Chapter 1: Spring (Clarke's PoV)
She brings me flowers.
They're white and yellow, and a dozen different shades of red and I spend my afternoons finding the right mixture of colors to paint them. She watches me quietly from behind the book she's reading and pretends I don't catch her staring at me whenever our eyes meet.
The sun shines through the large window and I find myself realizing these are the most peaceful moments I could wish for. My teeth finally let go of my lower lip as I take a breath and release the paintbrush from my fingers. I scan my eyes over the canvas and wonder if it could ever do justice to the actual beauty of the petals in front of me, to the way she smiles when she holds the flower to her nose and breathes in deeply, to the way she kisses me when she comes home and presses a new one into my hands.
She comes up behind me and whispers that my creation holds more beauty than the flower does.
(And I blush, because she really likes her flowers.)
Some mornings, I wake up with her cheek on my shoulder and her dark hair covering my chest. Her breathing is peaceful and I run my hands over the smooth skin of her bare spine, until she stirs and tightens her hold on my middle. I press a kiss to the top of her head and enjoy the warm feeling of her bare skin against mine. She breathes in and I wonder if this is what it's like to be connected to someone's soul.
There's a fresh scent of pleasant coolness in the air, something that signals the new beginning of everything I cannot name. The birds are chirping excitedly, and when we step outside the sweet smell of spring invades our lungs. The sky is a stormy color of blue, littered with white clouds and on the edge of change.
The day feels like the beginning of a movie, the euphoric bliss that precedes or follows after the storm. I squeeze her soft hand and only hope that it's neither of those, but simply a fragile reality between the two of us.
She takes me out to random places, tells me there's a new beauty everywhere at the start of the season.
(I look at her and I know she's right.)
The days get warmer and one day she's wearing shorts for the first time this year. She walks out the front door and I follow slowly behind her, roaming my eyes over her long, bare legs. They're beautiful and she walks elegantly like the world was made just for her to set foot on. I can't help but consider all the positions I've had those legs in, and there's a fluttering in my stomach. She turns around, teasingly annoyed and with a smile on her face.
"Clarke," she says, and it sends a hot chill through my spine. "It's not fair when you can see me but I can't see you."
I bite my lip in a smile and fall in step beside her. She entwines our hands and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
"Better," she mumbles with a careful smile.
The trees bloom and the birds fly around excitedly. Kids ride their bikes to school and the world is far from quiet. When the sunshine falls over her face at the perfect angle, I hold my breath at the sight and wonder if I could ever capture the image on paper. She gives me a soft look and I smile breathlessly.
She kisses me under the cherry blossoms one day and I smile, because these moments mean everything to me. The white and pink shades of the trees around us stand in perfect contrast with her bright green eyes and I kiss her again because I can't explain the way it feels.
I feel her breath tremble against my lips.
It's late one afternoon when the sky darkens and drops of water fall against our window, leaving trails where they travel down to meet the ground. At the first sounds of the rain against the glass, she closes her laptop. She stands up to look out of the window and for a moment I just quietly observe her with the same intensity she observes the garden.
There's a smile on her face when she walks up to me, circles her arms around me and tugs me towards the bedroom. Once again she lingers in front of our window but then pulls me down to lie beside her on the bed. Her eyes are wide and she's quiet, breathing softly though her parted lips and I wonder if she can feel the same warmth in her chest that I feel when I look at her. She turns her head and her bright eyes stay glued to mine, her hand fumbling with my fingers until I entwine them.
I smile at the softness in her eyes, as green as the fresh leaves outside and sparkling with the reflection of heaven's tears.
She's warm beside me and all in existence is the two of us as we silently listen to the drops that fall against the window.
The rain crashes down -
And she's beautiful.