more than i can hold in my heart.

photograph

If I wished myself a superpower, I would make this moment last for hours.

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There was something magnetic about her.

Ben didn’t know what it was, but maybe it was the way her hair framed her face perfectly, or maybe it was her eyes, that held so much shade it couldn’t be just called ‘brown,’ or maybe it was her adorable, crooked nose that scrunched up when she was confused or mad. Maybe it was her voice, which he swears changes at different times; softer when she was with Tuck, aggravated and held back with hints of old affection when speaking with Tucker, strong, and level-headed at work, the little cracks when she’s angry or excited, of course, his favorite: calm, soft, affectionate when they talk, and last but certainly not least, how harmonious and raspy her voice gets when they made love.

Right now, he really can’t tell what it is. Miranda was in bed with him, and she was reading a novel he’d given her for Christmas. She wore his maroon hoodie, and it was big enough to drown her, but she’d told him she loved it, so he let her. Her hair was in disarray, but she looked good, really good.

She was so engrossed in her book, so she still hasn’t noticed him gaping at her, and he was grateful for that.

Ben continued to observe her face. Maybe it was that freckle just below her right eye? Or maybe how soft her hands were. He loved her skin so much. She lotioned every night, and she smelled like a baby.

The way she was sitting was elegant, and so domestic at the same time. Her legs were tucked under her body, and her curves were so visible. He found himself wanting to touch her, but if he did, she’d noticed how openly he was gawking at her.

It didn’t help that the light was dim, and her face was illuminated by the small lamp beside their bed. She looked like an enormous painting, her flaws bare, and those were what made her shine more.

Miranda smiled softly at her book, and his gut tugged at him. He wanted to capture this moment. Every part of her body, every blemish, every freckle, every scar, every quirk, he loved. He needed to burn this image in his brain, and even that wouldn’t be enough.

Everywhere he looked, there’s just not enough, he couldn’t get enough. Her hand reached to flip a page, and his gaze settled on her thighs, where the book was propped up. He adored her thighs. They were thick, and plump, and softer than any pillow in the world. He loved the way it felt in his hands, as if it was smooth water spilling from his hands, and when he went down on her, it surrounded his head in a strong and comfortable embrace.

Truthfully, if he had the time, he’d go about all day, screaming about how he loved every inch of this woman. He’d make a list about her flaws, and explain how they weren’t flaws, rather an implication that she was alive, and real, and most importantly, his.

Ben itched to grab a camera, a pencil, anything, to gain a remembrance for this moment, because his pessimist side was insisting it wouldn’t last long. But, oh, how he wished this moment would last for… hours, days, even.

He hoped his poor, poor heart lasted a lifetime with Miranda Bailey, because in this second, this one, right here, he’s sure he would collapse. His heart beat painfully against his chest, and if he died right now, he’d have zero problems, because he would’ve died looking at this masterpiece.

He found himself thanking God as Miranda laughed, bringing him out of his trance. He was ensnared by her, and he didn’t want to get away.

Before he knew it, he grabbed the old camera from his drawer, and he held it up, making sure she didn’t notice. He looked through, and she was so stunning, he had to pause breathing. “I love you,” he declared, the camera poised to catch the gorgeous smile that went on her lips.

Ben clicked away, and the polaroid film made its way out of the small machine. Miranda blinked, and looked up at him, her nose scrunched up. A smile found its way to his lips. “Ben!” She tried to sound irritated but the glint in her eyes and the smile on her lips gave her away. He pulled the film out and shook it, waiting for the ink to dry. “What was that for?”

Ben shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t go away.”

She frowned, as she tried to reach for the photo in his hand. He put it high up, so she wouldn’t take it. “And why is that, Dr. Warren?”

He paused to gather his words as the ink bled into the picture, showing how beautiful she is. He teared up. “I just… I’m so lucky to have you, my love. And I didn’t want to forget how beautiful you were, are.”

Miranda blushed. “I-I…” she stammered. “I love you.” He knew she had more to say, but he leaned in quickly, effectively shutting her up with his lips.

“I know,” he grinned and she rolled her eyes. He glanced down at the polaroid. He wanted to go back to that moment repeatedly, to openly admire his wife without her noticing. But this photo would be enough, until another opportunity like that appeared.

She took the small thing from his hands, and she grimaced. “Oh my God, I look like a mess.”

Ben scoffed. “Don’t talk about my woman like that.”

“Well, it’s true,” she pouted.

“What’s true?”

“I look positively hideous.”

He pursed his lips, and took the photo from her, cuddling her side. “You? No chance.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whipped,” she murmured under her breath.

He closed his eyes and smiled.

Oh, Lord, please let this last forever.

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listen to the song so u can rlly feel it <333