I can't sleep. 

I've been laying here, staring at my ceiling and smiling for hours now. I'd been waiting for that moment for a long time, and it finally happened. These butterflies are stealing my sleep, yet I don't seem to mind. I'm sleepless, yet I wouldn't have it any other way, if it makes me feel this way. I'd been in the dark for so long, then you came along. We ran into each other, and immediately I knew who you were. I could never forget those eyes, the ones I used to look into at three in the morning, when we both knew sleep wouldn't be invited anytime soon. 

We got coffee together, sitting in a booth in the corner, blocking out the world around us, deciding it wasn't nearly as important as this. I glanced at our hands, intertwined, resting on the table in front of me, and thought about all the times this had happened in years passed, how many people probably passed by us thinking we were something more. I looked back up, into those eyes, still shining, like they did before life stole you from me. I realize that this is something I've been wanting for such a long time, without even knowing it. 

We talk about what we've been doing, things that old friends usually do, and I can't help but feel sad when you say you have to leave. Yet that sadness is replaced as you grab my hand, pulling out a pen, and I watch as you write seven little numbers on my palm. You smile at me as you put the pen away, then open your mouth, as if you want to say something more, but quickly decide to stay quiet. You wrap your arms around me briefly, then I watch as you walk away, still smiling. Now I lay here, replaying the scene in my head. Remembering how our hands fit together, how your arms wrap perfectly around me, and  I acknowledge the feeling in my chest. 

I just hope I'm not too late.

A/N: This entire thing was inspired by the quote "Oh butterflies, how you steal my sleep each night." Ten points to your house if you can tell me where it's from. (I'm just very much hoping that someone actually does...)