We knew it would happen.
Four years of tension and friendship.
It didn't start that way. I offered you a sip of my cider under the bridge when I was fourteen, you were fifteen, you drank half the bottle!
I'd paid a fiver for that.
I loved your very nearly arrogant self-confidence.
Your awesome intelligence.
The way you used to wear grotty holey jeans, like me.
Then we both progressed to our clean-cut eccentric styles. But knew we'd happily sit in the dust and dirt in our best clothes just because.
I loved that you loved hats too.
I loved that you inspired me.
I loved that you gave me your Natural Sciences hoody from uni.
I loved that you showed me Amelie.
And Breakfast at Tiffanys.
Well that's one thing we've got...
I loved that we would quote obscure song lyrics at each other to form conversations.
That I would wake up in the middle of the night to find you groggily waking up beside me and gently pulling me even closer.
That your hair was as ginger as it gets!
That your arms were just the right kind of rounded muscle.
That one of your ears stuck out at a funny angle.
That you got spots.
That we were both freckly together.
That you'd always fall asleep before me.
That you grew a moustache!! (Also ginger)
That you took me to get a pie on Valentines day :)
That our passion won't die.
I'm eating crisps on my bed right now, and your hoodie is hung on the wardrobe door opposite me.
Amelie is shut away inside the DVD case on top of my speakers behind me.
Your socks are on my desk, all crumpled.
Your hat is on the second-to-bottom shelf of my cupboard.
And I know you still have my t-shirt.
And that picture I drew.
And the wrapper from the Wensleydale cheese I bought you in return for my Valentines pie.
I love that we both know it's happening without having to even speak about it.
And I hate that we both know it's happening without having even spoken to each other in months.