It feels weird that I'm so comfortable with Phil after only bring his boyfriend since yesterday, and I've literally moved some of my stuff into his house, but I've definitely loved him a lot longer than the amount of time we've been boyfriends, and I'd like to think he's the same.
We pull the thick duvet over us, and I wrap my arms around Phil's waist, my head on his chest. I feel as his chest rises and falls with every breath, and he plays with my hair a little, the flowers still in there, which is probably a bad thing.
"You want me to take these out?"
"Yeah, okay," I answer with a yawn on the end.
He begins to carefully unwind the flowers from my hair and pull them out, placing them on the side. I'm too tired to comprehend most of what's going on, but I do feel him run his hand through my curls once he finishes removing all of the flowers.
"I love you," He says, placing a kiss on the top of my head. "And I mean it."
"I love you too, and I mean that," I say with a tired giggle, my eyes fluttering and struggling to stay open, but I look up at him through half lidded eyes. "I love you a fucking lot."
"Did you just-"
"Yes, because I mean it."
"How is it that you can swear at me and make me feel like the most special person alive?"
"Because you are the most special person alive, at least you are to me."