Story: Home || Louis W. Tomlinson

I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, hoping that he finally comes home tonight. Hoping that he finally finds our little place back and returns to our safe haven in this big, big world.
But he probably won't, because this isn't the first night this happens.
I go to bed every night, hoping he'll come back home later and that I wake up with his arms around my waist.
That he's right next to me and that I can feel his breath in my neck.
That everything returns to how it was.

I close my eyes and try to imagine laying next to him.
But it's not the same.
He is everywhere but near me and nothing feels the same without him.
I miss him.