently screaming feet away.
Today is the six month anniversary of your death. Six months since cancer took you away from me. I miss you so much. I’m still so fucking in love with you. Baby it hurts. It hurts so fucking much.
People keep telling me it will get better and that I will move on. I don’t want to. I’m not ready to stop loving you. I’m not ready to get out of bed knowing you’re not there beside me. I can’t watch our favorite movie without crying or breaking down every time I see something that makes me think of you. I can’t let you go. I won’t let you go. I will continue to visit your grave, leaving you letters filled with precious moments of our life together. I don’t want you to forget them. I don’t want to forget them.
I love you,
O DAMN OKAY in now particular order
- pizza boy
- LYN (i think I mean I recall but I blacklisted myself from reading it again because of the emotional stress so it has to be great)
- MDB (i have a thing for older guys)
- TFA !!!!!!!
…. i also really like bdn but I wrote it so i don’t think i can list it but i had so much fun writing it
OMG EXCUSE ME WHERE HAVE U BEEN WE HAVE AN AUTHOR HERE CALLED 2HOT BC THAT WAS HER FIRST FIC IT’S MAYBE MY FAV EVER DEFINITELY TOP 3