Tell me how am I supposed to live without you?

I didn't have to wait until Wednesday. It came sooner, Monday. I was out with a friend and all of her work friends, pretty much strangers, but after a few trebles everyone is family. I was enjoying myself, dreamily drunk and laughing. I was on my gay friends back, he is so tall and my dress was short. I was giggling trying to climb aboard his 6 foot 4 frame. My dress was rolled right up, showing my bare arse to the world, I was shouting telling the girls to pull it down, laughing hard about something entirely different. I could hear boys behind me laughing and cheering at my behind and my struggle. Then I heard him "It's fucking Courtney!". I'd know that voice anywhere. That broad cockney accent amongst the strong Geordie that is my own and the locals. "Fuck my life, it's him" I whispered to Craig, still aboard, not having to turn around. I felt his hands on me, pulling me down and my dress into a more acceptable position. I can't help it, I feel my face break into the smile that I know only comes when I'm with him. Rachel, one of my best girl friends who was there from the start of this mess, turns to her friends, "Here we go..." she says not so quietly. My gay friend stands with his mouth open "Who is that?!". I smile, smug again. It's cold, he pulls me into him, lifts me up, kisses my head, we chat for a while, we're going to different clubs but he asks me if I'll stay the night, "You, me and Michael Bolton, what more could you want?" It's a good question. Nothing.. I say I'll call him later, he leaves, and my night is made. Off 3 minutes worth of conversation. I think that it was the surprise, the situation. Other than the first night that we ever spoke I have not been surprised to see him, it has always been expected, I liked that at least that part was on my terms.
I go to the biggest gay club in the city. We are ridiculously drunk, dancing to Abba, loving life. I know I'm going to see him, that is the best part. It gets to about 2:30 and I call him, tell him I'll be half an hour, that I'm going for food and I'll jump into a cab...so I do. The taxi driver looks at me at some point during the journey..."It isn't often you see a smile like that at this time, he must be special" I'm looking out of the window, unaware that my face isn't set in its regular straight manner, his comment takes me aback a bit.
He meets me at the shop outside of his house, kisses me straight away, we are laughing about something. I end up lieing on the grass, him beside me and my stomach hurts from laughing, I can't put my finger on what we were laughing at now, but he is winding me up about the states that I get in and how he doesn't know how he can handle me. I wonder how I am handling this. Being so worryingly happy off absolutely nothing. We go up to his room, he gets a bottle of wine even though we have drank way too much. I can remember sitting there, in his own bedroom, praying that he'll come back for me. So ridiculous when I think about it, but even though it is the second time I have been there in only a couple of weeks I can not believe how much I like him. He puts Michael Bolton on as promised, our favourite. We start talking, about everything. My fucked up year, my break-up, his break-up, his move, my grand parents. He looks at me during the latter, as I pour about my grandmother, a subject I haven't spoke about to anyone other than my best friend. "I hope that is me one day." I look at him shocked, I'm talking about my grandma on her deathbed after only being ill for 6 weeks. "Why on earth?" I question.
"She'd just lost the love of her life. When I get married I hope I go that soon after my love dies, some people aren't meant to live without each other. That is the love I want." I remember the look he gives me as he says this. He looks at me, I look at him. We know we could have that and it is ludicrous. I am falling in love with this kid and I am suddenly terrified. We start talking about my brother, but not like normal, not about how we shouldn't be here but more dismissive. "We're only having a kiss and cuddle" he says. "You know that's not all we're doing" I say, and he gives me the look, its fierce and sad. But I have told him about my move to Manchester, he tells me he goes regularly to visit friends, it doesn't make a difference of course. I know I'll have to leave this behind.
He drops the bomb then. He is going home to London on Saturday...for a month. He is back for three weeks, then away again for the summer. By the time he gets back, I'll be gone.
I got the night that I wanted, I had things to ask. I needed to know if he feels the same. I know he does. We are disgustingly perfect for each other. We laugh far too hard, tell each other far too much. We haven't slept together, I'm terrified to, I think he prefers it that way as well, even though we lie one step away from it, craving each other. We know it's going to make it messier than it already is, if that is even possible. So he holds me, right the way through Rod Stewart's greatest hits. I leave in the morning and tell him I'll see him on Wednesday, knowing that I'm not going to. That I need to cut my ties now before my heart splits clean in two by spending an extra minute with him. I hold onto him a second longer than usual when I leave, tell him I'll miss him. Give him a smile. "That smile, trouble." he says sadly. I adore when he calls me Trouble. He kisses the side of my mouth and I leave. I think I can 100% say that I am falling for him, the one thing I said I would never do. But I think he is breaking his rules as well. We haven't stuck to a single rule since the day we met, so I am not gonna vow that I'll not fall completely in love with him, out of absolute terror that I'll break that one too.