unpolished [lams]

The Best Memory

A/n: Okay so this is what uh — this is what happens when I'm sad and listen to R. E. M

Love you so much. Enjoy! ❤

*****

When your day is long
And the night...

John woke up in the middle of the night. The illumination of the room wasn't too much, only the moon shining from in between the blinds.

He unconsciously threw an arm to his left. Felt nothing. It was empty. He wasn't there. John always forgot he wasn't there anymore.

The night is yours alone.

He shut his eyes forcefully, trying not to thing about it. He solved nothing by thinking about it. It only pained him even more. He was empty. Just like the left side of his bed.

It used to be their bed.

He sighed heavily, felt the knot forming in his throat. Counted till nine in his head. He always avoided the ten.

When you're sure you've had enough of this life...

He calmed himself down. Opened his eyes again. This time looking up at the ceiling, in which, with the poor light, he could see the bulb. Off. Like wished his brain was.

But the memories went back again. And the nostalgia attacked. And the tears threatened to come out. And he was cold, so he had to hold himself. He wasn't there to hold him when he felt little and weak.

Well, hang on.

He hugged his pillow. Sniffed it. Held it closer. Made his best not to stain it with tears and drool and all the fluids he was letting out from his eyes, nose and mouth. He was genuinely sobbing without consolation.

But he wasn't lost. He didn't feel sad. He just felt... Incomplete. John promised him he wasn't going to be sad anymore. He couldn't be. He wasn't.

Don't let yourself go...

He breathed. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Looked at the ceiling again. Cracked a smile. Silent tears still streaming. But he wasn't sad. Because he couldn't be.

He brought back the nice memories. He fought back the dark images. He needed to stay strong. For both of them.

John was smiling, but the tears never stopped.

Cause everybody cries....

He looked at his right side. His heart skipped a beat.

Quickly sat on the bed. His feet touched the cold wood floor and made a little squeaky sound. He shushed himself.

Walked slowly. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't crying. He was okay. He promised he would be. He was starting to really feel it. He just forgot sometimes.

And everybody hurts....

When he made it to the cradle, he just couldn't help but lift him up and sweetly kiss his head.

He looked down at him. Their little shoot. The light of their lives. Now only John's life.

He outshined the morning sun. And ashamed the moon.

Philip will always be Alex's best gift to John's life. No matter what. He would love him twice as much. He had to be a mom AND a dad.

He would smile. Cause he promised, but he would love, cause he felt it.

Sometimes.