He often thought about his past. How everything he had now could be nonexistent if things had gone even a little bit differently. It scared him to know how different their lives would have been if the sleeping, beautiful, stubborn girl sprawled across his chest switched dorms the first day of college when her stuck up mother had asked her to. He knew they would have never spared each other a glance. He would continue with his sad, endless cycle of parties, girls, and booze. She, on the other hand, would be cooped up in her dorm every night studying for tests and writing papers that are months away. He would still hate everything around him, and never would have tried to patch things up with his father. She would skype with her Ken-doll-like boyfriend and complain about the amount of parties that are thrown at college. He would continue to hate everything about the world, and she would remain the innocent girl who never knew why.
    “It’s ironic really. The man who hates the world is loved by it the most.” He still remembered that day. He had wanted nothing more than to push her away, go to the nearest bar, and drink his sorrows away. But the way she said those words to him pulled him out of the familiar darkness he had missed so much, and made him realize he didn’t deserve her. He knew this before, but as he looked around him, he realized how hurt she had been by him. She was no longer the innocent girl he met at Washington State University. She was the only person he had ever loved, and he destroyed her. He took away her future because he was too selfish to give up his. He blackmailed her into coming to his childhood home, and pushed her away because he was afraid she would meet his ghosts. His mother had shipped him off to America to get a fresh start, and he found that in the woman next to him. But because of his selfishness, she was tainted by his horrific past.
    On that trip, they both had taken away a part of each other. She had taken away part of hatred, and he had taken away her life. When she opened the door of her hotel room and discovered her suitcase with one plane ticket inside, she had lost all hope. She did not cry, she promised herself she would never shed another tear for a man who did not love her back, but she couldn’t help the feeling of sadness take over her when she realized he was not going back to America with her. She was wrong about one thing though, he did love her. He had never loved anyone but her. She didn’t understand but he was doing this for her. He wanted her to have her future back, her life back. He didn’t want to get in the way of what she had been dreaming about since she was a child. He took enough away from her, and the last thing was himself.
    He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even through the cloud in his mind, her face was all he saw. His mouth was dry, and he was in desperate need of a shower, but he was too high to do anything right. He had just come back from the doctors to get his hand looked at. He injured it when she showed up a few days ago. He was confused at first. He thought the drugs were a lot stronger than his “friends” said they were. But high or not, he wouldn’t just let the asshole next to her keep trying to make a move right in front of him. He knew she was livid, and he knew that pushing the boy to the ground did not help his case. He had dragged her to the hallway where they screamed at each other in a desperate attempt to get the other to see their views. In his mind, their relationship was going nowhere that would stop her from getting hurt, so his solution was to push her away along with the memories they had made in the past seven months.
    She left and moved on, he continued to get high and pretend he didn’t care. Neither of them wanted to think of one another, so they didn’t. It wasn’t until she returned to their apartment to retrieve her things was she reminded of him again. She found a journal full of his secrets, pictures of their first few months together, a letter addressed to her. The letter was her breaking point. She finally allowed herself to cry. Her love was in London, his home, and she was in hers. She fell asleep on their bed that night to distant, but comforting smell that she had missed so much. It smelled like him.
    The drugs would wear off and leave him with a hangover, so he took the drugs again to relieve his pain. He suffered for weeks back in his hometown before he finally came to his senses. The drugs weren’t used to help him physically, but to keep his mind off of his mess up. The only woman he ever loved, and was capable of loving him, was gone, and it was his fault.
    When he sobered up one night he booked a plane ticket without thinking. The stench of his body odor mixed with weed followed him everywhere. He hadn’t taken a shower in days, he hadn’t done anything in days besides drinking and using various drugs to cope with his loss. He had gotten stares at the airport and on the plane back to America, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t like her. Other people’s views didn’t matter to him, only hers did.
    He called her number several times during the taxi ride to their apartment, only to discover that her number had been disconnected. He didn’t know where to look for her. He called his stepbrother, assuming he would know of her whereabouts because of their close friendship. After the initial surprise of the call and the angry words his stepbrother directed towards him, he told him that he didn’t know where she was. He was clueless. If she hadn’t told her best friend where she was, noone else knows either.
    He didn’t bother to check for her in the apartment once he reached the building because he didn’t see her car. After hours of searching the town for her, he gave up for the night and finally went inside their old apartment.
    He let out a long sigh as he closed the door. The place was exactly as it was before they had left for England together. Everything was clean and in their designated place. She was a neat freak, and he didn’t realize just how much he missed her annoying habits until then.
    After scanning the apartment for any sign that she had been there, he started for  the bedroom. The walk from the living room couch to their room had never seemed so long. He was tired sad, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with the love of his life. He needed a shower, he knew she would be repulsed by his appearance if she saw him then, but he had determination to do anything but sleep.
    He pushed open the bedroom door and froze when he saw her sleeping in their bed, wearing his shirt. He couldn’t help the relief that washed over him. He panicked a little when he saw that she had found his journal and letter, but that panic disappeared when he realized he had nothing to hide from her anymore. He knew he had some explaining to do, and he would be ready for it in the morning. She would yell and scream and he wasn’t sure if they would be able to get through the fight this time. What he did know though, was that he would wait for it no matter what. Even if she never took him back, he would wait for the chance that she might come back to him some day, whether it be a week or a few years.
    He will always wait for her, and he will stay by her side for as long as she allowed him to. But for now, he would climb into bed with his love and enjoy his time with her while it lasts.