i'm sorry for playng hard to get... after the games were over.

i can't decide which song makes me sadder, Hide and Seek or Exit Music (for a film) so i've been flicking between the two since eight this morning.
do you ever twist the lyrics to fit you? sometimes i feel like i've changed the entire song for myself.


if we arranged to meet each other at six, i would be there at half.
he hated that. i hated that. i was always late. it wasn't deliberate. just inconsiderate.
but he would always wait for me.

i'd push that door open, just enough so i could see that he was there. i always felt horrible after i'd make him wait- guiltguilt.
i remember how excited i always was. i was always excited to see him. i'd pretty much bounce out of the car and into the lift.

he'd be sitting with his headphones in his ears staring straight ahead - towards the stairs. looking to see if by some sort of miracle i had decided to get some exercise and take the stairs. this was a rare occurrence and only ever happened if the wait for the lift was too agonizing.
i'd push the door open, and my bag would make that dreadful clink it makes. i'd let my head through the tiny space i'd opened and wait to see if he'd finally be angry.. Gradually, i'd let myself in the door.
and he'd stand up, and i'd put my bag down, and he'd watch me, and i'd begin to wait:
he'd stand in front of me, and i knew i could go one of two ways; i could a) apologize for being late or.. i could let him.
he stood there, right in front of me just the right amount apart, 10inches at the most. his hands would take my hips, and run back to my waist so slowly i thought i would melt. and my hands, would push the whole way up his chest, onto his shoulders and around his neck.
"i'm sorry I'm late.. therewastrafficandiwaslongerthannormalintheshower.."
"i missed you so so much, Lily."
and he'd let one of his hands rise the whole way up my back and onto the back of my head while my head found it's way under his chin.
he was never mad. never annoyed. never disappointed.
he was just.. glad i was there, i suppose.

so we'd sit down. and i'd ask him how he was, like i did every other day. he'd tell me he was good. and ask me how i was. i was never really able to answer.
i would only smile. he'd turn his entire body to accommodate mine. his hand, would be on the floor beside my hip - which it would later find itself attached to.
he would have his eyes, align with mine - he had the most amazing green eyes i have ever seen in my life. and if he ever cried, they would be so bright. like a highlighter, he always said. he was funny, too, y'know.
the way he'd look at me was almost mockingly. he knew exactly why i couldn't answer the simple question. not even with a one worded answer. once i knew he was fine... he has this little half smile kinda-thing. it's the most.. patronizing and the most wonderful thing he'd ever do.
and he'd usher the rest of his body closer to mine. i was sitting up against a wall, and it sort of sounds like he pushed himself on me. but that's not what he did at all.

his eyes would be right in front of mine, and i'd get embarrassed because i couldn't answer some lousy question so.. i'd look down. i'd look at his lips. i'd watch him smile. then i'd smile. and then we'd laugh a little.
it's all so romantic, now.
one hand, was on my hip. He had the greatest hands for making me smile. he always knew exactly what to do with them.
the other, found it's way from holding my hand, up my arm and the tip of his thumb would fall just on my bottom lip, his fingers under my chin (meanwhile, i'm still trying to decipher if i'm alright. the answer: no. obviously not.) He could really own me when he wanted to.
and then.. it was there. this delicate, little kiss that was just ours. that made everything else seem meaningless because it was so significant.
he loved me. and i loved him.
"are you alright?"
- i'd nod. there were never any words that could follow him after that.



Would you say that one of your dreams
Got in you and ripped out the seams?
'Cause that's what I'd say...