The one where it’s 3am and he thinks you’re beautiful ♡
She was the only quiet he wanted, content with unspoken words being heard in soft smiles in hair and kisses on foreheads worn like crowns and he’d give anything to capture moments like these in picture frames so he’d be sure he’d never lose them. He was crazy about her. He could tell you exactly what made her smile that day two years ago, even if it was just for a moment. Don’t get me wrong, she was head over heals for him too, she’d memorized the deep lines in his palms that cupped her cheeks perfectly and she knew from first glance that he would know how to hold her.
He wasn’t completely sure what it was that had woken him up but he thinks it was the realizations that her breath was no longer on his neck. So he makes his way passed the discarded clothes and Polaroids strung together on walls, looking for her, and when he finds her he swears to this day that he stopped breathing. She was wearing one of his shirts and it was just hanging off her back, her hair was in a top knot that kind of looked like a baby had been pulling at it but to him she made it work. Her skin was illuminated by the dull glow of the refrigerator light and her thighs had bruises which makes he’s heart ache with pride because she’s wearing proof of his fingertips from the night before.
The radio was on and it’s playing the song she attached to that drunk guy they met at that party one time because she’s the kind of girl who’d attach songs to people and hate it when they stopped being important because the songs still are. She hadn’t noticed he was there yet, hadn’t seen his fond smile and his eyes that said “that’s my girl” but he figured she would notice soon and when she did she’d flush and her cheeks would go his favourite shade of pink and she’d lean against the open refrigerator door and she’d sigh out a “hi”, he won’t say anything though because words aren’t needed, he would just walk over to her so he can do the one thing he’s been wanted to do since finding her in the kitchen 15 minutes ago, he’d kiss her almost as soft as her voice and when they pull apart, because the lack of air was getting pretty critical, he would rest his forehead on hers and the radio would start to play a slow love song about how the guy finally got the girl, and they’d dance.