One More Cup | D.M

17, | New Years Plans

The Christmas of 2003 was the best holiday I ever experienced. Looking back I wished I cherished it more — if I could go back in time I'd choose to continuously live in that moment.

We spent Christmas at Valencia's house and it was just the two of us. Her sister stayed at their mother's house. She had woken me up early, peppering my face with soft kisses.

I remember opening my eyes to see her hovering over me with a smile, her green eyes seemed to have a sparkle to them — something I'll never be able to explain, it's more of a 'you have to be there to experience it' kind of thing.

Her eyes are by far the prettiest I have ever seen, I tend to lose myself in them. She and I both know it.

Her smile could light up a fucking room. When she's happy I seem to be too.

Her hands are small and always warm, it's cute how small they are compared to mine. I feel protective when I'm holding it.

I am crazy about this woman and I love every tiny, minuscule, little thing about her.

"I love you." I blurted out. I feel like I've known for so long that she is the love of my life. I know so many people who told me that young love isn't real but if it wasn't, why does it feel so fucking good?

I tucked a strand of hair behind her ears that was covering her heart-shaped face. "I love you too, Draco.... and I don't think I'll ever stop."

"I hope you never do."

Does that still count now, Valencia? Do you still somehow love me after all this time?

The day was perfect, from the hot chocolate she made me (which was far too sweet and she laughed knowing I wouldn't enjoy it but I still drank it to try and prove her wrong), to opening up our gifts from under the tree — a fireplace channel on the telly was playing in the background.

Valencia's cheeks were heating up as I opened up her gifts from her.

"It's not much and I'm sorry... I wish I could buy you the entire mall but I can't—"

I quickly shut her up with a kiss. "You could have gotten me a rubbish bag and I still would have loved it just because it's from you... who, you know, I am utterly obsessed with."

"I fell in love with you so quickly.... I've never felt so safe around anyone the way I do with you — A-and you're the best thing that's ever happened to me so I need you to stay... please."

Her voice cracked at the end as if she needed to convince me to stay. As if I was debating or needed a reason — a push — to continue loving her. I was beginning to think she had grown mad but then again she loved me so she must be.

How can I explain how I feel when I could barely form it into words? To admit that I love her so much that I probably sound like an obsessed, obviously mentally ill, creep.

To tell her that being in love is nothing like how I imagined it. I was used to feeling numb, to have my days blending together meaninglessly — I didn't have a reason at all to be here. But for some reason I am.

I met her and this tiny match ignited inside me, and now that flame is dancing, waltzing, as tall as the fucking great ben, it's out of control now. I can't control it. But I don't think I want to. I like it so much better like this.

I am in love with you Valencia. Not the idea of you, or some cliche I formed in my head. It's not about your hair, or the slope of your nose, or even your smile. What I love is you — your essence, the way you think and act on emotions, your soul.

I am falling.

Plummeting actually.

And then I fell.