I sat there and watched him sleep after I covered him up with his blanket. The blanket that I hated, and had tried to fold up and store in a neat fashion countless times. I sat in his chair next to his couch and watched him rest while
I smoked a cigarette, and I realized that this was the
last night that things would ever be like this. He is moving out tomorrow, and tonight will be the last time that the apartment would look like it has since I really got to know both
him and my
now boyfriend. This would be the last night that both of my best friends,
my boys, would be living under the same roof. The last time that I would sit in this apartment with him, as a resident, and smoke while talking about inventions, thoeries, our friends, or any of the pointless things that we had been conversing about for the past year and a half. The last time that we would all come home from
the same bar to the same house. This marked the end of
breakfast night, of late night/early morning movies. The end of everything that I had loved for a long time now. And while I wish him the best on his new adventure, I couldn't help but feel sad about not having him right down the street from me.
But instead of trying to hold on to those feelings, I just let my memories of him and of the three of us flood my mind. And I came to the conclusion that I need to just enjoy the last night that we have together, and try to be happy for him. Even though I'll miss him horribly. So I finished my cigarette and gently woke him to say, "Wake me up when you want to get started moving tomorrow" and then I kissed him on the forehead and went to bed.