She was gone when he woke up, but somehow he expected that she would be. Benny had a tendency to take a step back when things got too serious, too intense…when someone gets too close.

Ryan stretched, yawned, and sat up in bed. Evaluating his surroundings, he realized what a long day he was in for; with no work and minimal hobbies to occupy him, he would likely spend the day cleaning and organizing his house. He sighed and padded softly into the kitchen.

Damn, I'm going stir crazy sitting around here all day. He was definitely going to need something to keep him busy if he was going to survive the next few days of solitude and boredom.

Intentionally taking his time and deliberately avoiding eye contact with any timing device, Ryan fixed himself a full and nutritious breakfast; it's amazing what nice meals I make when I have such an excess of time. He made oatmeal, pancakes, bacon and eggs, prepared fruit salad, and brewed a fresh pot of coffee. It was only after making such an excess of food that he realized he would never be able to consume it all in one sitting. He laughed at his foolishness, and nearly jumped in surprise at the sound of his own laughter bubbling out of him. I guess it's just been a while since I've been so relaxed and stress-free. And making way too much food in Ben's kitchen.

At the thought of Ben, he smiled. He just couldn't help it; everything about her seemed to fit him perfectly. Even when they were in the midst of a heated disagreement, he was struck by how her arguments so closely resembled what he would say in her position; every day he realized something new about her that made them—in his mind—even more compatible.

He collapsed into a kitchen chair and sighed. I wish I could have five minutes where I didn't think about her. Just a vacation from the intensity and turmoil. I'm sick of always thinking about her, always wondering what she's doing, and with whom, sick of wondering if she's thinking the same things about me.

He decided to take his mind off of the pressing romantic issue by digging into his breakfast and looking over the newspaper. He had made a significant dent in his meal by the time he realized that literally every article of interest to him in the paper had been removed. What the hell? He rifled through it multiple times, then saw a pile of newspaper stacked neatly on the counter. Upon closer inspection he realized that Benny had read the paper over her breakfast, removing the articles she read as she did so, resulting in two piles—the parts she had read, and the parts she didn't care to read.

Ryan felt that familiar twinge—even our taste in newspaper is the exact same. How can she not see it? The frustration—that someone he loved so dearly could be so blind to such an obvious compatibility—was finally too much for him, so he decided to take the edge off with a nice, long run. He quickly dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, but as he was leaving, something caught his eye: a bright yellow note stuck to his bedside table, reading,

"Ryan,

PLEASE don't forget to take your meds today. I'd hate to have to kill you.

Because you're a wicked-good cook.

Love,

Benny"

He read it over a few times, just to ingrain it on his memory. She said 'love'.

He ran seven miles that morning, smiling all the way.