Everytime I meet him it's raining. It's always so rainy around here, it's the kind of weather he enjoys. Sometimes it's a little bit annoying, the humidity makes my skin feel sticky and my hair all frizzy, but in certain circumstances it is...comfortable, even romantic. Going out on a rainy day with him and sharing an umbrella together is probably my favourite thing ever, I love snuggling on his arm while we walk safe from the raindrops. Other days all I do is lay with him on his bed or couch, I sit by his side, sometimes I cuddle with him while he reads a book or watches something on his laptop because he wants to enjoy the day staying home.

He always acts like he doesn't want me near him, like he's fed up of my presence, but I know he enjoys it. He eventually gives up with his acting and accepts my hugs, embraces me and brings me closer, holding me delicately against his chest as if I were some kind of stuffed toy who keeps him safe during the night and haunts his nightmares away. I don't complain though, it feels nice having people think of me that way.

As I told you, he prefers to stay home. We don't go out together that often. He is naturally is a man who doesn't like the outdoors, also he comes home from work very tired, so whenever he wants me to go out with him makes me feel very special, even if we just go out to do groceries. If I only get the opportunity to hold his hand while we walk together I'm satisfied. It feels so warm by his side. It feels so nostalgic... I feel like I've walked arm in arm with him countless of times. I feel like my body was made to fit his, our hands lock perfectly with one another as if he was the missing puzzle piece my body needed to get completed, he feels like home, he's the place I always want to come back to. I wonder if he knows...

Sometimes when we fall silent during the night, I ask him if he ever feels familiar with that feeling. ''What do you mean?'' He asks me back. ''If I have done this with other people? Well of course, idiot.'' I frown, and I keep insisting, I ask him is he's familiar with my face, with my textures, with my temperature, my presence... Because I do. And he doesn't aswer, he's already used to that kind of questions coming from me, especially at such hours at night. I wish we could talk it out, it would help me a lot, and maybe it would help him too. He has a lot of sadness dwelling in his eyes, more sadness than a person could ever bear in only one life. Maybe is he struggling the same way as I do? But I neither know what I'm struggling against, anyways...