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“Would you like to see one of the best places for stargazing?”
He wonders, genuinely, how he could still think he could look her straight in the eyes and deny her whatever it was she was asking of him or proposing after witnessing the light in her irises. Of course the problem wasn’t there to bother his mind anymore, as he had now learned to acquiesce to his instinct whenever the french girl, really a lovely young woman now, so much as looked his way and her eyes sparkled.
Fluorite had no abilities related to cosmo, of that he was certain, but no one could remove from his head the thought she had some kind of knowledge on how to read within his mind which was the best way to have him throw logic away in favor of pure, simple experiences to share with her.
She leads him through the alleys of the miraculously not so full streets, her hand soft in his even with the calluses of daily cooking and housework, pleasant against his skin. They descend a few stairs, the midday sun bright yet not burning in the clear sky above them as his armored steps beside hers make noise against the stone, and in a matter of minutes they find themselves in a verdant vastness of trees and flowerbeds.
Still not letting his hand go, she gestured with a movement of her head to a spot by a lone tree that had to be quite old given its width and massive frond, the leafy trails swaying gently to the breeze’s will.
Finally sitting down after a whole morning of back and forth between houses to collect papers for the Pope, which was his own category of stress if added to the additional duty of ensuring Regulus’ exercises kept on going smoothly despite the young Leo Saint’s Conner Lugh shaped half of brain, he allows himself the pleasure of feeling the wind’s quiet passage as it caresses them both.
“It’s nice seeing you like that.” He turns to her at the sound of her voice, seeing her face is a necessity. The hand still holding his rests securely in his grasp, and her presence makes his blood flow smoother than it has all morning.
“How?” he asks, a rare and genuine mirth to his tone.
“Relaxed. It’s something you should keep in you bag and take out when you need to exhale the frustration or pressure you feel.”
He smiles gratefully at her words, but doesn’t let the opportunity she’s given him go to waste. “Are you saying I should keep you in my bag?”
He has the luck to see her flush at his question, her pale cheeks turning a pinkish red just a tad darker than the tips of her ears, even if there’s a small smile on her lips.
“I’m saying I like seeing you serene and happy. Or, well…” she trails, biting her lower lip mindlessly for a brief moment, and that small action lights a dangerous flame in his stomach. “I just like seeing you. Being with you.” she says in an increasingly lower tone, her words so soft they become whispers as she lowers her gaze. The hand not clasped in hers raises to touch her cheek lightly and turn her attention back on him.
“I should hope so. I wouldn’t be a worthy husband if you didn’t wish to be with me.”
That makes her snort softly. “You’re probably the one man in this city born knowing how to act towards a woman. It’s impossible I wouldn’t have eventually caught feelings.” she admits, putting her hand on his and inclining her head against it.
“Yet I made you cry.” he says, not to bring back unnecessary reminiscences but as a matter of fact, thinking back of when she’d vented to him during that fateful lesson a while before he caught a fever, when she took care of him and they had their first, proper talk. When he first smiled after finishing a sketched portrait of her, during a tranquil night, her smile on his drawn over paper making his heart somersault in his chest for the first time.
She smiles openly at his observation, looking straight at him. “But you also made me smile. You make me smile.”
He looks one moment at her smiling face and is reminded of how worth it it was to have gone through an inner panic when proposing to her a few days prior. He’d thought his insides would burn up and incinerate him from within due to the amount of anxiety he was feeling, and yet none of it felt like it had ever been present when he finally uttered the words and she looked at him first with disbelief, then with incredulity and lastly with unfiltered, uncontainable joy. Of course I’ll marry you.
He swears he’d never felt so much at the same time going through his heart. There had been such a perfect, beautiful amalgamation of emotions swirling through him as they spun around in shared happiness, the early spring’s wildflowers as their witnesses.
He bends himself just a bit to be able to reach her and places a soft kiss to her temple, her skin smooth under his lips, and he lets his own forehead carefully slide down from where it curved towards her head and places it against her own, just to feel her, just to be in this moment with her. She presses herself against him, kissing his cheek gently, and his arms instinctively wrap themselves around her waist, his throat letting a humm of contentment go. As much as it fills him to the brim with happiness thinking he’ll soon call her his wife, for now he’s happy simply spending the time they get together like this, in quietness as they near the wedding arrangements period.
She draws back from their embrace after a bit of simple cuddling, and pats her knee. “You should lay down a bit, you didn’t stop for a moment today.” Her eyes look at him half pleadingly, half concerned, the blue hues in them conveying to him a hundred variations of unspoken care in mere seconds.
“Did we come here so you could watch me sleep?” he jokes, even though there’s no real bite towards himself for his slight sleepiness as he regards her with laughing eyes; something he thought he didn’t possess anymore until she came into his life.
“We came here” she says, reaching for his hand again and squeezing it gently, pulling him towards her. “So we could enjoy some peace.” she pauses, looking at him warmly, “Let me take care of you.” she smiles again, all living light and blonde strands, and he can’t fight her request any longer.
He lays down on his side in a smooth movement, and carefully places his head on her lap before readjusting himself on his back. He closes his eyes for a moment and opens them to find her smile at him, her lips curved with softness and love aimed at him alone.
“There you are.” her hands gently cup his face in a careful half moon, her knuckles caressing his cheek as her other hand absentmindedly combs through his hair, the feeling of her hands almost making him groan. He’d been surprised in the beginning, when they’d first come clean to each other about their mutual feelings and started kissing, holding hands, giving each other small, brief loving gestures, at how affectionate she was, how affectionate she is. Her small hands ghost over his face and through his hair with featherlight touches, her fingertips delicate as they roam his features with adoration.
I love you. she’s telling him, in the warmth of her proximity, in the softness of her consideration, in the playful spark within her gaze, in the brilliance of her soul, resounding in tandem with his.
I love you. he says back to her as he opens his eyes to caress the side of her face sweetly, his fingers feeling through the curtain of her liquid gold hair as he looks at her and thinks how lucky he is to be loved by her, how lucky he is to love her, how he doesn’t want to love anyone else, ever, not even in his future lives.
She smiles into his touch, kissing his palm, her sky colored irises landing on him just as he gestures her to come lay down beside him. He raises his eyebrow in mocked disbelief. “Are you scared to lose at cloud spotting?” he teases, and she laughs a wind chime laugh, alive and vibrant.
“Never.” she confirms and carefully draws back from under his head as he lifts off, before settling beside him, nestling happily as he turns on his side once again to face her, his arm circling her middle. Their faces are close, so close they can feel each other’s warm breath against their skin, their noses brushing softly in gentle mutual movements. She looks into his eyes and there’s the warmth of a galaxy’s stars burning within them, promising to keep her warm and cherished through the fall and winter that will bring along their union, and all the seasons to come. He looks into her eyes and sees what must be the light he’s read poets and writers describe in their sonnets and works over carefully stored scrolls, as the undying candle of love that withstands any storm to keep you warm.
He doesn’t know how it happens, it doesn’t really matter to him, but in the blink of an eye they’ve slowly shifted positions with her under him, held between his arms laying on the fresh grass and him hovering innocuously over her, their eyes transfixed as he lowers himself and she meets him halfway, hands rising to her cheeks and around his neck as he reacquaintances himself with their selves joining and their lips converse in a language he can only express himself through reverential kisses, her nostrils breathing him in before they delve in again.
He doesn’t know where he’ll end once his life comes to a close, but this feels like paradise enough.