Chapter Text
She shows me in the way she moves. In public or otherwise, her body is naturally inclined in my direction at all times, as if trying to non-verbally express how I always have her attention. She goes out of her way to be close to me, in subtle, comforting ways. Whether it’s holding my hand from across a table or giving my arm a reassuring squeeze whilst she lays her head on my shoulder. She’s mindful of the little things like that.
She expresses it in her commitment to me. Not only in mind and heart, but also in her undying loyalty to everything I have to offer her. She once told me that she refuses to drink any cup of tea that wasn’t made by me.
‘It just tastes better when you make it.’ She shrugs. Not truly understanding the weight behind her words.
She shows me unconsciously. Literally. Without conscious intention, she yearns for my embrace. Just to feel my presence. And the way in which she seeks it out is so trivial in nature but so meaningful in actuality.
She has always been a heavy sleeper. Once she’s out, not even the biggest of catastrophe’s could begin to rouse her from her slumber. Yet somehow, without fail, every night that she falls asleep before I join her in bed, she reaches for me. I slide in beside her, and it takes only a few short seconds before she blindly reaches out in search of skin. Contact. Comfort. All in the deepest of sleeps, she pulls me towards her and buries her face in the crook of my neck, sighing contentedly. It’s always in the little things.
She shows me in how she speaks of me. Most would become bashful at the notion of gushing about their other half so unflinchingly. So... honestly. But she never holds back. Even when I’m sat right beside her, she seems to get lost in her opinion of me.
‘Yang could probably help you, she’s always been good at that.’
‘You should have seen what Yang did yesterday, it was the cutest thing...’
‘I’m so proud of her, she’s been working so hard.’
‘She’s way too good to me, I know. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’
She speaks so simply. So nonchalantly. As if the things she speaks of are the most obvious thing in the world. As if it is truly unbelievable that anyone would think otherwise. It’s what I love most about her. When she’s passionate about something... there’s nothing that could sway her conviction.
She shows me in the way she tends to me. After a long day at work, all it takes is for me to walk through the door before she’s fussing over me. When a day has been particularly long and draining, she’s offering to give me a massage, or run me a bath. When I’m excited and overjoyed by a days events, she’s more than willing to pop a bottle of champagne and celebrate alongside me.
A few years back when I destroyed my knee in a motorcycle accident, she waited on me tooth and nail, rubbing balm into the joint, and humming softly to alleviate the pain and frustration. Whenever I wasn’t in the best of moods because of it, she’d always diffuse my anger by offering me her company, and her refuge. She makes me feel safe.
Whenever she has to leave earlier than me for work, she always makes sure to tuck me back in and leave a kiss searing on my forehead. She could be running late, and in the biggest of rushes, but she always takes those few seconds to ensure my comfort.
God, I’m so lucky.
Most of all, she shows me in how she looks at me. Whether she thinks I’m not looking or is just unashamed of expressing her affection is always a mystery to me. With friends, family, in a crowded room of strangers or coworkers, you name it. At some point or another, her loving gaze is fixated on me, attentively. Maybe she doesn’t even realise she’s doing it. Maybe it’s just second nature. I’ll never know. But I’ll also never forget how it makes me feel to be the object of such careful attention. What made me so special to be so deserving of such silent praise?
When I catch her every now and then, she’d just smirk, knowingly, daring me to look away. And when I do... she makes that little giggle that I’m so fond of, before jumping back into the conversation, as if she never left it. She is selfish in her love. And I am selfish in my requisition of it. We just can’t get enough of each other.
She loves me out of the pure fact that it makes her happy to love me. Like she couldn’t imagine herself behaving any other way. Like she couldn’t imagine not having me to bear her soul, her mind and her heart to. There is so much beauty in the way she loves me.
She shows me in all these ways, consistently. But when she does say those three little words. Whether it be mid-conversation, out of the blue, or just whenever she deems appropriate. It takes my breath away all over again.
Because at the end of the day, I’m the only one who has the pleasure of saying,
‘I love you too.’