"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.