Even if your hands are shaking, and your faith is broken.

"How long have we known each other Jenn? Come on, don't lie to yourself. But more importantly, don't lie to me!" His coin-slot eyes crinkled at the corners as he casually draped his arm across the top of my head. Reveling in the comforting weight of that sturdy and dependable arm that I'd known my whole life, I let myself lean into him until his arm dropped down to my shoulders.

***

I remember nestling in the nook of his arm on a friend's bed. I must have been venting about a petty boy situation, because I remember him teasing me about my lengthy and impressive list of embarrassing past crushes. I stopped mid-story to catch my breath and as I breathed in deeply, I remember smelling comfort. The smell of fluffy white towels and mismatched socks. The smell of clean laundry. The smell of home. I closed my eyes and snuggled closer, my story stopping all together. As he continued to tease me his arm pulled me closer and held me just a bit tighter; after spending our whole lives together he thought he could still protect me. Oh, I sighed, this is comfort.

***

"Are you seriously asking that question right now Jenn?" His angry eyes accusing me of a thousand things, his gravelly voice dripping with scorn. I looked down at the lined paper in front of me blinking furiously to prevent further humiliation. I picked up my pen and retraced the star I'd doodled in the left hand corner of my notes, probably pressing down harder than necessary. Refusing to open my mouth for the rest of the meeting, I sat there feeling disconsolate and reprimanded.

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose-- the room was starting to stifle me. I opened my eyes and looked up to see his eyes burning into me again. Those beautiful eyes that crinkled at the corners and disappeared completely in moments of laughter, replaced by a pair of hard unforgiving eyes that were foreign to me. My eyes, constantly betraying my inner emotional turmoil apologized: I'm sorry. You mean the world to me. I love you. I'm in love with you.

***

That same night I newly discovered the unconditional comfort in my childhood friend's arms, he became annoyed with me. Panicking, even more so due to the fact that I'd realized how vital he was to my existence, I pleaded for his forgiveness. Oppa. Oppa-ya. Bee-juh-suh? Me-ahn-hae. Nae-ga jahl-mot-hae-suh. Are you mad at me? I'm sorry. It's my fault.

I laid my head next to his on the floor facing his back, and waited for him to shift because I knew he wasn't asleep yet. I knew that eventually, he'd turn around and his arm would find it's way under my neck, and that that would mean he had forgiven me. I felt my eyelids getting heavier after each time I snapped them open. I couldn't fall asleep yet though, I had to make sure we were okay. That he wasn't mad anymore. That he was still going to be my unconditional comfort. My eyes closed after waiting for what felt like an eternity.

He turned to face me and as his arm slid under my head, I remember opening my eyes and looking up into a face that I'd known as "friend" my entire life. Gazing on that familiar face, silhouetted in the slivers of moonlight coming in through the window, I felt myself shiver. Suddenly, I noticed the defined curvature of his bicep that was currently my pillow and I felt the hairs on the nape of my neck stand. Unexpectedly, the smell of clean laundry was giving me goosebumps.
Throwing away all reason and logic, I leaned over and kissed him.
He kissed back.

***

Eventually, I lost count of how many times I apologized in the course of six months. Verbally, I'd apologize for a stupid mistake, something I'd failed to do, something I refused to do; all the while my eyes would apologize for changing a lifelong friendship.
For months, my eyes said,
I'm sorry.
I love you.
I'm in love with you.

I'm sorry I'm in love with you.

He either chose not to see it, or he saw it, and still continued to punish and torment me.

There's nothing I miss more than those gorgeously crinkled eyes, that infectious laughter, that comforting arm draped across the top of my head.

He once wryly said to me, "It's hard isn't it?". Just like he never realized that that phrase applied to the essence of life; I never realized just how hard it would be to live without the smell of comfort.