in the beehive | sting eucliffe

in love

"But really though, will we ever know if us meeting was luck? Even if it was, haven't we still met? Isn't that what matters?"

"What if it was destiny?" 

"Us meeting was destiny? Sting, this is not a fairy tale." 

You bump your head against him playfully. On the ceiling, an emerald star is projected from one end to the other, leaving a green streak behind. 

"I know, I know. But isn't it fun to think about some sort of a higher power who was like: 'yeah, Sting Eucliffe and (y/n) (l/n)? That could work. Let's set up a meeting.'"

He imitates a loud, booming voice that echoes slightly in your living room. You laugh. 

"Yeah, yeah. God playing matchmaker, sure. What's wrong with the prospect of coincidences and accidents?" 

You can feel his frown next to you, a borderline pout. 

"But that's not rooooooomaaaaantic," he whines, in that typical Sting-way of his. 

You chuckle. "Not everything has to be a love story." 

"But I like thinking about us as a love story..." 

"Don't you think our relationship is much more than a love story? It's not just about love anymore, Sting. There's compassion, understanding, anger, frustration..." 

"So you're saying this is our life story, not our love story?"