The cashier rang up my items, then passed me the bag with them inside. I exit the small store, taking a deep breath of the crisp, winter night, air. I'll need to grab my jacket, I mull, walking home. I'll be out long tonight, I might need a snack as well. I set the chocolate covered raisins I bought to the side, putting all my other groceries away. I pile a few items into a backpack, a camera and my snack for instance, and dress in my darkest jacket before going out again.

Oh, Julius, my sweet July in this weather. I approach his house, white with a red roof, from behind. I sneak onto the same tree as always, getting comfortable. I open my packet of raisins, and turn my camera on. My breath comes out in white puffs, but I know I'm well hidden against the black sky and black bark. My sweet July has such poor night vision. I place the camera against my eyes, zooming in.

The best part of this spot was the view of his bedroom from the window, and today I was practically squirming with joy due to my luck. Julius was covered in hair, head to toe, but he'd brushed some aside, revealing a baby blue eye. I was quick to take a photo, and some more of him in his bed, reading. I stared at the products in the glow of the camera, rubbing it with my thumb.

Julius, my sweet, sweet, July... How I wish you knew how dedicated I was to you. I planted a kiss onto one of the photos. I wish people wouldn't feed you lies, so we could be together. I'd tried calling him, sending him emails, but he was told to ignore me. I sigh, repositioning the camera. This'll have to do. I sat there for a long time until he fell asleep reading, adorably tucked in.

I put my things back into my bag, and climbed down the tree. Finally, I was able to go to the front. I grabbed the spare key hidden underneath a potted plant. Julius was forgetful, and kept the spare in case he lost his house keys. Very beneficial to me, I'll admit. I unlock the door, placing the spare key where it was before, then enter the house.

I stayed downstairs for a while, admiring the space. I observe the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, drinking in every insight to his daily life. It was clear he was having a hard time, dishes piled, laundry left in the washer, trash scattered about. I wanted to do his chores for him, but I was trying to not leave an imprint. I took out my camera, taking keepsakes before heading upstairs.

The stairwell was full of photos, of family, friends, and a child Julius, however I'd already taken pictures of them, so I moved on. The upstairs was small, only holding his office and bedroom. The office was much more well-kept, presentable for his colleagues. I traced his desk, his laptop, taking in every scent, every sound, feeling, even the taste of the air in the room. It was unbelievably tempting to look through his work, yet I didn't want to cause him unnecessary stress by messing something up. I took pictures of things that had changed since last week, then moved on.

His bedroom was just as messy as the downstairs, requiring me to tiptoe around things. I sat beside him, beside his resting body. I pushed his hair aside, to get another look at his eyes. My sweet July, my beautiful summer. I leaned down and placed a kiss upon his forehead. He grumbled a bit, but stayed still, and asleep. I got comfortable, reopening my snack. Your senses are so dull. I wish we could spend all our time together, but you have to pretend to be scared.

I recalled the letter I'd received that sparked these weekly visits. I'd torn the restraining order apart, bit by bit, until it was nothing but scraps. I formed my plan to visit him, studied his habits to figure out the way to get closer. Who tricked you? Who made you afraid of being with me? I ran my fingers through his tangled, curly hair, petting him. All the gifts, the notes, the clothes, the candies, were thrown aside. My messages and my presence when I walked with him were ignored.

I'm getting tired of waiting for us to be together, I'll have to be more proactive. I put my things away again, sliding my backpack off my shoulder. I laid on the bed, hugging Julius. I'll never let you go, I'll fight for us, I promise.

I cuddled him for hours, my face buried into his shoulder. I watched him breathe, felt his warmth, and took in his scent. His analog clock told me it was twelve, forcing me to get up. I stretched, grabbed my backpack, and planted another kiss on his head. I gripped his arm, silently promising I'd be here next week.

I was upset at first, of course, to leave. However, the closer I got to my home, the giddier I became. I'd turn on a little music, make several coffees, transfer the photos of his beautiful face and home onto my laptop, and print them out. Most would be sorted into scrapbooks or deleted because of blurriness, but my favorite ones would be pinned to the wall.

I was utterly ecstatic.