"You remind me of the moon," he tells me, on our third date, "You have beauty that I can't explain. Just like the moon."
I deny it after he says that, because who could think I, in a world full of such beautiful people like him, am beautiful?
"Stop that, Mitchy, I mean it," he goes on, "You're sure as hell the most beautiful person I've ever met."
I tuck my hands inside the long sleeves of my shirt as a blush, a smile sneaking it's way onto my lips.
That's when he kisses my smiling lips, for the second time since we'd met, the feeling just as great as the first.
About six months later I have woken up to a, "good morning, honey," his voice raspy with sleep, as he runs his fingers through my hair gently, "sleep well?"
"Mmhm," is the muffled reply he receives, getting a soft kiss to his chest seconds after.
Not slipping back into sleep is a challenge with him massaging my scalp like this, and once he takes notice, he stopped.
"Keep going," I plead, and he says he doesn't want me falling asleep again, it's 11:30.
"I know it's not your time of day, moonbeam," he giggles, but you've gotta stay awake."
A year passes and he's barely made it in the door before tears escape his eyes, and a sob escapes his lips as he sits down against the wall.
I'm familiar with these little "fits," as he calls them, sometimes when life comes crashing down on him he just breaks.
I walk over to him, sitting down next to him and wrapping my arms around him.
"I've got you," I say, brushing his hair out of his face with my fingers, and pressing my lips to his after. "I love you, Scotty, you'll get through this."
Once he's calmed down and we're in bed, he says one thing before we slip into sleep.
"I love you, Moon, you mean everything to me."
Another year passes before it happens.
He's down on one knee, a box with a ring open in his hands, and he's saying things to me that mean the world to me. The shock of the moment has me so into what's happening that I interrupt him to say it.
"Yes, Scott, I'll marry you. I'll be your moon if you'll be my sun."
He stands up and kisses me deeply.
"Moonbeam, I'd love to be your sun."