Disambiguation.

He said it started years ago, he pulled me closer as he talked about it and the words melted into the hairs on the back of my neck. I dared not speak or stir for fear that the moment would evaporate or crush under the weight of my disbelief. I danced around the eggshells and just listened to him talk, lost in the void of being between coming and going. His breath lingered heavily around my mouth, dark and sweet, and when he kissed me something stirred within my chest as if in sleep.

"I miss you already," said the text that came at 5:30 this morning. When we had parted two hours earlier he looked deep into me, down to the core, the three years of longing and the fear of long distance and the bliss of the past five days all hungrily melded together into a fragile and furious gaze that made my heart sink right down to the bottom. I wanted to give him everything. "I will be here when you get back," it was all I could offer standing there in the snow and the cold and the dark, and once said I wished I had instead let the silence carry the weight of that gaze. "You don’t know that for sure," he looked away, and the spell was broken.

How cruel a fate, to be at once in love and also heartbroken, with the same person.