He Loves Me
Summary: Your friend won’t stop trying to set you up, and really, what’s a girl to do?
also known as the inevitable fake dating au
Love is quick. It’s swimming upstream, three feet underwater, it’s the weightlessness of gravity and the pull in your chest. It’s old lungs, and new faces, it’s “I never told you I needed you until you forgot how much you used to need me too.”
Love is slow, smooth like honey, sticky warm feeling of fingers against your own. It’s loose limbs and butterfly kisses, a balancing act. It’s you, dangling on a precipice, two feet from reality and unwilling to leap.
Love is the kind of thing that happens at two a.m., barefoot in the kitchen, slow dancing to nothing but the sound of his breath, quiet in the darkness, bodies a flicker of something beautiful, the last two lovely things on earth.
Love is easy, love is hard. Love is broken, love is beautiful.
Love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love, cannot be killed or swept aside.
Love is love. There is no other name for it.
‘He loves me, he loves me not.’
Love is him.
And so it begins.