My Love...

"Hey, can we talk?"

It's desperate--a plea--slipping from chapped lips like a ghost. A whisper of something lingering on the edge. It's rubbing the back of my neck, scratching my jaw, looking anywhere but your eyes, because I know I'd drown. How I wring my hands, my fingertips frozen, my ears flushing red. When I chance a glance, my breath is caught on the wind rustling your hair, the tendrils of sunlight peeking through clouds, gold and orange and luminous. I can only stutter out a weak something, before curling in on myself and slouching in defeat. I hear you sigh lightly, smiling and turning away, and I lost my chance.

"I need to tell you something..."

Try two and something feels different. Confidence, exhilaration, the dusty room surrounding us boosting me up straighter. But I choke on the way you glance up from the comic, eyes lingering on the page for a second, before shooting to me. Clear blue, deep and entrancing, like the ocean, like the sky. Daring and gorgeous and I'm being swallowed whole. Confusion quirking your eyebrows, your lips, a chuckle slipping free and I can't bring myself to do anything but stumble forward and hold you. Fingers grasping your shirt, a lifeline, the only tether I have to this world. Your hands on the back of my head, threading in my hair. Legs wrapping around me and I can only gasp into your shoulder as I feel your mouth on my neck and we drift into infinity.

"Its, uh, it's important."

Third try's the charm. We sit by a fire, our roof the stars and walls just trees creaking in the breeze. The fall air is clean, fresh, crisp, and I take a breath to steady my racing heart. I decide not to look at you because I know I'd get lost before I could speak. Instead, I stare at the sky, at the moon silhouetted by the stars, but then I think of your eyes, the freckles on your back, and I shoot you a glance. It was a mistake. The fire dances on your face, striking and golden and beautifully blissful and I can't speak. The crackle and spark in your eyes, drinking in the land around us, peaceful and warm. It's how your hands fidget with a bullet without realizing, how your foot taps to a beat only you can hear, and I hesitate on the lump in my throat. You feel my eyes watching you and turn, corners crinkling and I can only reach out, fingertips brushing your hair, before retreating. The image of you is too alluring and soft and warm to disrupt. A classic art piece, with you as the center. I jerk my head away, cracking some dumb joke, voice obviously strained, and I hear a light snicker that makes my heart soar.

"Seriously, I have something to tell you."

Maybe this time, I tell myself. I grab your arm and pretend not to feel the muscle underneath the shirt. I meet your eyes, hesitant and nervous. Those pools of moonlight, swimming with stardust and charm, and I can only gape silently. Eyes drift down, to the scar on your chin, your slender neck. A mark just under the collar of your shirt, red and purple, bruised skin from last night's adventure. I feel a blush and have to let go abruptly, hands flying to fiddle with the hem of my flannel. I can smell the smoke drifting from between your fingers, see the ash and light playing on the scars, and I have stop myself from holding and kissing them. People walk past us, watching, whispering, and I see your mouth turn into a scowl and my heart sinks. Instead of speaking, I smile, a fond thing gracing my lips, and guide you to the inn, trying to ignore the way the sunset highlights your hair, makes it rich and golden. I pretend the light is brighter than that smile, that I can't see it because of the angle, and not because I can only see my own pulse thrumming. We duck inside the building and you become shrouded in darkness, a blessing and a curse. The dimmed light of the bar and the alcohol dancing on our tongues is what keeps me from uttering those words.

"Hey, I- what's wrong?"

I'm brushing the tears from your face, worry furrowing my brows and it feels like I'm swallowing glass. Somewhere deep inside me, I feel a match strike, the fury flaring. Every stuttered gasp that leaves your lips makes that flame burn hotter, brighter, until I'm almost shaking. Who hurt you, I want to ask, but when you look up at me, face splotched and red, sniffling, the flame goes out, barely a sigh of anger left. Your fingers dig into my shoulder blades and I'm pulling you closer until your sobbing into my neck. Those cries, the breathless way you call out a name; I feel my heart shatter with every stutter. My head is throbbing by the time your body becomes slack against mine, gasping in air. I rub your back, your hair, trying to sooth you to sleep. You finally fall into a dream, and when I lay you down, my heart wrenches when the midnight air manages to make your red-rimmed eyes and and tear tracks shimmer with beauty. I can't even say it then, my eyes welling and throat finding a lump, and all I can do is lightly kiss your warm forehead.

"Let's talk."

I drag you behind cover, the bullets overhead scorching my nerves, and I look into those eyes, challenge myself not to get lost. Determined, anxious, darting around, and the fear starts to surface when you grip the front of my jacket. You start to say that it's not the time, we can talk later, and I can only snap my mouth shut as you push away with your rifle raised. Watch as you dart away and take aim, body strong, seeming to float, everything in you prepared, and scarily, you look so right like that. Adrenaline floods me when a shot grazes your thigh. I barely manage to jerk my eyes away long enough to miss a bullet aimed for my head, and my last thoughts before plunging back in are how your eyes looked, the grin that appeared when you saw me aim my pistol; both dangerous, thrilling, shaking me to my core at how alive you are.

"I love you."

The words slip out easily, a hushed voice that doesn't sound like mine, hovering on the air like the wisps of smoke coming from your cigarette. Somehow, I feel I said something wrong. I watch you turn to look at me, confused, brows furrowed. Those eyes meet mine and that helpless, hopeless feeling returns when you study me. I try to look away but those deep blues have me locked to the spot. Midnight moonlight, starlight and rain water and ash, everything in the world contained in those two eyes, captivating and longing and my heart aches with how much I love them, love you. A universe behind those eyes and you're the god over me. Your hands, nicotine dangling from them, strong and sure and always ready to pull me up, scarred and calloused, rough but soft and caring, nurturing. You, everything little thing; the way your hair tangles in my hands, how it looks when you wake up in the morning, wild and mussed and soft. How those lips can morph from a frown to a scowl to a smile to a grin. How, despite being chapped and wind blown, they can leave the softest kisses, how they leave a trail of fire across my skin and ignite me, how laughter can spill from them like music and I can almost taste the joy. Those eyes, my favorite feature of you. Blue, clear, observant. The way they watch the trees and grass sway in the wind, stare longingly at the stars and moon, the sunrises and sunsets turning them into pools of molten gold, strangely inviting. Your skin, how the scars seem to dance even though I wish they weren't there, the way you turn radiant in any light, glowing and lively. Heartbreakingly young. Breathtaking. My heart constricts when you come closer, standing inches away. My head tips back in frustration and I feel small, sitting in my desk chair, and I turn away to shuffle papers around when you grab my shoulders.

"My love, you'll never love me as much as I love you."

You leaned down, and my mind blanked on the ecstasy, the loving embrace, the warmth and longing in that kiss and with you in my lap, your arms around my neck, and our lips breathless with giggles against each other, I'm at home.