He nibbles at the sensitive skin in my neck and I giggle, trying to escape his hold. He lets me without putting up too much of a fight, and kisses the top of my hand softly.
“I’ll get a shirt for you in my car.”
“Thank you.”
He leaves and I head to the bathroom only to realize that my brush is not here anymore and that the only thing left is my toothbrush and an almost empty tube of toothpaste.
The toothpaste Nate let me choose when I came shopping with him and he got me a toothbrush. The one he’s been using ever since. It seems like meaningless details, but it’s a big deal. Overnight, he changed a lot of things and habits to incorporate me. And I only notice now.
He joins me not 2 minutes later and I catch my pensive frown in the mirror as I lean to spit in the bowl.
“I’ve put the shirt on the bed,” he says as he takes his toothbrush out of his little travel bag. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
He kisses my forehead and I slip out to change.
When he leaves the bathroom shortly after me, I’m already under the cover, staring at the ceiling.
He slides next to me—on the spot at my right, like he always does—and pulls me into his arms.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks as I nestle against his chest. “You look a little off.”
“I’m—It feels weird sleeping here.”
“Ah,” he sighs. “You haven’t slept here in a while. I’m sorry, I’ve—”
“No, no. I just—I don’t miss it.”
He stays silent for a while, and I could almost fall asleep with the beating of his heart.
“You don’t?” he finally asks.
“I—Random feeling of the day?” I pause a couple of seconds, searching for my words. “I think I’d like to move the rest of my stuff tomorrow.”
The room, the whole house is quiet, the only sound is our breathing and heartbeat.
“To move in with you,” I add. “Home.”
“Home,” he repeats slowly. “With me.”
I nod against his chest, and his arms tighten around me.
“Home is where you are,” he whispers. “If you wanted me to move here, I would. If you wanted me to sell my house for us to take a crappy apartment in the city, I’d do it gladly. If you wanted us to move across the country, I’d book the tickets myself.”
I take a breath like a weight has been lifted off my lungs and smile against his chest.
“Your house will do. After all, it already has my favorite shampoo and conditioner, my favorite brand of toothpaste, my favorite coffee, most of my stuff, a whole pack of grape juice…”
He pinches my waist playfully and I giggle.
“I’d be lying if I told you that your shampoo is not for my benefit. I sniff at it everyday when you’re at work like a drug addict.”
I laugh in his neck, shaken by the rumbling of his chest.
“Your house feels like you. And you feel like home.”
“I’ll move your stuff first thing in the morning,” he says softly.
I fall asleep the same way I did for the last month. Feeling happy and safe. Feeling like life is finally more than just a struggle to survive.
