I think I finally understood how my parents must have felt when Mara went off to college.
I hadn’t gone with them when they took her, but I remember the way my mother would sit on the couch afterward, silent for a while, then dissolve into sobs. Sometimes it wasn’t even crying—it was a guttural, grief-stricken wail that rattled through the house. Back then, I didn’t understand. I’d look at my dad, exasperated, and say, “She’s going to be back in a month.” But then I’d see his eyes glisten, too, and that confused me even more.
Now I understood.
I sat in my car, watching Justin disappear into the dorm, dragging his suitcase behind him. Each step he took away from me felt like someone was pulling a thread straight through my chest. He turned once, waving, that shy little smile on his face, and my vision blurred. When he vanished through the doors, I stayed parked there longer than I should have, staring at the spot he’d last stood. Only when my throat began to ache did I reach for a tissue and blow my nose. The tears kept coming anyway.
Even the thought of the hotel reservation I’d made, five weeks from now, when I could visit him again, didn’t soothe the ache. I loved that man. I knew it with the same certainty as the sky’s color or the warmth of firelight. I loved him, and I would have done anything for him. The problem was that love didn’t make the waiting any easier.
The drive home blurred into quiet miles of winter gray and memory. My mind wandered to the last time I saw Mara—how her face had looked that day, drawn and oddly bare, as though she’d come straight from some reckoning. I remember opening the door and seeing her standing there, coat unbuttoned, hair not quite in place. That alone told me something was wrong.
The first words out of her mouth were, “I had to come straight here. Is Justin around?”
“He’s right here,” I said, pointing toward the kitchen.
I saw Justin stiffen slightly at the sound of her voice. It had been less than a week since Christmas. Still, he smiled and asked, “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, or…?”
“Coffee would be great,” she said, pausing. “Just a bit of milk.” Her eyes rested on him for a moment, studying him the way she does when she’s forming a judgment. “You really are a sweet man, aren’t you?”
“I’m just an ordinary one,” Justin replied.
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. Very few men would treat me so kindly after I accused them of being a scam artist.”
My stomach clenched.
“But I was wrong,” she continued. “I spoke to your mother.”
Justin’s face went pale. I moved closer, instinctively, just in case he needed me to steady him. He didn’t speak, but I saw his hands tremble slightly as he reached for a mug and poured the coffee.
“Let me,” I said gently, taking the small beaker of milk from his hand. “She doesn’t use as much as we do.”
He turned, managing a smile through damp eyes.
Mara took a deep breath before continuing. “Your mother told me what happened, Justin. I can’t describe how angry I was when I heard it. I might’ve let her have a piece of my mind for how she treated you.” Her voice softened. “But… while I was there, she paid for your last semester of school.”
Justin froze.
“She told me it was only right,” Mara went on, her lip trembling. “But she also asked me to warn you not to go home. She’s worried about what your father might do. And she said—” Mara’s voice broke “—that in a fight between her husband and her son, she would always choose her husband. Even if she didn’t agree with him.”
The silence that followed was thick. Then Justin quietly handed her the mug.
“I make really good coffee,” he said softly. “Thank you for looking out for Phillip. That’s what families are supposed to do. And it’s what I’ll be doing now, too. With both of us on his team, the world better not cross him. I can see you tearing it to shreds and me stomping it into oblivion.”
Mara gave a shaky laugh before standing and pulling him into a hug. He hugged her back, gently at first, then tighter.
And me? I blubbered like a fool. “There’s too much love in this room,” I said, wiping at my eyes. “I’m going to drown.”
Justin reached out and pulled me into the embrace. The three of us stood there, tangled in warmth and forgiveness, the air around us heavy with tears and coffee steam.
Back in the present, I blinked hard, focusing on the snowy road ahead. My nose was plugged again. No one ever tells you that happiness can make you cry more than heartbreak ever did.
The apartment felt wrong without him. Not empty exactly, his things were still here, his favorite mug on the counter, the throw blanket he always used folded neatly on the couch, but quiet in a way that pressed against me. Every sound seemed sharper: the faint hum of the refrigerator, the tick of the clock above the fireplace. I made it through the first night by leaving the TV on, low, until I fell asleep.
By the third night, I gave up pretending I wasn’t waiting for my phone to ring.
He finally called just after ten. His voice came through a little fuzzy, as if it had traveled through too many miles of cold winter air before reaching me.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey yourself.” I sat back in my chair, smiling without meaning to. “How’s the dorm?”
“Smaller than I remember,” he said. “Or maybe I’m just used to a place that smells like coffee and you.”
That one hit me right in the chest. “It’s only been three days, you sentimental fool.” I felt my eyes moisten.
“Yeah, well. I’ve had a lot of practice missing you.”
For a moment neither of us said anything. I could hear the faint sounds of his new world in the background, someone laughing down the hall, a door closing, the faint rhythm of something. I imagined him sitting cross-legged on his bed, hair still damp from a shower, one lamp on, his phone warm in his hand.
“You settling in okay?” I asked.
“Mostly. Classes start next week. My roommate’s here; same quiet Joe, he’s an engineering major like me, so it’s the good kind of quiet.”
“That’s a relief.”
There was a pause, longer this time. “Phillip,” he said finally, “thank you again. For everything. The clothes, the laptop… just everything. I know you’ll say I don’t owe you anything, but I still need you to know I see it. All of it.”
“Justin,” I said gently, “I know you do. It’s part of why I fell in love with you. You just owe yourself the chance to finish what you started.”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice sounded smaller. “I keep thinking about Christmas Eve. The firelight, the tree lights flickering behind you… it didn’t feel real. Like maybe we dreamed the whole thing. And then, when you made love to me in front of the fire. My life felt complete.”
“It was real,” I said. “That’s what makes this hard, but I know that all this is worth it.”
A soft laugh came through the line. “You know what’s crazy? I miss your laugh. And the sound you make when you stir your coffee, the way you make it clack, like the spoon has rhythm.”
“You’re really stretching for sentimental metaphors tonight.”
“I’m an English minor. It’s part of what I do.”
We both laughed then, quietly, but it didn’t stop the ache that settled in after.
“I’m proud of you,” I said, finally. “I just want you to focus on school. Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Try anyway. Five weeks isn’t forever.”
“No,” he said softly. “But it’s long enough to know if what we have can last.”
I heard something shift in his tone—vulnerability threaded with conviction.
“I already know,” I told him. “The rest is just geography.”
He let out a long breath. “You always know the right thing to say.”
“That’s only because I’m talking to you.”
Another silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time. Just… full.
“I should probably get some sleep,” he said finally. “Early orientation on my final project.”
“All right. Call me when you can. Or text. Or send smoke signals. Just don’t disappear.”
“I won’t. Promise.”
“Goodnight, Justin.”
“Goodnight, Phillip.”
The line clicked, and for a few seconds I sat there, phone still pressed to my ear, listening to the quiet hum of the empty room. I missed him. I missed the sound of him moving through the apartment, the warmth of him beside me. But under the ache, there was something else, something steady and certain. How could he have just joined my life in the middle of December? Hadn’t he always been there?
Love, I realized, doesn’t always mean being together. Sometimes it’s the space between two people, held open by faith.
I looked over toward my bedroom, then got up and walked to the doorway. The heart-shaped pillow that Justin had purchased for me was on the bed in the same place it was Christmas Eve after that first shower.
Proust had his madeleines, and I had my purple pillow. And my mémoire involontaire was my first time to experience true physical love.
Justin and I stood in the doorway of the dimly lit room, the soft glow of a nearby lamp casting a warm, amber hue across our faces. Our fingers were laced together, the touch electric, sending sparks of anticipation through my veins. The air was filled with the fresh, citrusy scent of our recently showered skin, mingling with the faint, musky undertone of our arousal. Our souls burned with a love so intense it seemed to ignite the very air around us.
I spotted the heart-shaped pillow, its vibrant purple fabric a stark contrast against the muted tones of the room. "What’s this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, laden with curiosity and desire.
Justin's eyes, dark and smoldering, met mine. "Just an expression of how I feel inside," he replied, his voice a low rumble that resonated through my chest.
I turned to face him, and he covered my mouth with his, his soft lips caressing mine with a tenderness that belied the fierce passion simmering beneath the surface. I pushed my tongue forward, meeting his in a dance of exploration and discovery. The surfaces of our tongues pushed together, slick and hot, as a shiver of pleasure passed through me, my penis swelling with anticipation.
Justin pulled slightly back, his breath ragged, and wrapped his hand around my hard shaft. Without a word, he pulled me towards the bed, the soft, plush surface inviting us to lose ourselves in each other. With his free hand, he moved the covers aside, revealing the cool, smooth sheets beneath. He sat on the edge of the bed and drew me even closer, his eyes never leaving mine as he gently kissed the head of my penis, his tongue tracing a path down the shaft, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
"I’ve always wanted to do this, to know what this was like, but since meeting you, it’s been an overwhelming desire," Justin murmured. He wrapped his lips around my erection, sliding down as far as he could, his tongue pushing my hardness up toward the roof of his mouth, the sensation exquisite and almost unbearable.
I drew in quick, shallow breaths, a moan escaping my lips as waves of pleasure crashed over me. For his first time, he was remarkably skilled, his technique sending me spiraling towards the edge of ecstasy. The intense pleasure made me yearn to reciprocate, to explore his body with the same fervor.
"I could do this all night," he whispered, his words a seductive promise that made my heart race. But I knew I wouldn't last, not with him.
"My turn," I told him, my voice husky with desire. He released me, and I dropped to my knees in front of him, my mouth meeting his once more. I simply could not get enough of him. My mouth dropped down as I pushed his legs apart, my hands gripping his thighs, feeling the firm, warm muscle beneath my fingers. I gripped his dick with my mouth, applying as much suction as I could muster, pulling it into me, relishing the taste and feel of him.
Justin's fists clenched the edge of the bed, his knuckles turning white. "Oh, fuck, yes," he groaned, and I had to smile, my lips releasing their grip as I moved up to kiss him again, my heart swelling with love.
"Let me know if you didn’t like that," I breathed into his ear, my voice a low, teasing murmur.
"Oh, I liked it, and you know I did," he replied, his voice laced with satisfaction and desire.
I smiled again, my eyes meeting his as I continued to gaze into the depths of his soul, seeing the love and longing reflected back at me. I slowly moved forward to kiss him again, our lips meeting in a soft, tender caress that promised so much more.
As we kissed, Justin moved back on the bed, his head slowly drifting down toward the pillow, the soft, plush surface cradling him. I was centered over him, between his legs, our erections moving together in a rhythm as old as time, each micromovement sending a shot of ecstasy coursing through my veins.
Justin reached over and grabbed the purple pillow, handing it to me. As I took it from him, I felt something attached to the back. It was a bottle of Astroglide, the cool, slick liquid a promise of pleasure to come. I looked down at Justin, his eyes dark with anticipation.
"I knew you would need it for what comes next," he said in a low, seductive murmur that sent a shiver down my spine.
I kissed him again, my hands trembling slightly as I poured the lubricant onto my fingers, the cool, slippery liquid a stark contrast to the heat of our bodies. As a beginner to the world of anal intercourse, I have to admit to making a mess with the lubricant, the sheets, Justin’s hair, the pillows all bearing testament to our passion and eagerness. We both laughed, the sound light and carefree, a moment of levity amidst the intensity of our desire.
I pushed inside him, the pressure of entry resulting in immense pleasure, his gasp barely audible as I penetrated him. Justin grabbed me just below my butt cheeks, pulling me farther into him, urging me deeper, harder. His hips began to pivot up, meeting my thrusts with a fervor that matched my own, his small, chirp-like gasps spurring me on, driving me to the brink of madness.
"Don’t stop," he panted, his voice a breathless plea that I was only too happy to obey. And I didn’t stop, not until I released into him, my body shuddering with the force of my orgasm. I lowered myself onto him, my chest heaving as I kissed him yet again.
"I’m sorry," he said, “no rimming with this lube.” His voice was a soft, apologetic murmur as he slid from beneath me. His hands spread my cheeks, his finger pushing into me, massaging my prostate with a skill that belied his inexperience. "It’s a night of firsts for both of us," he promised, his voice a low, seductive whisper that sent shivers down my spine.
I chuckled, the sound a low, breathless laugh. "You’re the boss, Boss," I replied, my voice a soft, teasing murmur as I relaxed, allowing him to enter me, his hardness pushing into virginal territory.
Now, he nibbled at my neck, his teeth a gentle, teasing contrast to the soft, wet heat of his tongue. His dick continued to rub in all the right places, the sensation building, intensifying, until I felt myself on the verge of exploding again, my dick pushing down into the mattress, seeking friction, release.
A grunt came from Justin, a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Oh, oh, oh," he panted, his voice a breathless, desperate plea as he sped up, his movements becoming more frantic, more urgent. I felt myself on the brink, my body tensing, coiling, ready to snap. And then I came for a second time, my body convulsing, my mind shattering into a million pieces as Justin pushed hard into me, his own release triggering mine, the pressure inside me building, intensifying, until it exploded, leaving me gasping and spent.
Justin lowered himself down onto me, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. He rolled onto his back, his chest heaving, his eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I wanted to last longer," he said, his voice a soft, apologetic murmur.
I turned to face him, my heart swelling with love and tenderness. "Everything is perfect," I told him, my voice a soft, soothing caress. "Well, except for the bed sheets," I added, a small, teasing laugh escaping my lips.
He chuckled, the sound a low, rumbling chuckle that sent vibrations through my chest. "You’re wonderful," he said, his voice a soft, heartfelt whisper that made my heart ache with love.
"Well, who am I to argue with the love of my life?" I murmured as I reached out, my fingers tracing the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every curve.
I saw his eyes moisten, the sheen of unshed tears making them glisten in the soft, amber light. "It’s OK; the sheets will wash out," I said, my voice a soft, reassuring murmur, a promise that no matter what, we would always find our way back to each other, back to this moment, back to this love.
He chuckled a little at that, the sound a soft, watery chuckle that made my heart ache with love and longing. "You know," I said, my voice a soft, reflective whisper. "I’ll remember this time forever. Your first; my first; our first."
The memory faded, and I sat again in the doorway to the bedroom. My purple pillow reminding me of what I already knew in my soul.
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