Scent and Gravity
The last time that you told me you were bored with me, I went away for a week and we had a break where we either talked sparsely or not at all. I dialed you that Saturday night after drinking too much, and I was sitting in a lobby. You told me to come over. You found me at your door a half hour later. I was stumbling into your chest, ecstatic to inhale you again. It made you laugh. I tried to catch all of the lines on your face as you broke into louder laughter before you wrapped your arms around me, pressed your face against my neck, and breathed in the scent on my skin. It was the warmest hello. You had just gotten back from a night out with the roomie, and you two were probably filled with whiskey and ginger ale.
You led me into your room. I hopped on you and covered you in kisses while roomie was sitting in your therapy chair, talking to you about the history of Taiwan with his wild gestures and his rolling speech, charisma and all. His voice was all husky from cigarettes. He was built for feeding words to people, having been raised by a father in politics. And he was used to our refusal to suppress affection in front of anybody.
He left us alone after fifteen minutes or so. We were on the yoga mat and your heater was on. It was still winter. You held me while I sat on you, looking at you with equal parts love and caution. I was still protecting myself. You looked back at me with interest and curiosity. You asked me why I loved you so much. I gave you only some of my reasons, and I ended on, “because feeling your love is the most blissful thing.”
This was the moment where our love started to return and things started to be right again. I stopped thinking that things were ending completely, though I still had my concerns. But I could sense that something had changed about our relationship again. I was still cautious, scared. But I let myself fall back into it regardless. Slowly, it came back to me with heavy force. Gradually, it became heavier than it was before. And we found ourselves falling back into each other, a mutual addiction. A mutual purpose. A mutual problem.