Work Text:
He misses him.
He misses everything about him. Not just the sex, like everyone assumes. But everything. He misses the way his eyes would light up in joy, the way his smile was blinding, the way his laughter was contagious. He misses the way his arms felt wrapped around him, the way his kisses always started off so soft and hesitant, the way they would cuddle together on the couch.
They don’t do any of that anymore.
He misses those beautiful eyes. Such a deep, rich shade of brown. So full of emotion and life whenever he speaks. They used to be so full of love and happiness whenever they would land on him. He misses looking into those eyes and seeing the intense focus he only ever dedicated to his lover’s rambles.
He misses the sound of his voice. The loudness of it when the other gets over excited. The softness of it when they would whisper sweet nothings to each other. The melody of it whenever he would hum or sing to himself as he worked. The way it would sound when they were in bed together; oh how he misses those filthy words coming out of his mouth.
But most of all, he misses his lover’s touch.
God, he misses the other’s touch so much. He misses gentle fingers playing with his hair while he laid his head on the other’s chest. He misses a strong arm wrapped around him, pulling him hip to hip with the other during conversations at parties. He misses a hand on the small of his back as the other tries to pass him without bothering him. He misses when their fingers would brush-and then linger-as they hand each other tools in the lab. He misses the other’s arm pressed against his own as they rode the elevator together.
He misses those lips-chapped, always chapped-pressing against his forehead softly when he was leaving a room. He misses them against his cheek whenever he said hello. He misses them against his neck whenever they were cuddling or hugging.
It startles him deeply, even now, to think about how much he misses his lover’s touch. His innocent touches, specifically. Not that he doesn’t miss his not-so-innocent touches either, but he knew he would miss that.
But now he feels like something too big to name is missing from his life at all times. His body absolutely aches with the need to be hugged. He aches with the need for fingers to brush hair out of his eyes, to graze his cheek lightly. He aches with the need to hold his lover’s hand, to brush the back of their knuckles together in solidarity as they listen to a very boring meeting.
He aches with the need to feel human contact again; he hasn’t let anyone touch him at all since the break up. If someone touches him accidentally, he flinches violently and moves away from them. He doesn’t know why; he craves it, he needs it, but he can’t accept it. Not if it isn’t from him. The only person he wants, needs, loves.
And he does, still love him. And he loves no one else. Only him. He would give anything, anything just to feel those still familiar arms around him again. Despite how long it’s been since he was held, he just knows in his soul that being held again would fix everything. It would fix the shaking, the feeling of falling apart at the seams, fix the gaping hole in his chest.
But he can’t accept it from anyone else. He just can’t. Even though his lover doesn’t want him anymore, will never hold him or touch him again. He doesn’t want anyone else. He doesn’t want someone else to touch him.
So here he will stay, desperate for touch and refusing to accept it. Not unless it’s from the love of his life; who loves him no more.