Page 74 of Sorry, We're Closed

His gaze softens as he begins to piece together what he has just said. “You and I are okay, we are okay. Us, two guys, being together, is okay. More than okay.”

His eyelashes begin to glitter again, but this time, for an entirely different reason. A good reason. An amazing reason, because realising something about yourself that has always been there and has always been amazing, yet it has been dimmed and dulled by those around you for years, is a good reason to cry. I cave and finally wipe his tears with my thumbs, his cheeks cupped in both my hands as his tears roll down my painted nails.

“When are you guys leaving?” His voice cracks as he speaks, but his beaming smile remains entirely.

“Tomorrow, ten in the morning.”

“Well, I guess I need to figure out what I’m doing. I need to at least go back and let Gwen and Xander know that you haven’t mauled me to pieces.”

“I mean, do you have to, though? Could you not just stay here until we leave?”

He chuckles to himself with my attempt to relieve his head of everything I have catapulted at him on this beautiful morning.

I pull his ear close to my lips. “We could do a lot more of last night?”

He bites his lip, his entire face flushing red as he buries himself into my shoulder. I’m going to have so much fun putting him in such a flustered state over and over, if he decides to join us. I hope he does. Ireallyhope he does.

As he slowly reveals himself once again, he begins to lift himself from my lap and wanders around the flat looking for every radiator, collecting every piece of his now dry clothing from the night before. As the articles hang over his arm, his smile begins to lessen, and I find myself standing in front of him, hands on his waist, asking him what’s wrong.

“I don’t want to take these off.” He signals to his outfit, and I wonder how he can become any sweeter, he goes and says that.

I kiss his forehead, my lips lingering against his skin. “Who said you need to change?”

I continue to adore his scarlet face as he leaves his original outfit on the bedside table, folded. As handsome as he looked in that outfit, I can sense an addiction growing to handing him as many items of my clothing as possible to wear.

As he checks his pockets for his phone, nodding to himself once he finds it in the hoodie pouch that he probably isn’t used to, I lead him through the flat door, down the creaking stairs and through the shop, reaching the front door. The front door which he turned up at the previous night, drenched, shouting through cupped hands, and throwing rocks at my window. The same door which a month ago, he ran out of in sheer panic from the woman who controlled his every movement. He’s come so incredibly far, it’s hard not to proud of him.

“Why are you staring, baby?”

Sawyer stands at the shop’s front door, his fingers laced with mine, and all I want to do is throw my arms around him, tight, and ask him to stay. Every time I’ve ever said goodbye to him, we’ve always risked it being the last time. This could be the last time I see Sawyer Sombre, and I would never want to forget him if that were to become true. I’d never want to forget the way his curls rest so perfectly on the top of his metallic glasses’ frames, the way his freckles map their own constellations across the entirety of his body but particularly his cheeks, or the way my clothes practically wear him.

“You are beyond beautiful, Sawyer, that’s why.”

His cheeks turn that familiar scarlet once more as he presses his smaller frame against me, both of his hands fitting perfectly in mine, and he gazes up at me with those emeralds of his.

Please don’t go. Please don’t leave that question clouding the stagnant air with if I’ll ever see you again.

“Avory, I need to go think everything over, okay? This is… whatever’s left of my life being uprooted and moved, and I would be leaving parts of myself here, too. Whatever happens, we will make us work,we have to work.”

Before I can begin to beg with every possible reason for why he should stay, his lips meet mine and I want to melt into him. Melt into the man who was once just some cute barista over a counter, however, is now someone who I want by my side. I want his hand in mine, his lips on mine, his eyes on mine, everything always.

I feel every crease of his lips slowly pull away from mine, and I wish for the print of his lips to linger on mine forever so I can always remember how he feels. His fingers begin to loosen their grip, the softness of his fingertips tickling across my skin and the overwhelming memory of my hands trailing the entirety of his smooth skin flood my mind.

He steps back, his hands wrapping around the door handle behind him, yet his eyes remain on me. Somehow, the silence which lingers between us, grows even quieter.

“Take your time, beautiful.”

The corners of his mouth curl ever so slightly as the creaking of the handle fills the room, followed by that damn twinkling bell, and finally, by the click of the wooden door filling its frame once again. My eyes fixate on his dainty hands as he scrunches the cotton sleeves hanging down his arms and buries them into the pouch pocket. He may be out of sight, but is it possible for him to ever be outof my mind?

“Hey A, are you ready?” Marcus’ voice booms up the stairs, every syllable causing my chest to thump.

I’m not ready to go yet, because he’s not here. I continued to replay the last moments I saw him, his footsteps leaving causing his hazel curls to bounce, over and over until my mind exhausted itself and forced me to close my eyes and drop my weight onto the sofa. Marcus found me this morning, his hand gripping and shaking my shoulder, and yet rather than questioning why I was sprawled there and having to be brought back into the room, my mind imagined how creased and stretched my sleeves must be right now with Sawyer’s fiddling and twisting, but I wouldn’t want them any other way. I don’t care about what comes with him, I just wanthimand everything about him that makes him… him.

“Avory? I’m heading to the van, bud, don’t forget your keys!”

The entire flat has been packed away. The rooms remain exactly how we found them months ago since we have been making trips through the shop and to the van all morning, followed by deep cleaning and my constant surveillance of the streets, for him. I have already checked every drawer, cupboard and unit more times than I can remember in the hopes I’ll find something we have forgotten. If I find something, then that would give us more time before we can leave. It would givehimmore time.

I have never felt ache like this. An ache strong enough to steal the breath from my lungs, to rob me of the tears I am desperate to pour out into this empty room, to rip me of any of my own thoughts since I’m drowning in every memory of us, of what we were. I force air into my chest, past my lips in a desperate need to hide my state from Marcus.

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