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XX
"What does it mean to love someone with all your heart?
It means to love with all your emotional feelings and with all your devotion."
- Ezra Taft Benson
XX
When he holds her, it's as if he never wants to let her go.
Gentle droplets fall down in a quiet torrent, slowly forming pools of puddles beneath their feet while silence permeates the air. The warmth of his chest, hers pressed into his draws a rosy pink to her cheeks as the sound of his heartbeat thumps against her ears. Slow and rhythmic, a soothing balm to errant thoughts.
Long, slim fingers curve around her knuckle; a thumb stroking the top lightly before moving to open her palm. A light tilt upwards, and he leans down to press a kiss downward - first on her palm, then brushes his lips over the ridges of her knuckles in a caress.
To a passer-by, it would be as if they were intruding on a private moment.
To an artist, it is a painting. Of easy affection and soft, quiet love of the gentlest yet utter devotion.
A hum of contentment leaves her in a quiet exhale, the week's tension draining from her shoulders as she leaned into him, into the comfort of his embrace.
It's nice, like this. Veiled by rain, the light of spring gradually piercing through the clouds to engulf the surroundings in hues of yellows and oranges while slight shadows play about. The lush, vibrant sea of green dotted with colours beneath their feet.
In a world of their own, a solitude tailored to them and them alone.
The silence between them is an easy, comfortable one. She twines her fingers with his, her own eyes meeting his blue ones with playful, yet utter affection. Love. The edges of his lips quirk up in a smile, one that softens the edges of mystery and washes over his typical indifference.
His reply does not come in words, but rather a soft chuckle that makes her smile in return before pulling her closer such that no space was between them.
It's a little game of theirs, really.
Sunlight falls, threading gold into ash blonde and illuminating the azure blue of his irises. Highlights his tall, lean frame, perfectly attired in a white long-sleeved shirt that somewhat hides well-defined muscles and black pants.
It reminds her of the sky, despite the hint of grey. The grey would become a storm of steel though, upon the merest hint of danger - accompanied by a flashing blade of light materializing in his hands.
This isn't one of those times though. This is just them, alone.
The calloused hands, used to protect, well-capable of killing holds her tightly yet firmly, an anchor tethering her to safety. Is her respite, her love and tenderly holds all that she is.
A blow of air tickles her ear, pulling a startled gasp and surprised eyes. A half-hearted frown crosses her face and she lightly thwacks him on the shoulder; though an unwilling smile breaks through.
His face is unrepentant, however. Instead, it’s alight with mirth and a crooked smile. It’s rare that he smiles like that. Whenever he does, she feels as if she’s won a lucky prize. She loves him like this the most, she thinks.
The unrestrained adoration in his eyes though… it always takes her breath away. Oh, he is unfettered steel and a harbinger of destruction when it comes to Wanderers, but to her…
She pokes him in the shoulder in retaliation, affecting a pout this time.
A mock-frown flashes, and before she knows it, he’s tickling her sides. Laughter spills through the air as he does, breaking the silence - unhindered in its joy.
It is a few seconds before he releases her from his clutches, mischief and fondness in his gaze as he pulls her up to stand. Helps to steady her on her feet. Tugs her in further so that she doesn’t get wet from the rain, and they settle down beside a wooden pillar.
A light tug, and she’s snuggled against him again, an arm wrapped around her waist while they repick up the pieces of their vigil from the moment before.
Resting her head on his shoulder, she idly traces circles in his open palm while they watched.
Watch as the rain slows, as oranges and yellows become streaked with pink. Turns into twilight. As the veil of grey recedes, allowing dusk to fully take hold. For a sea of twinkling gems to illuminate the nightsky, along with the stunning full moon.
It’s fascinating, really, the contrast in how Xavier’s appearance is depending on the time of day.
Under the moonlight, his jaw seems sharper, more defined. The tall slope of his nose, the refined cheekbones… how the grey of his irises seem more especially prominent, adding to an aloofness, a mystery to him.
And not only that, but his ash blonde hair seems almost platinum, if not translucent.
A light nudge brings her out of her reverie. Concern is in his eyes.
He raises an eyebrow in question, silently asking if everything is okay. If she is okay.
This – this right here, is another reason why she so utterly adores him. Loves him with every single breath in her body, all that she is and more. The unconditional love and perceptive concern; how he asks her if she is okay with sweet gestures.
Because sometimes, it isn’t that she can’t talk. It’s because that she can’t find the words to. Because -
How do you do so when you’re not sure where to start?
Her gaze is fond, loving as she returns his gaze and squeezes his hand in reassurance, intertwines their fingers again, presses a kiss to his cheek.
His muscles relax. Tension drains from his body while he shifts a little such that she’s more comfortable.
And there they sit, together. Quietly, beneath the tender light of the moon as they while the time away. All that matters is they are together.
Sometimes, reality is cruel. Sometimes life is cruel. But then there are moments like these, where you carve your own solitude into time and space, etch your imprints into the fabric of time. With those whom you love, utterly and completely.
The chaos of life can wait.
This is their moment.
This is them.
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This is us.
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