My favorite part him was his hands.

I loved it when our fingers got tangled together. His fingers wouldn’t stay still; they would wiggle, bend, squeeze, dance against my own. His hands were soft, unlike the other boys. His palms would softly press into mine, radiating warmth.

I didn’t need kisses nor grand confessions of love, all he had to do was entwine our fingers and I knew. All I needed was the gentle caress of his slender fingers on my boney ones.

My favorite memory of him was his laughter.

He didn’t laugh like the other boys, no. The other boys laughed like children; wild, carefree, and constant. He didn’t laugh often like the other boys. But when he did, it was like a rumble from his throat. A deep, quiet laughter that could only be heard if you really listened.

I could tell when he was about to laugh. His eyes would crinkle, and the corners of his lips would move up, just a little bit. He would look at me as if I were the world and let his slow, rumbly laugh echo through my heart.

My favorite moments with him was when we watched the stars.

He would never say anything, not unless it was important. But I could tell by the childlike wonder in his face, that his thoughts were loud and buzzing. He liked watching the stars, and I liked watching his face light up with joy. It was a side of him that no one else would ever be able to see.

I loved him so much.

Loved.

The worst thing about him was his silence. He kept too many secrets, he didn’t like letting others into his world. He shied away from company, he disliked being the center of attention. He would rather quietly suffer on his own.

The most painful memory of him was when he told me the truth.

Sometimes he was too honest, too honest for my weak heart. He was calm and steady when it came to reality, I was crazed and irrational. He didn’t have much time. But I wanted all the time in the world.

The thing I hate most was the hole he left in my life. My hands could no longer feel the touch they longed for. My ears could no longer hear the comforting chuckles. My nights were filled with darkness. I had given him my heart, and he had taken it with him to the stars.

I no longer saw the stars at night, because he had taken them, too. The stars were a part of him. He left me hollow.

I was empty with my love for him.

Love.