You forget the luxuries of living alone.
Blasting music, don't have to share the computer, can eat whenever you want, can sleep whenever you want, and can take up the entire bed without feeling guilty.
But you miss opening your eyes and seeing his sleeping face, coming home from a day of work and being welcomed with kisses and nuzzles. You miss watching videos together, laughing about stupid shit. You miss the showers and the dinner dates and the times when it was just the two of you. You miss the late night scrabble, and the moment of cuddling before you both scurry to your opposite sides of the bed, one of you almost falling off.
I'm meant to live alone. I function better when I'm able to do my own thing.
But damn, I'd do anything to get another week with you.
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