He lifts my head from his chest, eyes pouring deep
into mine, as if they hold the answers to all the world's secrets. For him, perhaps they do. He's told me many times how much
I mean to him. It's just as much as he does to me.
"Could I ask you something?" he requests, breaking
my thoughts.
"You can ask me anything Needle Noggin, you
know that."
"Why- Why do you love me?"
I blink at the question, then smile. I lift myself
to whisper in his ear, still lying beside him. "Before I met you, I was dying. You gave me a reason to look forward to waking
up each day. You saved my soul. I just can't believe you actually love me back." I nudge the mole by his eye with my nose,
then kiss him.
"Why can't you believe I love you?" he asks softly.
"You're full of questions tonight."
"How could I /not/ love you?"
He's not going to drop it. Great. "I'm hot headed
and moody."
"And trigger-happy. But you're also kindhearted and
compassionate," he finishes. "We're two of a kind, you know? We see only the bad things in ourselves, and wonder how anyone
could possibly love us."
"Yeah," I reply. "You're right."
"Ugh. I don't like being right."
"No you don't."
"Usually."
"Now I'm right."
I give him another nudge. He smiles and kisses me.
Always so softly, as if he's afraid he'll brake me. But his gentleness is oddly reassuring. It's something I can count on.
Our lips part and he rubs his nose against mine, grinning like an idiot. I brush my hand along his cheek and wonder what I
could have possibly done in my life to deserve him. Wrapped up like this feels so perfect, so safe, so right. I never knew
such security exsisted.
