But Of Course, He Wasn't

You say hi to your friend and give him a hug, thanking him for coming to your performance. "It means so much to me," you say as you catch him out of the corner of your eye, looking, stealing glances at you. When you say bye to your friend and walk towards him you both smile. "You came!" you say and he lifts his left arm high into the air, inviting you in for a hug. Your guarded heart thinks that this is nothing, he goes to everyone's performances and hugs everyone this way for all you know.

You notice that it's just the one arm in the air, that it's up high and when you walk into (under?) it, he wraps it around, pulling you in close and closing it off with his right. It seems to scream Under His Wing and the last thing you want is to feel little-er than you already do (barefoot) and like a child that he is teaching and observing, giving him another reason to call you "cute". So instead, you get on tiptoes and go into the hug with your arms reaching over his, just the way you like it ("You've met your match" you once said to him). He has to bend a bit (remember the barefeet) and he hugs you so tightly, so hard, that you felt the muscle in your shoulder blade spasm.

His hair has grown out and escapes under the sides of his cap. "I'm going for the Ashton Kutcher look," he says. You think to yourself that he doesn't really look anything like Ashton Kutcher, and that this is possibly a good thing because you've never really found Ashton particularly attractive. You smile at the locks that poke out and are reminded of his hair colour, different shades of brown yet virgin, never been dyed.

He coughs every now and then and you remember that he's been sick for a while. "Did you lose weight?" you ask, concerned about the severity of the cold. No, apparently it's just the jacket. It's new and he doesn't have the discman in it so there's less bulk. You actually did notice the jacket because when you saw him earlier that afternoon he looked different somehow, and you couldn't quite put your finger on it. He did look thinner. "But the ponch is still there," you say, "It's just hidden." He chuckles and you wonder if you've entertained or embarrassed him. You know that the ponch will always be there, no matter how good new jackets look on him.

He left his scent on the left side of your neck that night, and every time you turned you smelled him, thinking that he was there.
2:10 pm