I personally think it’s too cold to have the windows open, but you wanted to smoke your cigarettes. Your hands were shaking and teeth chattering as you sat perched on the ledge, looking out into the snow covered streets. The wind whistling through our tiny apartment was the only sound. I sat in my spot, on the couch I called a bed; wrapped in a thick scratchy blanket, watching you from across the room.

Your sweater was doing a piss poor job of keeping you warm, so I got up with my blanket in tow and made my way to you.

“Come here.” I said, wrapping my arms around your thin body, draping the blanket over the both of us. I could feel how cold you truly were and I wondered what possibly could be stressing you so much that you’d risk hyperthermia just to fill your lungs with smoke.

I didn’t press though, I never did. It wasn’t my place to ask, my place was to take care of you.

You stubbed the end of the cigarette and then turned in my arms. Our chest now pressed together, my arms still tightly wrapped around you. I moved you away from the window, shrugging the blanket off my shoulders and placing it completely over you. I then made sure to shut and lock the window, silently praying that it wouldn’t be opened again today.

“You want me to make you some hot chocolate?” I asked. You shook your head, I knew you were too afraid, thinking it would cause the stomach pains to come back, you were probably right. I don’t think I could handle seeing you like that today, doubled over in tears and nothing I could do to stop it.

You give me a reassuring smile and take my hand, leading me towards your bedroom. These were the moments that had my stomach fluttering with butterflies. It was a treat for you to allow me into your personal space, you retreat away from the world. So perfectly you it was, dirty clothing littering the floor, spray painted drawings decorated the walls and your notebook tossed carelessly on the mattress that looked all too inviting at that moment.

You pulled me down with you and we laid back, my arms wrapping around your frail body, hoping to warm your shivering form.

“I love you Kurt.” I whisper once you are asleep. I mean every word of it, being here with you I wouldn’t trade for the world.