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What a day.
I loathed it from the beginning! It had been fucking awful since the morning and it just had gotten worse with every bloody minute.
It was one of those days that you just want to kick out of pure hate. That make you angrier as you go and that make you want to shove the whole damn thing down the next toilet to just flush it. To make it go away as thoroughly as you can to never ever think of it again.
Nothing helps on such days. Music to calm down or to relax or even to scream with it to get out all of the anger just makes you even angrier. The things you do happen to go wrong and because you get more pissed with every situation it only gets worse. Logically. But explain logic to temper. It’s a fucking waste of time. And since you’re in some fucking dark mood anyway everything is just a fucking disaster. All of it.
It is like being in love and everything seems pretty and wonderful and sparkling and shit. Every tiny thing remembers you of this special someone and makes the world into a fluffy, cosy place up on cloud whatever that makes you smile like a bloody lunatic. It’s exactly like that… just that it isn’t and everything is simply fucking reminding you of that fucking shithole you find yourself being in.
My grumpy side, never much gone to begin with, didn't really improve my situation. Quite on the contrary. Because you see… sometimes, people can actually pull you up onto your feet when you are feeling down.
Just that in my particular case, I tend to scare people away because of that. It’s my nature – I can’t help it. No excuses there, but still… it wasn't helping. At all.
Did I already mention that this day happened to be shitty from the second I woke up?
It was way too early. Everything before 9 or even 10 am usually is, the night owl that I am, but that particular day it was a fucking late October day and work had been piling up. Like every year around that time. So the alarm clock on my nightstand was set to 7 am… another fucking night shift ahead of me, even if I had stopped working the night before around 2 am or something even later because I just had to finish something while I already almost sleep-drooled onto my keyboard.
Yes, hand me some work and I can turn into a fucking dog not wanting to let go of its bloody bone. I go through with it until everything is done, even if it is beyond reason to work yourself to insomnia, because – let’s face it, old man – work doesn’t actually improve when you’ve been sitting at it for 14 hours straight without rest, food, or even some sleep. It literally makes you not to see the wood for the trees.
But well. That’s me.
And I had been having a rather lousy day.
So my alarm clock was set to 7 am. Too early for me as it is but I even woke up almost an hour before that because Mister Darcy, my precious cat, apparently had thought it would be fun to suffocate on a fur ball or something to wake me up instantly.
It couldn’t have been Lizzy because she was resting next to me, woken up by her fluffy friend as well.
The sound that a cat makes when it is choking on something or coughing is not a delight. It is loud and obnoxious and somewhere between “Please someone help me, my darling cat is dying right now what should I do? Seriously. Help me!” and “Oh my god, I don’t care how, but please just make it stop!”
Latter especially in the middle of the night after too few hours of precious sleep.
So yes, it was a crappy morning. It turned out to be even more fun when I noticed the fresh, warm goo on my floor wasn’t a common hair ball or some cat food or a regular blade of grass which my tomcat just seemed to love to swallow in one piece only to spit it out with other yummy stuff… it was some yellow foam. Shit.
Please don’t get sick on me. Not now. Not today. Never really, because I adore to death, you but today? Please no!
“Mister Darcy?” I finally spotted him on the sofa, curled up and snuggled to the arm rest. 6.20 am. Usually his time to stroll around.
Yes I like to sleep late but of course I know what the cats that I have been living with for over 10 years now, are usually doing in the morning.
Not good.
“Hey, big guy.” I went to him after swiping the floor. “Are you all right?”
I checked his eyes, ears and nose. Not much to see as far as I could tell, but I decided to keep an eye on him.
And since I was wide awake now anyway, I decided to make my morning tea and go to work with a heavy sigh.
Another heavy sigh escaped my chest as I realised that my matcha powder was empty. Fuck. But yes, that’s right. I had wanted to work late yesterday and decided to keep me awake with it… and used it up completely. It hadn’t been the best matcha anyway I guess, but still. It had helped. And now it was gone.
An almost desperate search through my pantry revealed a rest of Assam and I settled with that one. Not my first choice in the morning, but well… beggars can’t be choosers.
Naturally, the work I had done this night turned out to be utter nonsense. Great! It had taken me more time than usually, because I had been tired as fuck and concentration had been almost non-existent after midnight.
How I hate it when deadlines change to my discomfort because the clients just don’t seem to care to know how printers work. “Oh, the production takes six whole weeks? Well WE didn’t know that! We need it for Christmas… Make it work!”
Fucking stupid people making my life harder just out of ignorance or for the fun of it. Not that I had other projects to work on as well.
Okay. Maybe the invested hours this night haven’t been a total waste of time. I managed to do something at least and if I just make a few minor changes…
I let work sweep me away from reality for a while, the pot of freshly brewed tea on my desk, and the caffeine truly helped me a bit to cope with being awake.
It was a little after seven when I heard a knock on my door, disturbing my thoughts and being just a little bit too loud. The jingling sound of keys followed and I sighed, before I stood up to get fetch another cup of tea.
“Good morning, Biscuit! Already at work?” The pet name she chose this morning made me roll my eyes. She had been having a major Ally McBeal phase a few years back and sometimes she has a big relapse. I prepared myself to be hit with a random Fishism…
“Hanji.” I managed to mumble. “Yeah. Darcy woke me up. Puked some yellow foam.”
“Crap. Is he okay?”
A sigh. “Hope so, but I don’t know yet… Tea?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
I poured her a cup and we sat down at the table in the living room. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“Nothing. I’ll just go to pick up some stuff one the way, I’ve got to be early today.”
This finally managed to wake me up. More than the tea could manage. “Don’t bullshit me, Hanji. We both know you won’t. You always forget…”
“I can’t help it. And I’ve really got to leave soon. I’ve got a study on monkeys… it’s marvellous.”
She and her passion for studying brains.
These early hours really never help my drowsiness, not even with the whole pot of Assam and the concern for my friend (or cat). But my feet stumbled into the kitchen somehow to grab an apple and a glass of yoghurt, that originally was planned to be my lunch or late breakfast and I handed it to her.
“Here,” I scowled. “Or else you’ll starve on me, shitty glasses.”
“I love you too.” Her voice was already muffled by the apple she somehow inhaled within seconds, core included.
“Tch.” I would have to go bloody grocery shopping today, I thought. But it still was better than worrying about her all day long. If she actually would eat the yoghurt as well was another question entirely but as least she had something with her now… “Some days I really wish you weren’t alone. I hate seeing you fasting accidentally all the time.”
“Everyone is alone, Levi. It’s just easier in a relationship.” She shrugged her shoulders with a proud look on her face.
And there it was, my first Fishism of the day. Well, I guess I did that to myself. And at least it was one of the less creepy ones.
“And I’ve still got you, haven’t I?” Hanji concluded. She already was back on her feet again. How she manages to drink hot tea without giving it time to cool down first will always be a mystery to me. “Got to go.”
“Need anything? I’ll go shopping later.”
“Tea?”
“Why? You always scrunch my supplies anyway.”
“Yes, but not always. And I need more caffeine…”
“Okay. What kind?”
“Surprise me.” She said with a beam.
“Whatever.”
She almost was at the door already as she turned around with a wave of her arms, making her almost stumble out of nowhere. “Oh, that’s right, I’ve been wanting to tell you. There’s a new tea shop around the corner. I pass it every day on my way to work. Don’t know if it’s good but it seems very British. Maybe it would be nice to have a look at it? Good old memories and stuff.”
Yes, we are from England. London actually. We have been missing it from time to time, ever since we moved to Germany. Sometimes even too much. And even if we don’t especially have beloved family over there we mostly don’t make it two years without visiting the country. The home sickness is just too big.
I sighed. “Okay. But it depends on whether it is on my way. Where is it?”
“Maria Straße… 100-something I guess? Just a few footsteps away really.”
“Tch. We’ll see if I can make it.”
She knew I would try. “Splendid. But now I’ll have to go. Cute monkeys are waiting.”
“Lunatic.”
“Midget.” Everybody else I might have killed for that comment. But from her it is almost a declaration of affection, so I let it go.
Hanji left and I was alone again, only with my two cats as company. And Mister Darcy still hadn’t moved. Not good.
I tried to go back to work, only to find a few messages in my mailbox that made my rage rise up instantly.
The clients wanted to have “minor changes” in the project. Just to see how it worked of course. Something like changing the background colour from paper, meaning white, to black. Not a small thing. At all.
I cursed silently but very passionately as I read the mail that was filled with stuff like that. Even more work hours ahead. And we would have to finish the whole thing until tonight. Not possible.
Splendid. Just bloody fucking splendid. I reached for the phone to call them. Stupid mails, in which you can’t express anything important, and if they can write to me this fucking early I also can call them. The pressure on this project was up anyway.
The conversation was an experience for itself. I tried my best to stay calm, and somehow I managed to pull through. The knowledge that at least this project would have to be out of my hand until tonight because the printer was waiting for it, helped a lot. Final spurt, I kept on telling me. Final spurt!
Of course they weren’t aware of the fact that changing the bloody whole background of a 64 page project wouldn’t be a quick or even easy thing to do if you wanted it to be good in the end.
Of course they weren’t aware of the fact that using another font would indeed look different but would be a pain in the arse to change on such short notice, because the words would run differently… not even given the fact that we had some more major issues to finish first. Like corrections. What would be their job to do. Not mine.
We finally settled on the solution that they would provide me with the corrections this morning (finally!) and I sent them the draft as it was again, including the pages I had layouted this night. Not that I told them that last part. They wouldn’t have to know about my working hours.
The outcome of the conversation had not really calmed me down but at least it hadn’t made my mood worse. Not until Mister Darcy hopped from the sofa to puke a second time this morning… right onto the bloody coffee table.
Shit. This would mean a visit at the vet, if this would keep going on.
I started to get worried. And Lizzy sniffling curiously first on the spit and then on her four-pawed companion himself didn’t help. I patted his head in concern, only to realise that his ears were exceptionally hot by now.
Fuck.
I tried to calm down and wanted to call the vet. I couldn’t do anything more on the urgent project now anyway. Not until I got the corrections from my clients and further instructions on the layout.
A quick look at the watch told me the vet wouldn’t have opened yet. Fuck. So I settled on the food test for now. Canned tuna is always yummy and a treat, maybe he would eat it and relax me a bit.
No tuna in the house anymore… Blimey, what a shitty morning!
And just then the signal on my computer told me I had gotten a new email. It was from my clients – luckily earlier than expected but full of little changes. Luckily – again – only really small ones in the text this time. The rest seemed to be okay. What a relief! Even if I couldn’t really look at the document anymore. By now it felt like a dream you couldn’t wake up from.
I’ve always truly, honestly loved my work. But on some days…
I got sucked back in again and it was about late noon when I was finally finished and my clients called me back with their feedback.
Suddenly there didn’t have to be any changes anymore; the whole document was fine and even my late-night work that I felt almost ashamed of (I knew I could have done it much better with more time) got approved and we actually managed to roll the whole thing up for the printer around the early afternoon.
The wonders that pressure of time can do… Surprisedly everything was going so quickly suddenly. Astonishing!
Still there were other projects that needed to be done. Urgently.
And still Mister Darcy seemed so gloomy that it physically hurt me as well.
I sighed. I knew I needed a break, so I took my coat – screw this cold temperatures that already seemed to have their grip on us these days – fetched my keys and bags and went shopping. Fortunately I indeed had a car so I didn’t have to carry everything home on foot. I usually fed a small family (me and Hanji who eats for at least two, if not three or four when she forgets to snack at work again) so I was always fully packed afterwards every single time.
That day they were out of the good tuna and out of cleaning supplies as well. Which I needed. Crucially. For actual cleaning as well as for calming down during said process.
Fuck this shit! Couldn’t anything go as planned or even hoped today?!
It was around half past 4 pm when I arrived back home again and I decided to put the new tea shop to a test. I had just stored away my new purchases and wiped away another puddle of yellow foam. A call at the vet after Mister Darcy managed to swallow some tuna, told me to stay calm for now; maybe it was just an upset stomach. If that would have been the case the whole adventure with the cat carrier and a stressful trip would be unnecessary and even disturbing. But we still made an appointment for tomorrow morning, just to be safe, and we also agreed on me bringing the cat over today already if things would get worse. Even spontaneously.
Fortunately I could work from home office and had a better eye on him this way.
First however I wanted to go to buy the tea for Hanji. I needed new matcha for myself as well but even if the ones that the tea shops sold here were okay most of the time they still weren’t as good as I would have wished them to be. So it would be wiser to just order online.
I put my shoes back on and checked on both of my cats… no more puking at least for now and even averagely-warm ears… and stepped out of the building.
I realised suddenly I hadn’t eaten all day. Not good. It tends to make me grumpy. Even more than usual and this particular day had been like an emotional roller-coaster to hell. I should have eaten something at least. No wonder that my mood didn’t lighten up. But well, at least Hanji was fed if she managed to remind herself of the supplies I gave her that morning. She needed it more than me. And for later I was planning on making spaghetti for the both of us. Maybe with simple sausage meatballs or something.
My footsteps led me to an old freestone building. It didn’t really look that inviting to me at the first sight. A Union Jack was waving in front of a door and made my home sickness bubble up even more than it already had – the next visit to England had been way overdue –, and the windows that were very low, implicated a shop that was almost in a cellar.
Bloody Hanji. What did she think in recommending such a hideous place?
I scowled, trying to decide if I should enter or just let it be. And noticed that I was being watched. A woman inside was looking at me with a curious frown, standing next to someone I couldn’t identify properly from this angle… Well… better get it over with, I guessed. I was there now anyway, so I also could step in.
You already know where this part of my story is going to lead to, don't you, love?
A cheerful bell on the door announced my entry and despite my prejudices the whole place seemed oddly bright, friendly, and inviting. Cosy.
“Hello,” I was greeted cautiously by the woman I had spotted before. “How can we help you?”
The first thought that shot through my head was coming here today had been a mistake. I was so not in the mood for talking. People can be fucking annoying sometimes.
“I would like some tea. Whatever you recommend. I don’t really care what kind.”
“Okay. But it would be a great help to know what you usually prefer so we can come up with a better choice for you.” Her voice suddenly had a cool undertone as if to challenge me.
As I know today… I really had been quite rude. My frown surely didn't help either. And Mikasa, still new to the business back then, was still struggling with the temper of her own. But on that day I just thought well, I can play this pretty staring game as well.
So I glared up at her, trying to win this self-imposed contest. Why did she have to be of a fucking average hight and hence taller than me like almost everybody else? “It is for a friend, so, like I already said. I don’t mind.” I wanted to add something. A threat or I didn’t know what myself but I got interrupted before I could come up with anything good.
“Mikasa, I’m sorry, but could you come here for a second, please? I need you in the back,” called a way too cheerful man from behind… and it was just then that I noticed the British accent in their German. It calmed me a bit. Only hell knows why. Maybe it was the first nice thing that happened to me today since Hanji had called me midget this morning.
“Your friend,” a second man speaking to me in another slightly but nevertheless audibly broken German pulled me out of my thoughts again. “Do you happen to know which kind of tea he likes?” His voice sounded warm and almost like a bit of sunshine for my ears.
Yes. It was you. Of course it was.
You know that part already, don’t you, love?
You stood behind your tasting counter, looking at me curiously, almost aware. And I was so deeply lost in thought that I didn’t see it right away. I didn’t notice that from this moment on everything would be different. You remember my words from above about being in love with someone makes you think about them all the time? Exactly…
Since Hanji had said she wanted to be surprised I answered you honestly. “Mostly everything if it is good.” I didn’t correct you on the gender part. In my mind it was not really important to this conversation anyway.
“Okay,” you replied. “What about an Earl Grey tea with dried orange rind? I just brewed it for our customers if you would like to try it.”
That sounded well enough. Still, even if the prospect of trying tea before buying it first appeared to be a good and positively surprising one, it had been a rough day and conversation really was the least I was searching for.
But your offer had a certain ring to it, so I gave in with a sigh, took off my coat and sat down on one of the bar stools in front of you. My frown did not go away as I spotted the English china. The tacky one with the flowers, a lot of pink and golden ornaments around the rims. The Royal Albert Collection… you know what I am talking about. Your whole shop is full of this china and it is what makes it so special.
So it honestly was not like the china was bad. It was authentic and very British and on every other day I wouldn’t have minded so much.
On that day however it suddenly reminded me of all the hideous afternoon teas with my awful aunt who had liked to pinch my cheek all the time. She also used to torture me with meals out of tasteless carrots and dry meat that had been cooked to death to make me ‘grow tall and strong like all the other good boys'.
Well… at least I had managed the strong part, I thought. I had to. I had family to protect.
The simple, plain, white cup without a handle that was placed in front of me disrupted my thoughts once again and instantly eased me up. You always seemed to know what I needed – right from the very start.
To me this gesture was like I finally had found someone who made this shitty day at least a little less bloody awful. And the steam rising from the cup smelled delightful, calming, and comforting. I took a sip… and was surprised.
It was delicious!
Well, you know that. You three only sell the good stuff. Always have, always will.
But back then it took me off guard. Praise – whoever responsible – for this turn of events! Probably Hanji, because she suggested to go here. I felt my whole body ease up.
I even managed a tiny little smile of relief, gratitude, or whatever you might want to call it.
And since I was almost out of tea at home anyway I knew I would definitely take a portion of this one back with me. It was just too tasty! You really got me hooked right from the beginning.
“That actually is quite a good tea. I think, I will take it. And an additional bag for myself, if you don’t mind.”
You suddenly looked like a stalemated rabbit and stammered a bit as you answered. “A-alright. Sure.” I found it sweet.
And I wondered what a strange man you’d have to be, staying so calm at my scowl but acting all weird when I decided to let it go and was polite instead.
“How much would you like me to fill up for you?” You asked.
I knew that if this afternoon tea was good already, you’d probably had more around here. So I decided to come back soon to try more. Maybe I would even take Hanji right with me as soon as things calmed down a bit at work. I thought she would like this place.
“Make it 50 g each, please.” And now I spotted the plate with the biscuits in front of me and noticed the golden colour that promised Heaven on earth. “Is this shortbread?”
“Yes.” You replied. “It is handmade by a family business in Scotland. Please help yourself if you’d like.”
I happily obliged and fuck!… these damn biscuits were amazing. You know that as well. The mere fact that you like to spoil me with them is proof enough for that.
Back then I felt them crumble on my palate and it was like eating droplets of pure happiness. I cursed at my bloody weakness for short pastry, but that day I didn’t really care. I let myself relax completely and enjoyed the combined effect of warming tea, calming butter, satisfying carbs, and strengthening sugar.
“Anything else you might want?” You asked again with that warm voice of yours and I decided to finally and truly look up this time.
That’s when my world as I knew it came to a halt.
Your big, wonderful eyes in that stunning green-and-blue turquoise mix met mine, encircled by your kind and pleasant features and that crown of brown, ruffled hair which looked endearingly cute and sexy as fuck. I wondered if it always looked like that and how it would feel like if I ran my fingers through it or grabbed it to pull you closer into a kiss.
Now I know that it does indeed always look like this. I also know what it looks like after we made love. Or how untidy it is in the mornings, when it’s tousled even more. I also know how it feels like… so soft.
I also know how even more beautiful it is when the sun enlightens it or when it is decorated with glistening snowflakes. Or how you always ask the hairdresser to cut it not too short because you love it when I mess it up with my hands.
I took in your whole figure. You seemed to be slender and not too tall. I realised instantly you would have to be the perfect size for me to rest my head on your strong shoulders.
Your voice was washing over me with this wonderful reminder of home. And a certain ring to it touched something deep inside of me.
What a beautiful man!
Yes, love. You are beautiful.
And your question if I might want anything else still rang in my ear.
Yes, I would like you to take home with me, please, shot through my mind, instantly followed by stupid old man! He means tea, you pathetic moron. He is a bloody vendor, he almost has to ask.
The knowledge that you had similar thoughts on your mind makes me feel stupid by now. And blind.
Back then I only thought lets try how he likes my smile, as I answered “two boxes of this shortbread, that’s for sure.”
“Great,” you almost squealed. It sounded tantalising.
You continued to appear nervous and I was sure I spotted a very slight blush on your cheeks. Bloody hell, that was gorgeous!
I found myself kind of trapped. I had never really been into one night stands and hadn’t been blessed with the best dates in humanity’s history. Quite on the contrary. Especially the last one had damaged me enough to make me want to avoid any intimate contact whatsoever. I have told you about it. You know it. So instead of asking you out right on the spot as a freaking sane person would have done I felt a paralysing fright creep up inside of me.
Social awkwardness had always been my hated companion from time to time. And when it came to relationships in particular, it sadly seemed to never be gone completely. You changed that for me. And I love you for that.
Still I wanted to dig a bit deeper for now. Just to see how this would go.
“So. You’re not from here, are you?” Yes, I was stating the obvious – what a smart way to go. But it seemed to be a nice ice breaker and I wanted to hear more of your voice. It made that whole day better and almost worth it.
“No, we grew up in England. Near London?”
Home. So nice, I thought. “All three of you?”
“Y-yes.”
I decided to switch from the German in which we had been talking to each other until then, to English, and hoped that you wouldn’t mind. “What a nice surprise. It really is a small world.”
If I wouldn’t have been so afraid I would have recognised your reaction for what it was. Your eyes got even bigger, the pupils dilated slightly and you froze for a second. Your blush was enhancing a bit and the sight shot right into my heart. But I didn't listen to it. I was too busy with myself.
DANGER! Don’t you dare old man…
That were my thoughts. What they meant I didn’t see. Not from the start.
“Oh… you’re from London as well?” You inquired curiously. And your London dialect was breathtaking. I wanted to drown in it and tried to ignore the alarming sirens in my head.
“Yes. I’ve been living here for over 20 years by now. Time flies.”
“Which district?” Damn that cheerful ring in your voice. I fell in love with it right then and there. I got the feeling that you liked to laugh and longed for hearing it with my own ears.
“Croydon. Norbury…?”
“Norbury! That’s lovely. They’ve got a great park there.”
Your answer surprised me a bit. “You know it?”
“Yeah, we went there a few times to visit family.”
As you know we soon found ourselves in a pleasant conversation about England, London in particular, and tea of course. Somehow talking to you was relaxing and easy… I wanted to listen to you all day long.
When I randomly mentioned my current need for matcha you grinned – god you really are gorgeous!
Are you even aware of the effect your smile has on me?
As you came back from the adjacent room with two bags of matcha you explained the difference before I happily settled for the high quality one. I knew the tea would be amazing, I just did. And I was looking forward to the first cup, glad about the fact that apparently I would never have to order my matcha supplies online any longer.
And I wanted to kiss you, you know? So badly. Why didn’t I?
After a short while we were joined by your family. They introduced themselves as Mikasa, and Armin, before you mentioned your name was Eren.
“Eren.” I instantly wanted to try your name as if to claim it as my own. It felt almost too comfortable to say it out loud. “Nice to meet you, I’m Levi.”
“Hi Levi,” you answered and damn it… Hearing my name from your lips was like you just had reached out and pressed a button somewhere deep in my gut. Or just punched my stomach and left it all churning. My whole body heated up and a trail of goosebumps creeped down my neck. It’s been like this ever since.
It was as if I would bathe in a tub of sweet fuzziness, being shocked, and licked all over at the same time. And for a second, I swore, my mind went blank.
My hand snatched forward for another piece of soothing shortbread.
I really went through a lot of that in these first years, didn’t I? Sometimes I wonder why you didn’t hide them from me eventually.
But you never did. I even have the suspicion you always made sure to reserve me some. I even would go so far as to accuse you to conveniently 'happen to open' the exact right brand of my favourite kind of biscuits whenever you saw me step in.
On this day however you smiled kindly and said “welcome to our Tearoom. Nice to meet you too.”
- - -
Yes, Eren, my love. This is how we met.
And now I am sitting here, trying to think about what to write for our wedding vows. But all I honestly can think about is how I hate doing this. Not because I don’t want to. Not at all. But because it means for the both of us to spend even more time apart from each other than we already have. Doing secret things. Only for some words on a piece of paper that don’t mean as much as actions anways.
I wish I would have been braver that day we met. Or on the next visit. Or on the one after that.
I wish I would have found the courage inside of me to just ask you out. It would have given both of us so much more time together. More wonderful morning cuddles and shared evenings. Not to mention precious free days and Sundays with just being with each other. How much I enjoy every single moment with you.
I wish I would have listened to Hanji who kept on telling me to just give up my worries after she had seen how I was looking at you. Of course she noticed it from the second I first dragged her along with me and we stepped into your shop. She knows me too well. And I should listen to her way more often. She mostly is right when it comes to me.
But no. I didn’t listen to her. Instead I waited. And with every opportunity that I let pass by it had become harder to ask. More awkward.
Maybe, if that day hadn’t been that bad,…
Maybe, if that particular day hadn’t been the start of Mister Darcy’s illness that led to his death only a few and short months later…
Maybe if that whole damn winter wouldn’t have been that awful.
Maybe if I would be more spontaneous, like you. Instead I always tend think too much. How do you always put up with that trait of mine? It even annoys me from time to time!
But that day just happened to have been an unlucky one before I stepped into your shop. And my darling cat had died in my arms after we decided to give him the peaceful rest he deserved after months of painful fighting. And winter is always a time in which I retreat into my shell even more than usual – even without all that worry I had those days and without all the pressure at work on top of that.
And sometimes, I have to admit that to myself, I just am a stupid and pathetic moron. Age doesn't always necessarily make you wiser, you know?
But still…
Fortunately I did meet you. And you were not only insane enough to fall in love with me – an old, grumpy man who is bad with words – but you also reached out to me and made my life beautiful from the second you first walked through my door.
So what should I write, love?
That I love you? You already know that. Hopefully…
That everything that I have, am, and will be is yours forever? I think the line before already implies that anyway.
That I am happy that we met? Tch (yes, I see your smile here)! Happy doesn’t even have a chance to describe how grateful I truly am.
Maybe I could write that you make my whole world complete. Where it had been spinning out of control before, you just made it calm down. Bloody hell, that sounds tacky! Even if it’s true nonetheless. But well…
I could write that I am addicted to laughing with you. Hell knows I had been doing that way too less before we met. Even though I had Hanji there with me, who always did and still does her best in cheering me up.
I could write that I can’t imagine my life without waking up next to you each morning anymore. With your ruffled hair and your morning voice that sounds so endearingly drowsy and kind. With your wonderful strong arms that always pull me closer to let me snuggle against your wonderful, warm body, while your hand rests on my chest to feel my heartbeat.
I could write all that…
I should write how I adore you for being so good to Hanji. She loves you too, you know? How couldn’t she? And she and I both know how she will make me cry during our ceremony because she will not be able to hold it back herself. Damn those happy tears and that we always end up crying together when one of us starts.
Thank you for taking care of us.
I should write that you still make my heart jump sillily, whenever you come home in the evening and it feels like someone just let in the sun. And whenever I have the chance to finish work early I couldn’t imagine to not want to pick you up. Just to see you earlier – even if it is only a matter of a few minutes.
I should write that I admire you for your wonderful mind, that never seems to stop to amaze me.
Like yesterday, when you came home and found me at my desk, so mad about a project at work. You just kissed me kindly, went into the bathroom to fetch a towel, wrapped the short end around my shoulders and declared proudly that from now on I would be Supermad and the villians should beware of my cleaning sponge. It made me laugh instantly and as you pulled me into a deep embrace all the bad thoughts were gone at once.
Or like last weekend, when we were cosy on the couch, watching your beloved Princess Bride, and you looked at our intertwined feet, only to chuckle something about a mixed leg salad, sprinkled with Lizzy hair…
How do you always come up with things like this anyway? I absolutely adore you just for those, and for so much more.
I should write how I love how our bodies fit together. Not just during sex, but every time. When you hug me I feel protected. Not that I would need it. Nevertheless it is so nice. It tells me I am not alone. And when you’re around it always is as if I finally came home. Wherever we are.
I definitely want to tell you how weak my knees always become when you look at me. It never feels like you were looking down at me, even if you are taller.
But I don’t want to say all of that in front of other people at some ceremony. Even if they are our friends. It is for your ears only.
I just want to tell the world that I am yours and that I'd be so happy if you would be mine as well. And then I would kiss you and take you into my arms. Just like that. Nothing more. I’m sure you would understand me. You always do somehow.
And I know that you will probably not even have to write your own vows. You will just look at me with those compelling eyes and that wonderful smile of yours and I’ll know everything you want to say, because it will be all written on your face, open for me to read. And maybe you’ll even throw in a joke. Or you’ll simply tell me you love me in some made-up language again… maybe Whale this time. Just because you are who you are and it will make me laugh.
I still don’t know what to write, love.
And I miss you. I want to see you again and take your hand in mine while I let you tell me about your day.
I should just go and pick you up from work. It is almost time and Saturdays always feel odd without you.
And I’m not good with words anyway.