فيزا
In the end, I couldn't live up to my delusion... I mean, resolution, in the way that I had actual plans to make Sean laugh, and I would've even known what to say to effectively crack him up to no end... but then his eyes occurred, then he kissed the corner of my lips, again, and I naturally become the closest to speechless as it gets. And I kinda hate myself for not having stayed true to my intentions, yet at the same time I can't blame myself for that at all - because how many times in one's life can one possibly meet the person they love all over again, after a whole shitstorm, and get the vibe that the love is still there, healthy, intact, and going both sides? How many times in one's life can one possibly just look in the eyes of the person they love after weeks of not doing that, for whatever reason, and get the vibe that staying apart for a while has helped instead of ruining everything? I can say that this has happened to me, against all odds, as I thought that Sean and I would've handled this whole meetup situation differently, and about a hundred times more coldly... and I'm digging this moment of ours. I'm digging the sudden twist that things have taken, because in my mind, tonight's meetup was going to be much, much different and way less adorkable than this. We are this, now, and I'm positive that we will be much more than this when he'll finally sober up. I'm not in a rush, as I'm just very happy to be here and to be (still) loved after all. Although one wouldn't say that I'm happy at all, because I'm smiling nervously and slightly biting the inside of my cheek. My heart is full, as I've already said before, but I'm full of anxiety too, tongue tied even, and I couldn't be any other way after he's basically blurted out that he has plans to make me his caregiver of the future. That, when I was expecting him to be serious and considerate the least. And I swear that if he doesn't say a word to break the super awkward wall of silence and snuggles by himself, I'll go near damn insane. There are so many things I'd want to tell him... then why can't I just? Am I really so in love with him, he takes my words away and makes me feel even drunker than he is himself ? Is this even humanly possible ? Or is this just my daily reminder that love is a feeling too strong for me to bear? Whereas it's never strong enough, for the man I'm in love with?
I'm such a lucky girl. I mean, I was about to be cheated on, but I was the girl I was going to be cheated on with... so it doesn't matter. I think. Because it's basic maths that if he's found the bravado to woo me and attempt to drag me to his room, it's because he'd fall in love with me at first sight in all nine lives, if we were cats. We aren't cats, we are humans, and the closest to feline we can get is that he's purring his cheek against my shoulder (what a sweet babe, my goodness), and that he's staring right into my eyes, which are a little elongated... I mean, feline. We are just enjoying our much deserved, reconciling moment, snuggling and crawling closer to eachother, we are face to face and heart to heart, I'm looking into his eyes and he's looking back into mine, smiling like he's enjoying the sight he's beholding ... and that's all incredibly sweet. So sweet I really don't know how to put it in words, and it's kind of concerning because I'm a writer in my spare time. He too is struggling to find the words, and it's kinda concerning too because he's the quickest witted person I've ever met in my life, and he always knows what to say... so? Does this mean that he's more in love with me than I think he could possibly, ever be? Does this mean that he's so in love with me that I take away his ability to talk? Even when he's drunk out of his mind? Relieving, adorable much, sweet to a fault ... but why can't he just speak and end this awkward as heck silence once and for all? I promise I want to talk. It's just that I don't think I have anything to bring to the table right now. I'm lost for words... and it's all his eyes' fault.
'Fay?' He chimes in, and I get goosebumps all over when I can hear him say my name. Again. In that low, firm and mysterious tone that never fails to make my heart bump and swell into my chest, to the point in which I can feel electric shocks all the way down to my thighs. Okay, he hasn't said much, he's just said my name, in shorter form for economy of letters and because he 'prefers' it that way, that while tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, but I'm literally swooning. Passing out. Shunting and fluttering. Dying. In his arms. With my head against his chest. Just like the night we first met. Only more intensely, because back then, he didn't know my name at the registry office just yet, and a 'Tori with the Triumph Bonneville' couldn't get me as startled up as a 'Fay'. And because back then, he wasn't my man by all rights just yet. I knew I would've wanted him to be my man, sure I did, but I would've never sworn he was going to become that. Surprise surprise, two months forward, he's my man. Still my man. No matter what we've gone through, and the closures (and bullshit) we've given to eachother in multiple instances. We still belong, and the hug we're sharing now is the proof that we're meant to be. The fact that he's taken the initiative and broken the silence to put an end to the awkwardness is the proof that he's always, always the one who wears the trousers in this relationship. Or whatever it is. Because although I'm hundred percent sure that we belong, and that we'd belong in all nine lives if we were cats, I can recall that we've never gotten back together after the split up situation of a few weeks ago. And it sucks... because I want to be unmistakably sure that I'm still his girl. But I must be that, all paranoias of mine aside. Because if I weren't, he wouldn't have told me that he loves me 'so fucking much', and he wouldn't have spent the last quarter of an hour talking about his girlfriend. Aka me. Right?
