In the Language of the Flowers

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✾ Buttercup ✾

I slowly awoke to comfortable warmth and slightly uncomfortable heaviness. When I cracked my eyes open, I realized that both were because of Ren. His tattooed arm was draped across my stomach. As he slept, he'd curled his body around mine. His breath tickled my arm where his lips rested delicately against my shoulder. 

I felt adoration unfurl and expand in my chest like someone had exhaled it right into my lungs. Ren's sleeping face was was so peaceful. I watched as his eyelashes fluttered a little and wondered what he was dreaming about. Hopefully, it was a good dream. That was all I wanted for him. I'd never craved someone else's happiness the way I did his. 

I stared at his chest. Our blanket had fallen away a bit during the night. It was early in the morning, and the muted monochrome light made his tattoos look darker than they were. I examined them. There was a large one in the center of his chest of a twisting, almost celtic-looking design. Alongside it were various animals from birds to bears. But mostly his tattoos depicted flowers. I wondered what each of the flowers meant, because he'd certainly known when he'd gotten them. Remembering that unexpected cute side of Ren made a little hint of joy tickle the walls of my heart. 

Gently, so as not to wake him, I touched the lines of his stomach. Ren really was incredibly sexy. It was equal parts unfair, intimidating, and alluring. I cherished all of those feelings and any Ren stirred in me. Ever since it had become satisfiable, I'd allowed myself to embrace my intense, enduring desire for him; alongside that and just as strong, I now felt an instinct to claim his body as my own. Evolution bloomed beautifully inside of me as I lay there touching him. It made me feel like a greedy, selfish person, but I didn't mind. If it meant Ren was mine, I didn't care how other people might see me. And besides, I knew that my body was entirely his in turn. I'd surrender near anything for his sake. 

I looked down at him. His head had somehow slipped off of his pillow during the night, and he was hugging me quite tightly. His hair was a messy explosion of black; its tangles fell away from his face, exposing a forehead which was normally hidden. I turned onto my side, keeping him close to me, and pressed my lips to that forehead. I held his face gingerly in my hand, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his lips, his jaw, and his lips once more. Faintly, slowly, I kissed him, savoring the feeling of once-forbidden proximity. When I finally stopped, I felt his arm tighten around my middle and pull my body close to his. 

He was awake, but before I could look into those quiet eyes of his, he hid his face against my chest. It was my turn to touch his hair. I stroked it in silence, felt its feather-softness. "Good morning," I whispered. 

"God," he exhaled shakily. 

"What?" I asked, attuned to the hint of hidden emotion in his voice. This was the new, slightly delicate version of Ren I'd come to know since we'd admitted our feelings for each other. I loved it a little bit. 

He slowly looked at me, revealing the beginnings of tears in his eyes. Even if the proper words had come to mind in that moment, seeing him like that, I'd never have been able to say them. "I never once believed I'd be lucky enough to feel like this," he said. 

"Like what?" I said, touching his face. 

He closed his eyes like doing so would better allow him to bask in the way he felt, to further understand who he now was and who he wanted to be. "Like nothing could ever go wrong again. Like the world is perfect." 

"Safe," I said. I felt the same. After I'd lost mom, I hadn't thought I'd feel it ever again, either. And yet here we both were, each just as astonished at our luck. With Ren, for the first time in ages, I felt like I'd been whisked away to a parallel universe where happy endings were a dime a dozen.