Relationship Imagines

Star Gazing (M)

I know we've been dating for six months. 

It's still scary. I still get nervous to talk to him even though he's seen every part of me. Every part of me I've grabbed, cursed at, hated. He's touched every lump, every mark, every scar, every dimple, and I'm still scared to tell him the three words I've known since I've met him. 

"What are you thinking about?" He asked me. We were laying on a blanket we thrifted three months ago. Our hands were intertwined and his thumb rubbed mine. I was wearing the hoodie I bought him four months ago. "Nothing," I said blatantly. 

We were laying on the ground next to his mom's car. He had the radio turned on and a slow jazz song played faintly in the background, almost like cars honking and drivers yelling at each other in my already trafficked brain. 

"What are you thinking about?" He said as more of a command than a question, his tone shifting to that of a worried one. 

"Us," I said. 

"Should I be worried?"

"No, of course not," I said and chuckled softly, my voice shaking as I created tens of ways to say it to him. Should I blurt it out? Say it on the way home? Whisper it? Yell it?

"I need to talk to you about something," He said and slowly started to sit up. "What about?" I asked looking up at him. 

"We've been dating for a while now, and I know... I know that you don't want me to say it. You don't have to say it back. But.. I can't take it anymore. Every time I look at you from across the classroom, every time I see you smiling at me from all the way across the hall, every time I get to hold you, it just keeps bouncing around in my head like the old DVD logo.."

I stayed quiet. I knew if I tried to say anything my voice would shake. 

Then.. he said it. I couldn't hear it. It felt like I'd been engulfed by a wave. A wave of every emotion. 

I knew that if I said it back, if I admitted my greatest weakness, he could shatter my heart as quickly as he mended it. At the snap of his rosy fingertips, at the kiss of his lips. 

We sat in silence for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. I pulled him back down to lay next to me. I laid my head on his arm. "I can see the milky way," I said. I could feel him smiling though I couldn't see him. 

"I.." I started, but I couldn't finish. "You don't have to say it, especially if you don't mean it." He said. 

"It's Been a Long, Long Time" started to play. I stood up and stretched out my hand, motioning for him to stand up with me. "Care for a dance?" He asked me. 

As we started to dance I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. I'll admit, he makes me nervous. No one makes me nervous. He makes me cry, laugh, smile, angry. He's the reason that I ate this morning, the reason I drank a glass of water, the reason I brushed my teeth. 

I loved the way he held me. The way his fingertips carefully traced my skin. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. I wanted to run away, to be honest. Run away and cry and hide in a bush like a bunny hiding from a wolf. Except he wasn't a wolf, and I wasn't a bunny. We were simply two souls, foolishly in love. 

I stopped swaying. So did he. He asked, "You okay?" That did it. He looked at me in a way no one's ever looked at me before. I of course had doubts in my mind. Doubts if he was really mine, all mine. Every single tear, every scar, every hair, every look, every laugh, every smile. Was it really all mine?

I knew in this moment. I knew... it was.

 He was. 

He was all mine. 

"I don't love you," I said. His eyes stayed the same, looking at me with an intense look that I couldn't place an emotion with. 

"I... I..." This was it, I didn't need to blurt it out. I didn't need to yell it, nor whisper it. I didn't need to play a song or write it in frosting on a cake. I didn't need to spell it out on a beaded bracelet, I didn't need to trace it with my finger into his hand. 

"I mean, I do... I do, I do, I love the way you look at me and the way you say my name. I love the way you stick your tongue out when you're focused, the way you learn my favorite songs on guitar for me, the way you buy books for me, the way you know the specific way I like my coffee's-"

"Iced caramel with soy and extra espresso shot," he interrupted. "Yeah," I smiled and giggled. 

"There's not one specific thing I love about you, and I don't love you as a whole. I love the way you stutter when you read, the rasp in your voice when you sing, the way you hold my hand when driving, the way you look at me from across the room in class. The way you can tell me something with just one look. There isn't just one thing to love about you, there's everything to love about you. Even the things that really piss me off are a blessing, because I get to remember why all the anger and frustration you cause is worth it. So that I can hear you sing one more time, hear you stutter one more time, have you hold me one more time... but most importantly, have you look at me, the way you're looking at me right now... one... more... time."