And with her palm hugging his cheek she says three simple, little words. But to him they aren't so simple because he's never heard them before, never thought he was deserving of them, and it completely mindfucks him. It makes him feel so weak, turns his brain to mush and his tongue expand five times its size. She then moves her hand, the soft pads of her fingers lightly brushing the fringe from his vision, corners of her mouth curving into an embarrassed little smile and fucking hell, he doesn't deserve her, but he can't seem to pull himself away. All he can do is stare down at her, into her blue doe like eyes and get lost in them. Though saying that her eyes are blue is like saying the sun is yellow. Sufficient -- yes, but not nearly accurate enough to capture the light they hold within -- after all, she's made of fucking light. It practically flows out of her fingertips and the ends of her hair. Though he's discovered she's made of other things too, like guitar strings, messy braids and earth tones. Common things, but also not. Not when it comes to her because people like this -- like her -- aren't common, not in his neck of the woods anyway.
She then cups his face in both palms and he almost flinches, but then doesn't. She's touching him and her knuckles aren't bruised and his cheek isn't throbbing -- her intentions are those of kindness. And in a voice as gentle as her touch, she repeats those three simple, little words that both ignite his bones and sicken him;
"I love you."
And he says them back.
