“If only you knew,” he said. Wraped up in the sheets in a cold dark room, that’s when we always seemed to find time for revelations and feelings pouring out in the open.
         ”Knew what?” I asked, but he didn’t answer pretending to not have heard me. “Knew what?” I insisted.
         “The two weeks you disappeared, I was already falling…” and just like that, it felt as if a huge bus had hit me. You’d think I’d be thrilled, but I wasn’t. I had hurt the person I cared most for in the world, for being selfish and scared. I ran. That’s what I do best. When emotions get involved, I run instead of facing them. Two weeks was a short time, to me, but to him it was an eternity I can’t ever take back. I buried my face in his chest as I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, in hopes that he wouldn’t notice. Regret. He knew. He pulled me in closer, my legs tangled around his, his arms around me protectively, like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly.
         ”It’s my fault, it’s my fault…” He whispered, reassuring me that it was all okay. But of course it wasn’t. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so self-absorbed?
         ”It doesn’t matter anymore, because we’re here now.” That’s what I hate and love about him most, he’s too close to perfect and I’m the little mess that I am. How could he forgive me when I couldn’t even forgive myself? About a million things were running around my mind at that moment. I love him, but he deserves better than me. I debated on whether I should tell him that.
         “I love you,” I muffled into his chest. He kissed my forehead.
         “I love you too,” 

         And then nothing else was needed to be said after that.