She sighs deeply into the night. She’s just read something truly amazing and she desperately wants to share it with him. Her ex-best friend, as he’d called himself once. She thinks of the hours-long debate they’d have. She imagines what his reactions would be. She thinks of every counterpoint he would haveto her point.
It was a beautiful night, as nights often are. It is always a beautiful night when she misses him. She thinks of their long battles about their OTPs, and who would finally bring peace-The Khaleesi or Tyrion; Jon Snow or Arya Stark. She misses those hilarious articles he shared and trying to make him read her favorite fanfiction. She misses, as much as their moments of heated debate, those times he’d fight with her-against friends who said a certain religion was pathetic, or why men were in all senses better than women. He fought alongside her, while soothing her at the same time.
She misses their inside jokes, and his suggestive smirks. She misses her carefree laughter when she was with him, and their little bickerings. She misses his assuring hugs, and their worrying about the future. And it was liberating to think and feel so strongly about him.
She goes back to the article and links it to her Facebook account in hopes that he’d see it. She hopes that if he did, he’d think of her too. For it’s times like these she misses him the most: the times she’s the happiest, the times she’s the most impressed, and the times when she needed him the least.