If we will ever go home…
Then again, I don’t want to go home. Putting my brothers aside, home was hell for me.

He’s right across from me on the couch, reading one of his favorite books for the sixth time.

Our toes are causually brushing against each other, causing him to smile and glance up from the pages of his book every so often.

Neither one of us is speaking, but the silence is nice. It’s natural. I love listening to the soft sound of his breathing.

I love this. I love how I make him smile, laugh. I love the way we touch eachother. I love him. I love the way he loves me.

I want to spend forever with this man.