You wake, slowly, not forced or rush by an annoying alarm. When you have enough consciousness you roll over and stare at the alarm clock reading 5:15. With a small groan you roll back over, hoping to find the comfort of sleep again. But when you do so you realize the comfort and warmth of your girlfriend isn’t in bed with you.
You have a moment of panic, but then there’s the light clinking of dishes from the kitchen. She’s making tea. You slip from bed, padding down the wooden floor to the kitchen, bare chest cold against the early air. Its worth it, though, when you wrap your arms around her from behind and lay your head in the crook of her neck. “Goodmorning.” You say quietly, kissing her neck once.
She tells you ‘I couldn’t sleep’ and you reply with “Well why didnt you wake me up?”. ‘I knew you would wake up soon anyway.’ She responds, and you suppose she’s right.
Her voice still has laces of sleep in it- quiet and low and even the tiniest bit scratchy. Her hair was tousled from sleep and her familiar scent was starting to have the smallest bits of your own slipped into it. Her fruits and flowers started to have hints of your cologne, and your cologne started to smell a bit fruitier. It made you smile, knowing you two were around each other and close to each other so often that that happened.
In the early morning faint light- half sun and half moon with shadows of the city- her pale skin took on something of a faint rose glow, and every freckle popped from her skin. You could see some of her freckles on her hips, her shirt having been shifted up just slightly.
“You’re beautiful.” You say quietly, kissing her neck again. You say it as fact. And she was beautiful, incredibly so, both in appearances and her personality which you came to adore. She may have her faults- who doesnt- but she was essentially perfect, to you. She was beautiful, and she was yours. Yours to hold and kiss and love unconditionally. Yours to make smile and laugh, and her in turn to you.
You smile against her skin. Early mornings may be your favorite time, when there’s nothing to a person but the remains of sleep and whatever has consumed their dreams.
“I love you.” You confirm, your fingers skirting gently over her hips. She doesn’t need to answer, you already know what she’ll say. But it always comes to make you smile when her girlish attitude and snarky remarks fades for just a moment to tell you ‘I love you too.’