Ethan and Jacob: Wish You Were Here
by SalientLane
Chapter 20
The still-packed cardboard boxes in my bedroom were like little skyscrapers, half-built and abandoned. I was lying on the bed, earbuds jammed tight, "A Pillow of Winds" playing. The soft guitar strums tried to soothe me, but all they did was twist the knife of missing Jacob deeper into my gut.
I wiped a tear away, angry at myself for crying. We'd been through everything together—first days of school, first scraped knees, and our first Pink Floyd record. That day in the used LP shop, we'd pooled our last dollars like we were investing in treasure. It wasn't just a record; it was an artifact of us, of everything we shared.
A breath later, the walls of my Chicago room melted away. I was in Jacob's bedroom, the familiar posters on his walls greeting me like old friends. His bed was our ship, and we were sailing a sea of memories. The summer breeze floated through the open window, carrying with it the scent of freedom and pine needles.
My flannel pajamas wrapped around me like a straitjacket, too warm and restricting. Fingers fumbling, I peeled off the shirt, feeling suddenly caged by its sleeves. Jacob stirred next to me, his blue eyes blinking open drowsily. When he saw me shirtless, a spark lit up behind those irises—a look I knew meant more than a thousand words.
"Hot?" he asked, his voice groggy but edged with that humor that always made me laugh.
"Boiling," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully.
He scooted closer, and I felt the heat from his skin. With a quick glance and a half-smile, he sat up and shrugged off his own shirt, mirroring my movements. Skin against skin, we came together, as natural as breathing.
"Better?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it filled the whole room.
"Much," I answered, though it wasn't the temperature I was talking about.
We embraced, and something electric passed between us. Our hands explored each other's backs, tracing paths of familiarity and comfort. As our lips met in a kiss that said everything we couldn't find words for, I knew this was where I belonged—wrapped in the warmth of my best friend, my soulmate, my Jacob.
Tears blurred the edges of the room, but Jacob's face was clear. I clutched his hand tighter, the words tumbling out of me. "I miss you so much."
"I know," he whispered back, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down my cheek.
"Why did we wait so long?" The question ached in my chest, heavy and regretful.
Jacob sighed, his breath warm against my skin. "We were scared, we didn't know what would happen. It was so intense." His voice cracked a little. "I was afraid if I did the wrong thing, I would lose you."
"Jacob, baby, nothing you could ever do would drive me away." My voice was firm, my resolve unshakable. I saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes too.
"Come home to me," he said, his hands framing my face as if he could keep me there with him through sheer willpower. "My heart is breaking. I need you."
"I need you, too. I love you." The words felt like a punch to my own heart. "This place is killing me. Not having you near me is killing me."
We didn't just hug; our arms became lifelines, holding on as if we'd drift apart in a vast ocean if we let go. We cried together, our tears mingling. The pain of the distance between us a constant ache.
The dream shifted, slipped. Suddenly, I was squeezing my pillow, not Jacob. The darkness of my new bedroom closed in around me. But I could still feel the ghost of his arms, the echo of his heartbeat against mine.
That same moment, 900 miles away, Québec City. Jacob, hugging his pillow tight, his breaths deep and even in sleep. Even separated by miles, our hearts ached in the same language. Our dreams intertwined, a silent conversation of longing and love. Our souls, withering on the vine without each other.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
