Champagne Problems

Part Three

The video starts to repeat itself. Two young adults, crying as we swayed in tune to the song. Starry eyed and young.

I miss when I felt starry eyed. Like he was my second half.

He ended up tattooing that quote onto his skin. Directly above his hearts.

you make my heart smile

Permanently carved into his skin.

I never once doubted that he loved me. He taught me love. How to love him. How to love myself. The sweet gestures and the constant affirmations of how great I am whenever I doubted myself I wouldn't be able to get the job of my dreams. Whenever I would feel insecure of my body or my height.

Everything about you is perfect. You are perfect.

However, I knew it disappointed him when I struggled to just say "I love you" to him. I've never been in a relationship before him, never knew how to love someone. I just didn't know how to vocalise my love for him. I was more of an "acts of service" girl. Tending to his cuts after playing football with his mates, offering massages or waking up early to make him a perfect mug of coffee. Or saying I was full after eating just half of my meal on dates he would take me on, when we were both broke university students and would eat small meals at cheap restaurants. Offering my food to him because he wouldn't order enough for himself. He taught me how to love. How to express it in our special way. And then we felt complete.

But then something happened, and our picturesque version of love cracked.

♡ ♡ ♡ 

I rounded the corner and soon I found myself in front of a modest one story house. A small garden of various flowers and a dwarf cherry tree I got him as a random gift one day because he mentioned he likes cherries. I take note of the two cars parked outside the house as I make my way to the front door, pressing the doorbell as I bounce on the balls of my feet.

"Hello, my darling!" Theo greets, when he opens his door, pulling me into his chest for a hug. I stiffly hug him back, remembering why I decided to come over to his house tonight.

"You okay?" He asks when he pulls away, cocking an eyebrow as I look up to meet his face. I nodded, not trusting my voice to not crack, and he places one hand on my waist, another on my jaw, and he brings me in for a kiss.

I wanted to cry.

I feel sick with guilt of what I was going to do to this poor man.

I feel awful.

He squeezes my waist three times. Our secret message before he pulls away and invites me in.