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"Promise me you'll call every day."
"I'll call every day." His voice is
soft and his eyes are averted, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the horizon. She watches him for a moment, judging
the blue in his eyes and the air in his voice and hopes that he will keep the promise, but knows that he won't. He won't because
he never does. Sometimes, she thinks that he can't. Other times, she is sure that he doesn't want to.
"I'm really going
to miss you this time."
He smiles down at her, and the distant look from moments before disappears completely. "You
always miss me."
She laughs softly. Lightly, because laughing is easier than crying in the wee hours of the morning
when she knows--KNOWS--that he won't be there to comfort her.
"This time will be worse."
He nudges her with
his nose. "Who says? Where's that optimistic spirit that I love so much?"
She sighs, smirking. "I wrapped it up in
a little blue bow and left it on your pillow. It's keeping the bunk nice and fresh for you, even as we speak."
He laughs,
touches her chin with the pad of his index finger lovingly. "Thanks for that. I bet it looks better on you, though. Everything
looks better on you."
She arches an eyebrow. "I thought we agreed last night that everything looked better off me?"
He
laughs again, thankful for her sense of humor in the last moments of together. "Good point."
She shares a smile with
him and gives him a light shove. "It's time for you to go."
He shakes his head. "Not yet."
"Why not?"
He
sighs. "Because I haven't given you that deep, passionate kiss that says 'I'll miss you too'."
"Oh, that..."
She
is silenced by his lips on hers, soft, sweet and endearing as midnight falls around them.
"I love you." The words are
nothing more than a whisper, caught in her teeth almost before they escape him.
"I love you too." Her words are a sigh.
"Be safe."
"Always am." He wags a finger. "Keep the doors locked."
"Always do." She cocks her head. "Stay healthy."
"I'll
try." He smiles. "Stay away from naughty boys."
"I thought you were a naughty boy?"
"Only for you," he tells
her, and means it. Means it now, because he knows he may not in the coming months.
"Sing sweet."
"I will," he
agrees. "Sleep sweet."
"Only once you say goodnight."
He knows the routine well, regardless of how much he doesn't
enjoy these last words. "Goodnight, then, Sam. I'm off."
"'Night, Nick." She plants one last kiss on his lips. "Sweet
dreams."
She leaves then, and he knows that, for this night, at least, he will dream of her.
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