No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.

the tucked away house is a dream that could come true and that is everything

I guess I fell asleep eventually, as I wake a couple hours later to light coming through my eyelids.

I kind of turn onto my back, but I can't really because there are arms wrapped around my middle. Annabelle. I tilt my head to look at her, but I don't really see her face because it's pressed into the crook of my neck.

Some stray strands of her hair, which she tied into a bun last night before we fell asleep, are tickling my face. I can feel little exhales of her breath against my collarbone.

I stay in this position for a while, just relishing in the feeling of having her next to me.

Then my neck starts to hurt, because I craned it in such an awkward position to be able to look at her. And I could really go for some coffee right about now.

I slowly remove her arms from my waist and try to slide out of the bed.

"No," she murmur-grumbles, waving her arm half-heartedly. The sound is slightly muffled by the pillow she has moved her head to. "You're so warm, Haze."

"I'm gonna make coffee, though," I mumble in response. I can't see her face, but I know she's rolling her eyes.

"Fine," she hums. I smile at her sleeping position, which is splayed out like a starfish.

And then I make my way to the kitchen. There's an espresso machine on the counter. I look at it, surprised. Usually college students can't afford espresso machines -- they're pretty expensive.

Then I remember that Annabelle runs a basically famous blog, so an espresso machine is attainable.

I make myself some and then I look in her fridge to see what I can make for breakfast. There's bread and eggs and when I look through enough cupboards there's cinnamon and vanilla so I decide to make French toast.

Fifteen minutes, there's a warm smell in the air and I hear the bedroom door open. A sleepy-eyed Annabelle comes stumbling out, her clothes and hair mussed. (But still perfect somehow.)

She comes up and hugs me from behind.

"You're still so warm. How?" she mutters into the back of my right shoulder. The very tip of her nose is a bit cold, and I giggle.

"I hope you like French toast, sweetheart," I tell her.

"Love it," she declares.

"I made you coffee."

"You are an angel." And with that, she lets me go and slips onto her counter.

I open her cupboards and reach for a Harry Potter mug. (She has an almost ridiculous amount of mugs for one person.)

Annabelle laughs quietly when she sees I have to go on my tiptoes to reach the shelf.

"You're so cute," she sighs.

I blush and roll my eyes, then add milk and sugar to her coffee and hand the mug to her. I turn around a take the last pieces of toast off the stove and turn the burner off.

She ruffles my hair. "Can I braid your hair?"

I nod. She smiles, then sets her mug down and hops off the counter. She skips out of the kitchen happily, then returns moments later with a brush and a hair tie and slides smoothly back onto the counter.

I lean back against her, and she starts to run the brush through my hair. It's soothing and she's humming something softly and I feel so relaxed in this moment.

And then her gentle fingers start weaving through my hair, and I feel content.

This is a feeling I'd like to experience every day. And the thought I had a couple months ago doesn't seem so unattainable.

We could have a quiet, tucked away house. Come home to each other every day. Wake up next to each other every day. Be in love with each other every day.

I smile. The thought makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

"Done!" Annabelle announces. "Let me see," she says excitedly. I turn around to face her. "You're so cute!" she smiles.

I blush and grin back.

"And there you go with the cheek thing again," Annabelle sighs dramatically. "It's like you're trying to kill me."

"French toast, darling?" I offer a piece to her and she takes a large bite. "Do you have syrup?"

Annabelle just shrugs, probably not able to speak to the amount of food in her mouth.

I walk over to the refrigerator and open it, searching for syrup. There's some in the way back. I pour a little bit onto my plate and hop onto the counter next to Annabelle.

I rip the slice of toast into strips and dip them into the syrup.

When I look up, Annabelle's looking at me with such a soft look on her face.

"What?" I ask, not caring that my mouth is full.

"I'm just incredibly happy that you're you and you're here with me," she says casually. My heart jumps at that. How funny it is, that she could say something so offhandedly that means the world to me.

I wrap an arm around her soft waist and pull her into me. It's less awkward than you'd think, considering our height difference.

"I love you," I reply.

"I love you."

I smile at her and she smiles at me.

I eat more French toast and she leans her head on my shoulder.

Something across the room catches my eye. It's a small houseplant, resting in a glass jar filled with holographic marbles. It's very pretty, and I kind of stare at it for a couple moments.

"I like your houseplant," I blurt out. I feel her smile.

"Thanks. I like your French toast."

"Thanks. I like you."

"Thanks. I like you too."

We both start giggling.

I wonder if Annabelle ever thinks about tucked-away houses as she leans into me.

I hope so.

a/n: here's a hug in case you need one

*hug*

have a nice day