It was well past 2am, and we were delightfully drunk deep within the darkness of the night struggling to open the front door of the building. Once inside, I followed you up the only flight of stairs to our apartment. I say “our” because you had just given me my own set of keys earlier that day.

I was simultaneously shocked and overwhelmingly happy.

You did it so… simple. That’s how you always were with the big moments in our relationship, leaving the grandiose gestures of love to me. We had woken up that morning, both in a rush to get to class. I had more time than you, so I rummaged through your closet and smirked, while grabbing your baby pink towel. It was funny; I knew how much it’d annoy you to see me use your favorite towel. I set the water temperature to my liking, and jumped into your shower. Your vanilla scented shampoo clinged to the dampness of my hair, my fingers moving furiously against my scalp. I was going to be late, so I took my time. Why was I always late?

I heard you enter the restroom, the sound of toothbrush bristles against teeth.

Before I’d forget, I peaked my head behind the shower curtain to look at her, “Hey babe, leave your keys for me so I can lock up before I go to class and I’ll leave them at you parent’s house so you can pick them up after you finish work.”

Her mom lived a block down the street, it was a routine we did often, and afforded me the comfort of many a mornings’ homemade breakfast.

She gargled some water in her throat before answering me, steadily keeping her eyes on her reflection in the mirror hoisted above the sink, “I’m in a hurry my love, I left your keys on my bed…” In the small silence following, she sneaked a playful glance at me and more words fumbled rapidly from her mouth, “My mom still expects you for breakfast. See you tonight.” Before I could register her words, she closed the bathroom door.

I finished my shower, wrapping the towel around my body, and reopening the momentarily closed door, “Babe?” There was no answer, she had left already.

The tips of my fingers ran through the front of my hair, pushing my bangs away from my face. I walked into her room and scanned the sheets on her bed. Right on the edge sat a purle butterfly keychain, attached were four keys; the two to her apartment, and the two to mine. “Ahhh” I breathed, realization finally setting in — my own set. I sat beside the keys and looked at them without touching. I stared at them for a long while, before the sound of my phone pulled me out of my confused trance.

This specific notification alert meant a text message. I pressed the home button on my iphone to open it.

You feel like home.

It buzzed again.

I love you so much, can’t wait to wake up to your eyes all the time now.

Infectiously, the entirety of my body felt so light and clean. I smiled like a fool at my phone and responded carefully, craftily:

You assume this means I’m staying. I just thought it meant I didn’t have to borrow your keys anymore.


I imagined what she’d look like upon reading this. She’d have rolled her eyes, a smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. Her response came quickly, effectively:

It means I finally decided to stop seeing all my other boyfriends.


“Bitch,” I said out loud automatically… with the utmost affection, of course.

Thank god, I’m a girl then. I guess I made the cut, yeah?


I held my phone in my hand, waiting her text. I grinned stupidly at the screen, all initial hesitation and confusion disappearing from my mind. I looked around the room, letting it sink in. She had decorated one wall with my graffiti photography, I beamed proudly. The other wall the bed fell against, was filled with pictures of friends, family, and us in white frames, captured moments of happiness… another buzz.

My favourite girl. 🙂


So… is that a yes then?


My fingers punched the keyboard, then the send button.



Your hand was on the knob, ready to push our door open, but I stopped you. I felt you turn around to face me, and immediately both of my hands found your face in the dark and I pulled you into my kiss. I felt your hands on my waist, the intimacy between our lips becoming increasingly fervent. You pulled me against you forcefully, which caused you to take a few clumsy steps backwards, enclosing the space between your back and the door; every part of our bodies collided, touching.

At the sound of another door opening, I jumped back away from you instinctively.

Your aunt lived right beside you, and the outline of her furious figure in her doorway was enough to make us both kneel over in laugher, “What are you two doing making so much noise out here at this time of night, go inside and sleep!”

You calmed her down in your native tongue, your words slurring from the alcohol, while I grabbed my keys and opened the door for us. Once inside, you wrapped your arms around my neck, my hands finding the small of your back and pressing you to me.

We stumbled stupidly in love across the livingroom and into our bedroom.

You took your make-up and heels off and got ready for sleep, while I changed the sheets to the bed. Once done, I sat on top the fresh linen in pajamas, and watched you perform your nightly routine. Finally you switched the lights off and lay beside me. We nestled under the covers together, you face pressed up delicately against my neck, your body in my arms. You had this way of making me feel safe.

I was wide-awake; tracing patterns against your bare back, the effect of liquor finally wearing off. But I could hear your breath, slowing and becoming deeper. You’d be asleep soon, and then I’d be able to fall asleep after.

Suddenly and without warning, you made a small movement, pulling the sheets over our head and trapping us beneath. I laughed, and playfully tried pulling them back, “What are you doing?”

You shushed me like a child and told me to stay still. I obliged curiously; you sucked in great amounts of air, the warmth of your slow exhaling breath against my neck made me hot, but I didn’t shift away for comfort. On the contrary, I wanted to stay like this for a long time, in our bed, in our apartment… in our home.

Before you finally succumbed to slumber, with great effort, you whispered in your sleepy voice against my skin, “I love the smell of clean sheets. It reminds me of you.”


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