Is he an angel or just a boy? It was hard to tell with him. She breathes his air, thinks his thoughts, feels his touch, cries his tears, smiles his smile. As she held his gaze, she held her breath, and waited - the seconds passing - for him to rupture it. He always looked away. He either looked away or shut those beautiful brown eyes. My god, are they beautiful. It’s as if the gaze has become so powerful that they’ve both become terrified to stare for too long, afraid of everything being too gratifying to be true. Afraid of everything disappearing piece by piece. His presence has transformed into her biggest infatuation. He’s become an addict’s cocaine, a masochist’s pain, and a human’s oxygen. He’s become her incomparable addiction.

His eyelashes are perfect. She envied the way they made his eyes look. “Like a dogs eyes,” she’d say, “You have the prettiest eyes.” Whether they’re filled with exasperation or passion or rage, she always found them endearing. Enchanting, like him. He wasn’t her first, but she’s never been more certain that he’s her last, her only. Her always… her forever. Hers. Not once has she felt so much fear aligned with so much bliss, so much insecurity along with so much comfort. Not once has she ever felt so much hope with so many questions left unanswered. Never has she felt so much faith with such a long way to go. Is he an angel or just a boy? It was hard to tell with him.

She loved his smile. He had the kind of smile that lit up his entire, beautiful face. The dimple on his left cheek always drew her attention no matter where her mind was. His left, rosy cheek. Both cheeks are rosy, actually. He despises them. She always found herself subconsciously feeling the gentle texture of his cheeks. She’d place only one finger at first - one miniature, delicate finger - and slowly open up her frail hands as they skimmed the outline of his features. His cheeks, his nose, his eyes. She looked at him, his eyes closed from the embrace of her touch. She wonders when she’ll ever stop being so astonished and taken by him. Bewildered by every diminutive movement, every infinitesimal gesture. It’s as if everything he does makes her heart accelerate and twists her stomach into thousands of miniscule knots begging to never untangle.

He made her weak, in the good sort of way. The pain, the weakness, it actually makes one stronger. Ironic, isn’t it? That’s what he is. He’s her weakness, but all her strength. He’s her downfall as well as her backbone - her rock. It’s as if he has a certain power over her that no one else could ever attain. He’s capable of breaking her heart continuously, yet still completing her. Is he an angel or just a boy? It was hard to tell with him.

She rests her head on his bare chest as she closes her eyes and listens to his repetitive heartbeat. It’ s scary, listening to someone’s heart so closely. It could stop; it could end, just like that. She consciously moves her head away from his chest knowing her hair is caught in his eyes and guilty for being afraid of his heart stopping. He looked at her with the same love he had for the game. He loved football, even after his injury. He watched the game from the side with such passion, such desire; almost as if it was a craving. She was his game and he was her inspiration. Everyone can see the fire in her eyes, the way she lights up every time she’s attached to him or his name is mentioned. As her eyes pierce his beautiful eyes, he manages a slight smile as he skims her body with his delicate fingers, his welcoming hands. Chills run through her spine as his touch lingers, breathing in slowly yet forcefully as she takes in the moment. She uses her finger and starts tracing from his face, smoothly making her way down to his neck. Faintly proceeding to his arms then melodiously reaching his stomach. His body scorches, so warm - like always - complimenting her ice-cold skin. She’s memorized his every touch, every scent, every movement, every sound - his every breath. Her arms and legs abruptly grab him closer to her; she suddenly craves his heart on hers. Her head lies next to his as they stare eye to eye with their noses touching slightly; “Eskimo kisses,” he used to say. As she slowly inches closer, her eyes unexpectedly close, afraid to lose all that she’s been taking in. Her breathing grows heavier while resting her lips gently and softly onto his. His kisses were always so intense, so affectionate, so convincing. Every kiss held a reason; every word left unsaid and every word that couldn’t be said. The world stops spinning and everything else that exists becomes irrelevant. She drew away from his lips, still infatuated and intoxicated. As she gradually opened her eyes, which instantaneously begin to blur…he was gone.

Disappeared without a trace, leaving her with nothing but everything she’s ever taken in, every drop of memory shared and all that’s left unfinished. She grabbed her pillow and held on to it as tight as she could, pretending it was him, somewhat hoping that he would reappear. Tears streamed down her face as she started to imagine her life without him. Where is he now? Where do I go from here? She tugged the pillow tighter, shut her eyes and tried to remember through the pain. Her heart ached for his touch, just one last touch, one last smile. She told herself reluctantly that the tighter and longer her eyes were closed, the faster he would come back, the faster he’d re-appear. She fought her tears and lost the battle and sobbed into her pillow, wishing it was his chest, wishing she could hear his heart again. Snapshots and excerpts ran through her mind and projected on to her eyelids. Her tears stung more but she fought to keep her eyes closed. She promised herself, “He’ll be there, he’ll be there.”

She convinced herself it had been long enough, that he’d been sleeping next to her just waiting for her to finally open her eyes and embrace his presence just like before. She couldn’t wait to see him smile again. God, she missed that the most. Her eyes craved to be connected to his again, to be his game again. Her body began to tremble as the warmth of his body became more than just a desire but a necessity. She started to smile, anxious and impatient as she began to open her eyes. Instantly her smile disappeared and her body became permanently cold. Her pillow was still her pillow and the side of the bed next to her was still empty. She started to shudder; her tears pierced through her heart inevitably and uncontrollably. Where was he? In a second he was gone. It was hard to tell with him. Was he an angel or a boy? He was neither. He was a dream, he was her dream. And dreams disappear instantly…they can never be enough.