The setting sun casts a mellow, orange glow onto our living room complimenting the warm lighting we’ve filled our space with. It’s inviting, not just because of the modern, comfortable furniture and décor we picked out together when we moved in, but because everything about this space feels like us. You and I, we’re everywhere in this cozy apartment we share. Everything is a projection of our energy, our connection, our love, and that’s what makes it so special – that’s why I love it here so much. Because I feel you here even when you’re gone, whether it be for a day at work, or for months on tour. Your love and comfort fills and surrounds the place, reminding me every day how much you adore me; that you’re mine, and I’m yours.

It was all too natural of me to grab a shirt from your drawer to wear tonight; we shared everything and I know you loved it especially when I wore your clothes even if you feigned annoyance at it sometimes. I know it made you feel special in a way, and truth be told it made me feel special too, knowing I was the only one you’d let take your things for use. Because to you, what’s yours, you’d willingly give me if I wanted, and I, you. We can’t say no to each other and though to others that may be a downfall, somehow it only brought us closer. It was a way of becoming one with each other on every level – nothing we had was separated apart from work. When we were here everything was both of ours and there never a question about it.

I put my hair up in a messy ponytail that was half up and half down, and walked towards the kitchen to start dinner for us. You were at work; had been for an extra couple of hours that day to help out your team. Another thing I admired about you – you were an incredibly hard worker and would do anything to help them through any challenge even if it meant placing more burden on yourself. I disliked the exhaustion that work ethic produced for you, but I love being the one to hold you when you get home from a tough day and coax you to a peaceful sleep in my arms. I love being the one to give you rest and peace, things you told me were challenging to find for yourself. But that’s why we work so well together – we both need what the other can provide.

In the kitchen, I close a couple of windows as the sun’s retreat leaves a startling coldness to the air that causes goosebumps on my bare legs, something I would use as a reason to need to cuddle closer to you later. I start making one of our favorite comfort dishes: a chicken curry with coconut rice. I can’t explain it, and maybe we’re just that in tune with each other, but I know today has been particularly long for you and this is exactly what you need to give you comfort once you make it home.

I put some light music on our speaker as the remaining rays of daylight vanish from the walls, and I’m left to the warm glow of the stove light and our hanging lights in the living room. The place isn’t big, but it’s perfect for us; neither one of us needs a lot of space from each other anyway. As I listen and hum absentmindedly to the playlist of love songs I showed you when we first started dating, the one you once told me perfectly matched us in so many ways, I cook while checking the clock, eager for you to get home. I missed you, like I do every moment we’re not together. My favorite part about being separated though is when we get to hold each other again. Those moments hold so much love I’m sure people around can feel it radiating from us.

My mind wanders as I stir the curry, mixing in the last of the ingredients. I need to mix it thoroughly, then let it simmer for another 10 minutes before it’s ready to eat. The comforting aroma of fragrant spices drifts through the apartment, occupying one room at a time until the whole place completely emulates the feeling of home.

And that’s what you walk into – the soothing smell of one of our favorite dishes, while the lights create an enticing glow on the surroundings. You’re quiet coming in, so much so that I don’t even notice over the sound of the next song playing. One of my favorites; if there was ever a song that could be a representation of our relationship, I couldn’t think of a better one than this.

Tell me that I’m right, even if you’re lying, tell me what I want to hear.

Same four walls closing in; same old voice inside my head…

I let the music invade my mind as you carefully set your things down on the table. I’m still stirring as you stand by the front door and watch me quietly. You sigh from the lengthy day and the tiredness it’s caused you, but as you watch me cook for us in one of your shirts, gently swaying to the song, our song, you can’t help but smile from the warmth blooming in your chest. I sense you somehow, and when I turn and our eyes connect, I can see how much the day has drained you. But there you are, staring at me and smiling as if I’m the only thing in the world that matters and that warmth moves from you to me as we share this collective quiet moment of appreciation and love.

Something bubbles below me which draws my attention. I continue to stir and turn the stove down a little bit as the song continues to set the mood.

I can’t keep you safe, but I can keep you warm.

I can’t stop the rain, but we can ride the storm…

You move behind me, and I feel your gentle presence as your arms wrap around my waist. A smile I can’t keep away lifts my face as I feel the warmness of your chest pressing into my back and your face fall to the crook of my neck. I feel you pull me closer in this tender moment of just needing to be by me, and I feel it too. You hold me tightly as I monitor the food, still stirring occasionally but it no longer needing as much attention. You give my neck a soft kiss and whisper that you missed me. I put one hand over your arms that encircle me, and tell you I missed you too as I lean back in to you.

I ask how your day was, and you just give a quiet groan in response, starting to sway both of us to the music that fills the air. I give a soft laugh and tell you that dinner is almost ready. You pull a hand away from my waist and reach for the burner dial turning it to low, and when your hand finds mine again you’re pulling me away from the stove. You turn me around so I’m facing you. “Just a couple of minutes…” you plead as your forehead comes to rest against mine and your eyes close. I try to feign disapproval, but it’s a weak attempt at teasing as my arms instinctively wrap around your neck and pull you as close as possible. My eyes shut as well.

So we look for the good as we try and make sense

of the lessons we’ve learned in the wake of our sins…

There’s nothing in this moment but you and me – your arms around my waist, mine draped over your shoulders, one hand cradling the back of your neck. I feel your grip tighten but not too much. Just enough to keep me there with you…a firm reminder how much you needed me, and a representation in my mind of how much I need you as well.

This moment is perfect; this moment with you that lives in my brain like a memory that has become a foundation of us. I can see us swaying gently together in the warmness of everything, not caring about a single thing that worried or troubled us that day because none of it mattered now, anyway. We were together, and that was enough to fix anything.

I can’t stop the rain, but we can ride the storm.

We can make it through it all; go and show us what we really are…