I made you coffee in the morning just how you like it — a little cream and a packet of sugar. I set it on the table next to you before you even had the chance to ask for it.
I let you use my lap as a pillow when you had nowhere else to rest your head. I played with your hair and listened to the sounds of your breaths.
I made excuses to stay at your house a little longer, always finding some reason I couldn’t leave just yet. “Have you seen my book? Do you know where my keys are? I just need a glass of water first.”
I stayed awake till 5 a.m. when my eyelids were almost too heavy to keep open just so I could hear your voice. Even when your words stopped making sense to me, I held onto every one.
I washed your dishes when you were asleep so you wouldn’t have to wake up and do the work. I never told you because I didn’t want you thinking I did it for the praise.
I texted you every day. I sent you funny pictures. I told you every time something happened that reminded me of you, which was a lot, because everything reminded me of you.
I asked about your friends, your family, your goals, your dreams. I kept an encyclopedia of your life in my head but pretended to forget things so you wouldn’t feel weird about it.
I listened to you favorite songs and watched your favorite movies. Even when I didn’t like them, I said I did. And it wasn’t completely a lie — I liked anything that reminded me of you.
I encouraged you to do what you wanted, even when it hurt me. Especially when it hurt me. I never wanted anything to hold you back. I was always afraid I would.
I let you into my life in ways I never let anyone else. I told you things I don’t tell other people. I trusted you before you even gave me a reason to.
But I never said the words.