This is my first story here on LPF, so don't be too hard with your criticism but advises and other kinds of help are welcome.

Thanks to my friend Anne for beta-reading!

I don't own anything, only half of the idea, the other half and the song belong to The Script.

I don't really like the ending but well... have fun with reading and please review. :)

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I'm waiting for you

Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me,

And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I can be,

Thinking maybe you'd come back here to the place that we'd meet,

and you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street.

Lazily, you lie down on your white couch, in the background the new CD you just bought. You take a nap, or two, you go into the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee, sitting down at the table in the middle of the room. It's silent, maybe even too silent, but you enjoy yourself as much as possible, as much as life is enjoyable alone.

But it doesn't catch you, the loneliness. You are not going to be its slave, you want and will survive, someday everything will be okay again. So you turn the music a bit louder, lie back down on the couch and take another nap, this time flying away on a dream cloud, letting the thought of him embrace you. Tightly enough to let you fall into a deep slumber and you awake to your telephone ringing. It takes you a second to recognize the room you're in as your living-room, but as soon as you reach the phone, the ringing has stopped.

A little bit annoyed, you sit down on the couch, leaning against its back, closing your eyes tightly. You tried so hard to get rid of him physically and now he's haunting you in your dreams, seems like you had been wrong, seems like you had lost the battle.

The next time you enter the kitchen, you choose an espresso, as you don't want to fall asleep again. How naïve from you, to think staying awake would protect you from him. Though you push the thought of him away, concentrating on the small cup in your hands, trying to think of something that was able to distract you.

Reading a book was an option, but as soon as you open up the book, your eyes capture a word on the very first page, reminding you of the old times, the good times, the times with him. You let out a deep sigh, closing the book and putting it back.

Desperation gets the upper-hand of your feelings, and suddenly, you want him back. So you wouldn't have to go through all this. With him, there was someone to care about, there was something to hold onto. That sounds good to you, something to hold onto, for your dear life. He would save you from this sinking ship. He would if he was there. But he wasn't.

Another try to distract you. You turn on the TV, zapping from channel to channel. Either it's a talk show, letting people fight and discuss their broken relationships, or any other shows about people leading the perfect life, the one you left behind.

You are about to give up on TV when you find a report on a guy, “who can't be moved”. At first, you shake your head, laughing a little since in your opinion it wasn't possible. But then, then you see him. The man who can't be moved. Between trash cans and other garbage, half-lying on a sleeping-bag, there he is, holding up a cardboard and photo, and as you look closely enough, you are able to recognize the person on the photo. Your hand raises to your mouth, pressing it against your lips, to hinder yourself from screaming. And the very next moment, you're out of the door.

Running and running, you know exactly where to find him, it's your heart guiding you to the one you love. Your heart beats against your chest, you have to fight against your body that needs a break from all the running, but you can't stop. You have to find him, you need him back in your life, and just a few meters away from him, you can already see him. You whisper to yourself, “I loved you all the time, Chester.”

And by the time you reach him, your legs are giving up on you. But the wide smile, the tears in his eyes, him hugging you as tightly back, it was all worth it. You tell him over and over again how much you missed him all the time, how much you're sorry, how much you love him.

“I know, Mike.”

End.