Skinny Love by Bon Iver

The fluttering of his eyelashes against my cheek let me know that he was waking up. I hadn't really been to sleep, wanting to treasure every second of this fleeting moment, but he had been asleep most of the night. I held him close, not wanting to let go, but knowing that I had to because nights like the one that had just ended couldn't last forever.
He stirred, nuzzling his head into my neck and I felt the facial hair that had begun to grow after a few days of neglect, scratch against my collar bone. His hand slowly moved from my waist to my chest and came to a stop, resting right above my heart. Or at least, what was left of it.
He let out a sigh and his breath slid between the collar of my shirt and my neck, traveling down my chest and stomach, just slightly. The gust of air sent a tingling feeling from my head all the way to my toes.
"What time is it?" I heard him whisper.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, simultaneously praying that it would still be early, but to my dismay, it was nearly eight. It was almost time for him to go back to her.
"It's almost eight," I told him, pulling him in closer and hoping that he would give me just five more minutes of this feeling. For a minute, I thought he just might, but then he began to prop himself up on his elbow and just looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, of course, because we'd had this conversation before and I didn't want to have it again. He leaned in to kiss me and I let him go, immediately wishing that I hadn't.
He made his way to the bathroom and I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes and brushing my hair out of my face.
"When are you meeting her today?" I called to the bathroom without moving from the bed.
He poked his head out of the bathroom, spreading tooth paste on the tooth brush he'd been keeping here for almost two years. "At nine," he responded beforing plunging the toothbrush into his mouth and retreating back to the bathroom.
I sat quietly on the bed, trying to soak in every second of his company, wishing that I knew what to say to make him speak once again, just so I could hear his voice.
A few minutes later, he exited the bathroom, fully clothed with his brown hair a mess on the top of his head the same way he always wore it.
He looked over at me and his face melted into a look of concern. Apparently, my acting wasn't very good this morning.
"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting down next to me and putting his hand on top of the blanket that covered my leg. He knew exactly what was wrong, but was just as afraid to admit it as I was.
"I just hate that you have to go," I admit to him, avoiding eye contact, knowing full well that my eyes would be the ones to betray me.
"I do, too," he said. "But you know how it is. If people don't see me out with her, they'll start to get suspicious. Especially if they see me out with you, and I don't want to drag you into all of this papparazzi drama and media bull-shit. It's really no fun."
"Well, you're going to have to one day, aren't you?" I asked, knowing full well that his answer would be as vague as it always was.
"Fame is fleeting," he said, standing, indicating the end of the conversation.
"I love you. You know that, right?"
He stopped and turned to face me, looking taken aback by my question. He walked up to me and kissed me on the forehead and then took my head in his hands and looked me in the eyes.
"Of course I know that," he said. "I love you to the moon and back."
His words warmed my heart for a split second but as soon as his hands left contact with my cheeks, I felt the cold take over again.
"I'll call you later, okay?" he said as he headed towards my bedroom door. I heard his feet pad down the stairs and the front door open and then click shut, signifying that he was gone.
I curled up under the sheets again and inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent and trying to remember what it was like when this all started. Before everything became so damn comlicated and strained. Before everything became so fabricated. Back when love was love and it didn't matter that we were both boys. Before the fame and the success that eventually led us both down a path of secrets.
I felt bad feeling bad for myself. I knew he had it twice as hard if he loved me half as much as he said he did. But I think that was why I was so scared. He was stretched so thin and so was our love and the idea of either one of those things breaking scared me to death.
So, I did what he told me to do and I waited.