You were hurrying to get back home, to step over the threshold of the apartment that had become familiar, to breathe in the scent soaked into the walls, to hold him.
You were almost running along the wet asphalt, stepping into puddles and staining your office trousers. You wanted so badly to catch Zayne there while he was still around. It would have been your second Valentine’s Day spent under the label of a relationship.
It would have been. He was busy all day again. no matter how festive the day was, patients never ran out, and paperwork only kept piling up. You couldn’t shake the thought that all holidays would be like this. Encouraging smiles in the morning, brief congratulations in the evening, too sleepy to truly celebrate. As it turned out, after the start of your relationship, almost nothing had changed, even if Zayne himself had wanted it. Sometimes you would sit by the window with swollen eyes from unshed tears, imagining what your beloved felt like, sitting at his desk all day, his face buried in his work computer, not even able to text you.
You burst into the apartment, leaving the keys in the lock, throwing your coat onto the dresser, immediately heading to your bedroom.
You carefully but impatiently open the door with a foolish smile, hoping to catch him while he was getting ready, unaware of your arrival.
Empty. You sweep your gaze across the room, earnestly trying to see what isn’t there, slowly walking deeper inside and freezing. He had already left.
You knew it would be hard. Everyone said it, you told yourself. He said it too. But for some reason, you can’t believe it.
And you know it’s not any easier for him. That the whole day is like a hamster wheel. That instead of sleep he works through the night. That he might be missing you. But even your last message wasn’t read. You had asked when he would leave. Could you have crossed paths by a minute? Gloomy thoughts kept pressing harder, all because you knew it was your fault. In a second you manage to think through everything possible, settling on a firm decision to go to the hospital. He asked you not to, not wanting to worry you or burden you with being there with him, but you never listen to him anyway.
You let out a startled cry, flinching when hands wrap around your waist, interrupting your thoughts about what you would do next. You want to turn around, to make sure, but the firm grip doesn’t let you.
— You’re early. — The honey voice sounds from behind, inhaling the scent of your hair.
Cheated to scare you. You think he’s probably waiting for your heart to stop from the shock. He knew you would doubt him again, that you were planning to sit alone once more.
Zayne sadly understood that he himself had taught you this, that he had been gone day and night.
You still turn your head, meeting his half-closed eyes. At the corners there are small wrinkles from a faint smile, and his long eyelashes tremble slightly, betraying how sleepy he is. Letting out a relieved breath, you relax and rest your head against him. You breathe deeply, calming the storm of emotions, the desire to never leave again, never let him go, to take care of him like a child.
— You’re here.
He sways you from side to side as much as his remaining strength allows, quietly exhaling at your happy laughter. Freed from the tight embrace, you finally look into his half-open eyes with dark circles underneath. Noticing the change in your mood, he takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. He brings your joined hands to his face, kissing your protruding knuckles while you look at him with loving eyes.
Seizing every chance, you greedily study his features, thinking about how long it’s been since you last did. It feels like you had already forgotten his beautiful hazel eyes and the aristocratic curve of his nose. Every time you are still surprised that you are dating this otherworldly man.
— Happy Valentine’s Day. — You smile widely when Zayne stretches your intertwined hands outward, keeping the other on your waist. Usually so serious, now he dances a waltz with you without music, following the rhythm of his own count. Or he trying to dance. He clumsily moves his feet, careful not to step on you, but he only looks into your eyes.
You can always be sure that you will be his first priority.