You can probably guess as to what happens this chapter just based on the name. To mark the start of their relationship, I am switching the rest of this story from third person to first person point of views. The point of view will be indicated by a name in all caps at the beginning of the point of view.
This was easily my favorite chapter in the whole story to write.
TESSIA ERALITH
For two hours I tossed and turned, restless and wired, thinking about anything and everything related to Elenoir. Regardless of the stress involved, I knew I would do what it took to protect my homeland and help its people. We both would, Art and I. There was no doubt that Art would, of course. Art was always more than prepared to die for his family, almost too willing to risk his life if it meant keeping an innocent safe. This thought scared me more than anything. I couldn't even imagine a world without Art in it.
I closed my eyes and played over in my mind our last conversation when we said our goodnights on the balcony of Teagrin Calum only two hours prior.
He had given me a hug, his arms wrapped tight around my shoulders, and his chin had briefly set itself atop my head, a gesture he had never done while hugging me before. It was over much too quickly and he pulled away, his hands squeezing my shoulders once before dropping his hands to his sides. As he said goodnight to me in the comfort of darkness, he looked distracted and nervous, almost as if he wanted to tell me something but didn't know how.
Art immediately turned away from the balcony towards his bedroom, but just as he was about to enter the palace he turned around. When looked back at me his expression was serious and his eyes moved over my entire body. I felt chills run down my spine when he finally looked into my eyes and gave me one last nod and a smile. I was speechless. I felt as if I was suddenly standing in front of him fully nude, exposed in the way he was staring at me.
And although the thought of him made my insides heat up with undeniable pleasure, I wanted nothing more than to smack Art upside his head for doing this to me.
How dare he look at me that way and then not do anything about it?
Leaving me to assume and hope things that may or may not be true. I've doubted myself and him and every feeling I've had about him potentially wanting me ever since he came back from the war and told me he loved me like a friend. It wasn't fair!
Was he suffering as much as I was or did this amuse him? How was it that he made me so incredibly hot and bothered, while he seemed to remain cool and unaffected? But, wait. He wasn't exactly cool, was he? Everything he'd done and said, it had to be for a reason right? All the teasing, and... touching. That isn't something that friends do right?
He had been saying such sweet things, listening intently to my mad ideas regarding bringing Alacryan technology to Dicathen and offering to help me on the political front. This was very unlike my childhood friend, who seemed to hate even being in a room where politics was happening.
He obviously must know how I feel. I left no uncertainty in my confession. Perhaps that was why he was behaving so audaciously, but at the same time watching me, always waiting to see how I would react to things.
If he truly loved me like I desperately hoped, why wasn't he taking matters into his own hands? Did he expect me to do something about this? Whatever this even was...
I had to find out, or else I knew I would get no sleep at all.
I threw back my covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I didn't even bother dressing up, simply putting on a nightgown and my slippers as I traversed the room I was set up in and ducked into the hallway. The Alacryan palace was always so full of life during our stay here. So bright and cheerful now that peacetime had come. But at just after midnight, with everyone closed up in their rooms fast asleep, it was just a cold, empty building. Luckily, the floors were made of marble and the walls were made of stone, so I knew I wouldn't have to worry about making any noise as I walked to the end of the hallway towards the door that led straight to Art's bedroom.
I was incensed, raging inside my head about all he was doing to me, playing with my feelings that way. I have had complete control of those mad hormones I had ever since puberty for years now, but I was finding it incredibly difficult to manage while being around him or even thinking about him. As I stood in front of his door, my ear flush against the wood, listening for signs of sleep from the other side, I felt my hormones laughing at me, as if they knew I never really had control to begin with.
My stomach flipped over and my heart was beating right out of my chest as I stood there, gathering my courage and trying to hold onto the anger that led me there in the first place. But I had no idea what I was going to say to him and my reasoning was quickly broken down by so much longing and unresolved tension that my hands were starting to shake against the metal knob.
"Damn it," I whispered to myself. What the hell was I even doing? I should be trying to sleep now! I was about to release the doorknob when the door suddenly opened so quickly and with such force that I was yanked into Art's room, my socked feet slipping on the polished floors. I made a yelping sound and felt Art's strong muscular arm go across my lower back as he pulled me up to my feet.
"Whoa," he said, shocked to find me attached to his door. I clung to him, my fingers digging into hard, but soft skin and I quickly noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Oh, god. How I hate him sometimes.
I quickly looked away from his bare, chiseled torso, knowing full well my face would turn scarlet red if I stared at it for too long. "I heard a sound at the door and was wondering what it was."
His face was close to mine because he hadn't let go, and his arm was still wrapped around my waist in an unnecessary attempt to keep me upright. Or maybe the support was needed as I used my other hand to hold onto his shoulder, sliding down his arm as I pushed myself up the rest of the way. My knees were weak and my head cloudy from our proximity and the connection of my hands on the bare skin of his arm and shoulder.
"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, his eyes darting around my face and body. "Did something happen? Is someone hurt? Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine," I said as he started feeling my face and arms with his large, strong hands, worry etched on his gorgeous face. It was too much, the sensations going through me at that moment. I tried not to gasp as I extricated myself from his arms, and then quickly walked the rest of the way into his room, and away from his clean and manly scent that was making my brain all mushy. Mushy? Oh, god. My brain has short-circuited; I am losing my vocabulary.
"Okay, good. So then... what are you doing here, Tess? It's past midnight."
"I'm aware of the time, Art," I answered hotly and rolled my eyes. "I couldn't sleep." That was the reason, was it not? I could still feel his warm skin and then his smell, and it all seemed to have wiped my memory.
"Yeah, same here. I am pretty nervous about the talks happening tomorrow," he said with a nod.
I simply nod along with him as I hug myself around the middle, trying desperately not to think too hard about the fact that I am with Art, alone in his bedroom, at midnight.
Someone help me.
"I know Caera is a friend and all, but this is about her continent. She won't play easy tomorrow as it is about the good of Alacrya," Art started pacing and although our conversation was serious my traitorous mind couldn't help but notice the way his bicep flexed when he raised his hand to scratch his chin and the auburn hairs around his navel...
"Do you think Darv would be willing to provide some fire salt for the train project? If we can promise a demo of it working, we can probably trade the tech behind the train for the tech behind the rune card system they have here. I am sure that would be greatly beneficial for the merchants," Art said, trying to be helpful despite being out of his depth.
I realized he was staring, waiting for an answer to a question that I hadn't realized he asked, and I shook my head to clear it. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked and came closer, peering into my face. "You look a bit unwell."
"I'm fine!" I say a bit too loudly, making Art flinch and back away from me. "Sorry, I'm just restless. That's all."
"It's ok. You must be tense about tomorrow. Heck, I am not even really doing anything and I am still nervous about them," Art said as he picked up a red and brown striped t-shirt from a pile of clothes on the floor and pulled it on. I stifled a groan, mourning the loss of his bare torso. I briefly wondered just how much control I could possibly have left.
He walked to the door and listened before shaking his head to let me know that no one appeared to be in the hallway. Thank goodness.
"Don't want to wake anyone," Art muttered as he closed the door. The air suddenly felt thicker and hotter, and I just knew it wasn't all in my head, which both enthralled and petrified me at the same time.
Without the light from the hallway lighting artifacts illuminating the room I could barely make him out, but I could see his outline coming closer. I backed up only for his desk to stop me from going further. I huffed and he chuckled as he touched his left hand to my right elbow. Then he leaned in closer, and I could smell him again. I trembled as his chest slid against mine and I remembered that I wasn't wearing a bra, leaving very little fabric between the two of us.
His eyebrow twitched just slightly and his throat made a sound as he swallowed thickly before looking up from my chest to my face. I felt a generous amount of smugness at the thought of making him feel even a tiny amount of what he's put me through. Then he looked down at my lips; I bit back a moan and closed my eyes, my heart skipping...
Then he said quietly, his voice close to my ear, "I'm just gonna..."
I felt the pressure of his tall frame on mine, making me lean back, my behind pushing his desk chair into the desk, making a low grinding noise as it moved across the wood...
"Wh- What are you doing?" I stuttered and cleared my throat, fighting for every breath to remain collected and unfazed. He blinked down at me and, with the lack of distance between us I could feel his heartbeat climbing.
"I'm getting a candle," he said as if it was obvious, but his heart and the hitch in his voice gave him away. He was as nervous as I was, but seemed to have worked something out in his head that was fueling him in initiating this contact between us.
Art searched for this candle with his right hand while his left hand steadied himself on the back of the chair to my right, his thumb resting against my hip. He had effectively boxed me in and I didn't dare move an inch, waiting to see what he would do next.
I knew that something positively monumental was about to happen, even if I had to make it happen myself.
He retrieved the candle and stepped back, but only enough so that I no longer felt his body, but still felt his breath on my forehead, and then on my lashes when I tilted my head back to look up at him. He silently lit the candle with fire mana. In this new light I saw him staring at my face, studying my reaction. Something clicked in my brain and I remembered why I came to his room.
"Why do you keep doing that?" I asked, my curiosity taking over.
His gaze stuttered and he blinked as if waking up, then looked sideways, guiltily if I wasn't mistaken, especially when he started to rub his hand over the side of his neck.
"Doing what? I'm not doing anything," Art said and then shrugged as if I was making things up. He took another step back and I could finally breathe, albeit not quite as normally as I would have had he not been standing a foot away from me.
I wanted to scold him for lying because he had to know what he was doing to me. It had to be on purpose, all those long stares and unnecessary touches, and just then... with his body all but crushing mine. How could he stand there and deny everything?
I opened my mouth to speak, but then promptly closed it. Perhaps he didn't mean anything by it. Perhaps we were only getting closer as friends and I was misinterpreting everything in an attempt to see something there that really wasn't. And I was just about to spill everything and risk it all: my feelings, our friendship, my sanity. And all to accuse him of flirting with me? He would think I went crazy.
And if I was right, if he did have feelings for me and was trying to send me some kind of message through his actions... well, I couldn't very well go on just that, could I? I needed more evidence, proof, that he felt the same. I needed to hear it.
But then maybe he needed the same from me? That couldn't possibly be the case right? I had told him so years ago. God, this was all so confusing!
"Oh, nevermind," I said and pushed myself off of the desk and made for the door before my face got any redder. But I was stopped by Art's hand on my wrist, and I could have choked on the breath that got stuck in my throat.
"Wait," he said and pulled me back toward the middle of the room. "I thought you couldn't sleep."
I turned around to face him and almost wished I hadn't. He looked so gorgeous with the light behind him casting shadows across his face, his angular jaw even more pronounced and his eyes darker than usual. And the way he was looking at me with so much concern and anticipation made my heart speed up again.
"I'll just lay down and I'll fall asleep eventually," I said. "Goodnight, Art." I turned to leave and once again he pulled me back, this time looking desperate and pleading. As if he truly did not want me to go.
And just like earlier tonight on the balcony, he seemed to want to tell me something. Only the words were stuck in his throat.
"Well, I can't," Art said. "Please just stay and we'll talk or something. It'll keep both of us from worrying about tomorrow and then we can get some rest."
Or something, I repeated his words in my head and bit down on my lip. I glanced over his shoulder and took in his room with my eyes. There was only a single bed...
"What if I fall asleep while we're... talking?"
"What about it?"
"Are you... sure?"
He hesitated, his eyes rounded, and I thought he had finally realized what he was asking: for me to stay with him, in his room, overnight... in his bed, most likely.
"I can sleep on the floor. You can have my bed," he said and smirked, looking relieved to have come up with a solution to keep me here. As if I really needed much convincing.
"I could never let you sleep on the floor, Art. It's your room." I wanted to add that we have slept in the same bed before when we were little, but the words didn't escape my throat. I knew very well we were much older now, and everything was different between us compared to those innocent times.
"Come on," he said and rolled his eyes. "I don't mind. I'm just so bored by myself right now."
"Alright fine," I said, trying my best to act reluctant even though I was screaming jubilantly inside.
"Great!"
Then I was being pulled toward his bed where we sat facing each other. He was sitting with his back against the headboard and his legs spread out in front of him. I was at the foot of the bed, leaning with my side against the wall, with my legs tucked underneath me. And true to his word we talked... and talked about everything we could think of except for the talks that would happen the next day. We traded stories from our time apart in the war. He told me about the shenanigans Caera and he would get into at Alaric's suggestion and Seris's exasperation. And he was very interested in my life during the war and the times we had been apart after. He was so funny and more relaxed than I'd ever seen him. And he also had this effect on me, as he always does, to make me feel at ease, which is sort of funny because he is also the only one who could make me feel the most uncomfortable and on edge that I'd ever felt in my life.
As we spoke I moved to sit next to him, my knees touching his leg and when he made me laugh, which was often, he shushed me by putting his finger to my lips. I would push his hand away and smack his shoulder when he was teasing me. It was both exhilarating and exhausting, and I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so... happy. So complete.
Art was the first one to start yawning, and I should have told him to set himself up on the floor like he said he would, but I couldn't do it. I meant what I said and I didn't want him sleeping on the floor like an animal or something. Not even an animal deserves that kind of treatment.
And I suppose I could have left when I saw his eyes blinking more slowly and his smile looking more lazy with every passing minute. But I didn't. Instead, I kept talking right through my own yawns and settled down next to him, using his pillow and almost drowning in the scent of his hair that was embedded in it.
I was on my side on top of his blankets, nearly dozing off when he spoke from his slumped position next to me, stifling another yawn. "I think we're both tired enough to go to bed now, yeah?"
I lifted my head quickly when I felt him start to move, and I panicked, not wanting him to go, not now that I was so close to something as real and physical as sleeping next to him.
"No, don't!" I hissed and reached to stop him, my hand closing around his wrist this time, and I pulled him back. I was so tired and a bit delirious, so I blamed my rash actions on those facts alone. "Stay here and sleep with me. Please." Now I was the one pleading.
He no longer looked sleepy as he stared at me, his mouth open slightly; enough to tell me that I might have gone too far, too soon. I was about to say so when he nodded.
"Sure Tess, okay," he said and then stood up to lift the covers. "Move up a bit."
I turned to my back and lifted my pajama-covered legs to my chest so that he could shake the covers from underneath me and then over me. And then he was with me, under the covers, and the next thing I knew he had cut off the mana supplying the fire on the candle. It was now dark enough that it took about a minute for my eyes to adjust. And in that minute we both laid on our back, only our shoulders and knees touching. It was so silent I could hear both of us breathing, and I knew he was still awake.
"Are you awake?" I asked stupidly.
"No," he whispered back, making both of us laugh and successfully easing a bit of tension.
I felt him move and we were no longer touching, but he was there and still close since there really wasn't a lot of room on his narrow bed. I remained on my back and let out a sigh, unable to keep it in any longer. The tension still hadn't left me and I assumed Art was already falling asleep until he spoke again.
"What's the matter?" His breath tickled my ear and I realized that even though we weren't touching, he was even closer, having turned on his side to face me. I shivered and let out a soft laugh.
"Nothing," I said and shrugged even though I knew he could barely see me. "This is just odd, isn't it? I mean, we've never done this before."
Art laughed under his breath and I felt it again in my ear. "But we used to do this all the time when we were little, Tess."
"That was different," I said and lifted myself onto my elbow to look down at him. "We were much younger then. You do realize how it is different now, right?"
"Well, yeah," he said and yawned as he raised himself to look at me. I was grateful that it was no longer too dark not to see him but dark enough for him not to notice how red my face was. "But we are best friends, Tess. This shouldn't feel weird, you know?"
And he was studying me again, squinting to see my reaction. I wasn't sure what he was hoping to find, but I didn't really care because just that one statement, reminding me that we were "best friends", although true, broke my heart.
I knew that I was the one who suggested we remain as friends so many years ago back at the graveyard. But still, I could no longer look at him, scared that I would start to cry and then he would wonder why and I'd have to tell him the truth, that I didn't want to be his best friend, not anymore.
"Oh, yeah, right, of course, we are... friends," I said and laid back down. "The best," I finish with what I know is a hint of bitterness. I could feel him staring at me so I yawned and turned away to face the wall. "Good night, Art," I said and shut my eyes tight, willing myself not to let any tears escape because then that would mean my nose would run and I would have to sniff, and I just could not do that right now.
Art didn't move for several seconds, but I could feel him looking at the back of my head. Then he plopped down onto the bed and let out a frustrated sigh.
"Tess?"
"Yes?" I held my breath.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No... why?" Stupid question, I thought to myself.
"Okay... because you are, you know... my best friend. And Caera, of course."
"Yes, of course," I said quietly. "Just like Caera." I was working to keep my voice even, and struggling to remain calm even though the mention of me being his damn friend once again made me want to vomit.
"No actually, not the same at all," Art said then shifted again, and his knee brushed my behind, making me gasp. "Sorry," he muttered.
"It's alright," I said and flipped to my other side to look at him, resting my hand under my cheek on his pillow. "What do you mean, not the same?"
"It just... isn't."
Art had his hands clasped behind his head and when he looked at me and smiled I couldn't help but smile back because he was right in a way, this was starting to feel more natural, lying next to him in bed and talking. My stomach was in knots, but this was Art, my Art, I had to remind myself.
"That's so insightful, Art," I said sarcastically.
"Sorry, I don't know. I am not any good at these things," he said and turned his body towards me.
And we were finally face to face. I could see the blue in his eyes and feel his breath coming out of his open mouth blowing on my nose. My hand was curled up into my chest, leaning against his so I could feel his heart beating just as quickly as mine... and I didn't want to talk anymore. I was tired of talking.
I had to take everything that he had said, no matter how confusing, and his actions that, if I were honest, spoke much louder, and use my gut, which was telling me that something was indeed happening between us.
How could I deny this? There was no rational explanation about how I knew, and certainly not enough to warrant what I was about to do, but I had to do it. Life was too short. I waited for too damn long.
Suppose for some inexplicable reason we both died tomorrow and then what? I would never have known what it felt like, what he felt like, in that way.
"Tess-"
"Shhh. Shut up."
With a new resolve and a beating drum for a heart, I pressed my finger on his lips like he did to me earlier, and then slid it across to the corner of his mouth, my eyes following after it. My hand was hot from his breath and I could feel the wetness from the inside of his bottom lip as I dragged it across to the other side. I was mesmerized by how soft and full his mouth was, imagining what it would feel like to have his saliva mixed with mine.
Then he closed his mouth to swallow and my finger was caught. I held my breath and then his tongue flicked across my fingertip, making me gasp. I snatched it back out, startled by what just happened.
"My God," Art said, panting, and he moved even closer. Our knees knocked and forearms pressed together as he brought his hand up to the side of my face. "Definitely not the same as Caera," he admitted.
I laughed because it was such an absurd thing to say at that moment, but meant so much because I finally knew for sure that he felt at least a portion of what I felt for him, and for me, that was more than enough.
A weight was lifted off my chest and shoulders. I felt so racked with emotions that I had to choke back a sob, but this time for a much better reason.
"You're my best friend, too, but certainly not in that way. Not at all," I replied and smiled when he closed his eyes and grinned, looking so happy and relieved. "Did I say something right?" I asked and then giggled when he sputtered in surprise again.
"You're always right, Tess," Art said and rubbed his thumb hard into my cheek before he slid his hand to wrap around the back of my neck. He pulled me forward until our foreheads touched and I had to close my eyes in order to take a deep shuddering breath, to stay coherent enough to remain in that moment..
I grabbed the front of his shirt in my fists and arched my back so that our stomachs lined up and our legs intertwined. I had never been that close to Art, or anyone in fact, and it was doing my head in, making it spin in so many directions. I was literally in his hands at that point.
"Can we please... stop talking?" I said breathlessly.
For once he listened to me and instead of hearing another word, I felt his lips brush against mine. I whimpered because it was so soft and sweet, and when he pulled away we looked at each other, knowing that the line we both tried so hard to keep in our sights had just been crossed. There was no going back and I couldn't find one legitimate reason why I would want to.
Although it was only a chaste kiss, we were both still breathing hard. He cocked his head slightly as if asking me if that was okay and I nodded right away. I felt giddy and ecstatic, and sleep was no longer even an option. I wanted – no, I needed – to kiss him again...
Oh honestly, I would freely admit that right then I wanted so much more than that.
I used my hands which were still clenched in his shirt to pull him to me, and then he crushed my lips to his before I had a chance to even react. And finally, I felt what it was like to be passionately kissed by Arthur Leywin, the only man I ever wanted to kiss me.
He swore under his breath and brought his other hand to the other side of my neck as I moved over him, crushing my breasts to his chest. He said my name, moaned it to be more specific, and the sound sent chills all the way down to my toes.
I said his name and for the first time, I felt his tongue inside my mouth. It might sound completely mad, but it fit perfectly; the way he moved it around, swirling and licking my teeth... It was incredible.
Eventually, we had to come up for air; neither of us had any experience and we had yet to exercise proper breath control in this type of... situation. I grinned happily when I thought about all the practice I was going to get and was eager to find out how much more I could learn alongside Art.
I looked down at him from above and he pushed my hair back behind my pointed ears, holding my head in his hands firmly, but in a gentle manner. His eyes were searching my face, and he looked so serious that my smile faltered.
"What is it?" I asked worriedly. He sighed and I paused to take him in. "The way you keep looking at me... what are you looking for?"
"It hasn't been easy, trying to figure you out," he said. I almost snorted in his face at that remark. Him trying to figure me out? I told my feelings ages ago! I mean, what have I been going through these past few years? I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, but I also wanted to forget all of that stuff and finally do something!
"You are so confusing to me," he said. I nodded slowly, impatient to get this conversation over with as I watched his mouth move as he talked, wishing he would stop so I could kiss him again. "So I read in this book that I should do and say certain things in order to find out how -"
"You read it in a book?" I asked incredulously and held my hand to my mouth, giggling.
"Hey! Don't tease me!" He said, looking thoroughly sheepish. He pinched my side and said, "What was I supposed to do?"
"You could have asked me straight out."
Arthur groaned. "I know, Caera told me the same thing. I found it too hard to do. I didn't want to risk ruining something between us. I would rather have you as a friend than as nothing at all. But why didn't you say anything?"
"I did tell you! Years ago!" I said and then smirked at him, unable to hide my curiosity. "So what kind of book was this? A how-to on torturing the one you love into submission?"
His eyes rounded and he just stared at me, and I realized I had just said the "L" word, and so casually as well.
"Art, do you... love me?"
I took a giant leap of faith by asking that question. I would blame it on the surplus of endorphins and the rise in temperature, particularly around the bed that we were currently sharing, with my body spread over top of his, his hands now on the skin of my back and my hips, clenching when I mentioned the word "love" for the second time in the space of a minute. But I really, really, needed to know.
He blinked up at me, shocked and I told myself to wait it out, to give him a chance to regroup before I assumed the worst. But I was impatient that night and I couldn't seem to control the words that came out of my mouth.
To hell with the stupid "gift" idea I had come up with. To hell with our friendship. I wanted, no needed, more.
"I love you, Art," I said and sucked in a deep breath, then held it, not daring to blink as I fisted his shirt at the shoulders.
"Really? Even after all these years?"
I nodded and his face lit up so brilliantly that I didn't need light to see how thrilled he was. His reaction to my confession said everything, but I still needed to hear it before we went any further. And I wasn't even shocked to realize that I did actually want to go further, very much so.
Art, however, had far more innocent intentions on his mind. Instead, Art suddenly pulled me so that I was now straddling his waist, my legs on either side of his hips. One of his arms came up under my shirt on my back and pushed me down until our lips met again. And he kissed me with so much passion and obvious love that I felt tears falling from my eyes onto his cheeks before realizing I was even crying.
His other arm wrapped tightly around my waist, then he lifted his hips up into mine in an unconscious desire to be even closer to me. I gasped loudly and he made a low groaning sound that shook into me so violently that I was literally shaking on top of him.
"Oh, god, I'm shaking," I said as he broke away from our kiss.
"I fucking love you, Tess," Art practically growled into my ear before giving me another passionate kiss, making me cry out. I raked my nails down his arms to his hands which were rubbing my belly and ribs. "I thought you knew, that you could tell, and I thought I took too long and was too late..."
His voice was hoarse and I figured it was from all the kissing so when I grabbed his face in my hands and forced him to look at me, I was shocked to see that he was crying.
"Oh, Art..." My lip quivered and the words I wanted to say to him couldn't make it through the lump in my throat. Not after seeing how red and wet his eyes were, and all the feelings he had for me were unmasked and written across his whole face. "Do you... that much?" I managed to choke out.
A tear fell from his eye before he closed them and buried his head into my neck, wetting my skin with his tears, but making no sound. He nodded as both his arms wrapped around my middle, his hands trapped between my back and his bed. It was overwhelming, to say the least, as I had no idea just how much he felt for me.
I knew what I felt for him, but to see and feel him like this, broken down with emotion, set me off and I cried openly with so much joy and relief. We clung to each other; my legs around his waist, and my hands on his lower back pulled him as close as I could as we cried softly together.
We cried tears of joy for a while longer before finally drifting to sleep. Within the hold of the person we were so madly in love with.