Impossible reality

"There is nothing I wouldn't do for you," I said as I laid in bed, with two pillows under my head, and I hoped he understood, understood what I said and meant, and how much he meant to me. 

I loved how he smelt, the way he always smelt like detergent, clean, fresh. His room smelt like him too, and I could spend days in there with him. I loved the small secrets he tells me, like how he has to tuck his pants legs into his socks before he goes to sleep, and keep the bigger ones safe for him. I loved his hands so large and solid, I would hold them forever. I loved how he would smile and laugh at stupid things, and random jokes, how little things made him so happy. He was enough and more for me. I loved spending time with him and just be within his immediate company.