She was perfection.
Everything she said, every gag she pulled, every time she smiled, anything she wore, every lame joke she told, every time she feigned anger, all the times she forgave him, every time she teased, all the ways she showed her care, every note she wrote, any story she told, every tune she hummed, any color she painted her toenails, all the ways she understood, every hair on her head, any time of the day. Even the way she ate. Always the way she smelled.
She knew him. Every lame joke he told, every stunt he pulled, every one of his shy smiles, every time he teased, every band he loved, any time he was bullshitting, every time he struggled with his words, every one of his favorite drinks, all the reasons why he acted "that way", every time he put up his fronts, any excuse he gave, all the ways he spoke without saying a word, every look in his eyes, all the times he needed to be alone, any mood he was in. Even the way he was "such a guy”. Always the way he cared.
He couldn’t stand couples. He couldn’t stand relationships. He couldn’t stand the idea of marriage. Why tie yourself down? (And tie yourself down to the same person?) Why lose yourself to somebody else? He hated the thought of settling down. He hated the thought of settling.
But then he thought of her. And he knew that every doubt could be laid to rest, every risk should be taken, every battle was worth fighting. He knew that there was every reason to lose himself if he could find her, if he could be with her.
And then he remembered. He remembered the ring on her finger. He remembered him. He remembered that she was perfection that didn’t belong to him in every way, in any way. He had known from the start. But he had chosen to lose himself anyway.
How could he explain it? She only had to be who she was and every hope, every desire, every tomorrow, every reason, every pain, every joy was wrapped up in her. And even if her every smile and every part could never belong to him, he could forgive himself. Because she would always be worth it.
Everything she said, every gag she pulled, every time she smiled, anything she wore, every lame joke she told, every time she feigned anger, all the times she forgave him, every time she teased, all the ways she showed her care, every note she wrote, any story she told, every tune she hummed, any color she painted her toenails, all the ways she understood, every hair on her head, any time of the day. Even the way she ate. Always the way she smelled.
She knew him. Every lame joke he told, every stunt he pulled, every one of his shy smiles, every time he teased, every band he loved, any time he was bullshitting, every time he struggled with his words, every one of his favorite drinks, all the reasons why he acted "that way", every time he put up his fronts, any excuse he gave, all the ways he spoke without saying a word, every look in his eyes, all the times he needed to be alone, any mood he was in. Even the way he was "such a guy”. Always the way he cared.
He couldn’t stand couples. He couldn’t stand relationships. He couldn’t stand the idea of marriage. Why tie yourself down? (And tie yourself down to the same person?) Why lose yourself to somebody else? He hated the thought of settling down. He hated the thought of settling.
But then he thought of her. And he knew that every doubt could be laid to rest, every risk should be taken, every battle was worth fighting. He knew that there was every reason to lose himself if he could find her, if he could be with her.
And then he remembered. He remembered the ring on her finger. He remembered him. He remembered that she was perfection that didn’t belong to him in every way, in any way. He had known from the start. But he had chosen to lose himself anyway.
How could he explain it? She only had to be who she was and every hope, every desire, every tomorrow, every reason, every pain, every joy was wrapped up in her. And even if her every smile and every part could never belong to him, he could forgive himself. Because she would always be worth it.
