Work Text:
He is a constant sun. He has this effortless way of turning any ordinary Tuesday into a sanctuary, filling the silences with details that seem to bloom from him without a second thought. He looks at me with an attentiveness that sometimes scares me, because I fear that if he looks too deep, he’ll only find the exhaustion I’m trying so hard to hide.
I receive his love like someone receiving a gift that’s far too expensive to ever repay. I watch him try, being thoughtful, being present in every small corner of my life, and I’m hit by this dull, heavy guilt. I feel like I’m walking three steps behind him, that my affection arrives late, or that my hands are simply too empty.
I wish I could be the mirror that reflects back the same light he gives me. But sometimes, the only thing I have to offer is my silent presence, a smile that I struggle to hold up, and this lump in my throat that makes my "I love you" sound quieter than he deserves. It’s not a lack of love; it’s that I’m fighting an internal war that leaves me with no strength for the battles outside.
It hurts to feel like I’m "not enough," that my lack of effort isn't neglect, but pure exhaustion. I wonder if he notices the gap between my love and my inability to show it, and if one day he’ll grow tired of watering a plant that seems to have forgotten how to bloom at his pace.