Kira is just lovely to look at. Absolutely, completely lovely. There is something adorable about her tiny figure and her cheekbones and about the way she wrinkles her nose.
You love looking at her, but sometimes, when you blink, just for a second you wish you'd see another face, with milky skin and long eyelashes.
You love how Kira laughs; often and out loud, just like a child and then everything is sunshine and rainbows and puppies and when Kira starts to laugh it makes others laugh too.
Yet you yearn to hear the soft, muffed laugh of another girl, rare but sweet sound she made when she was happy.
When Kira walks down the stairs on your prom night, you can't take your eyes out of her; she blushes when you hand her corsage and she is the prettiest girl in the world, but you remember the girl so beautiful that it hurt. Kira's dress is black and it is supposed to be pink and her hair fall loose on her back and they are supposed to be in a ponytail.
Kira touches your heart every day, with every word and every gesture, but you once knew the girl that touched your soul, stained it and transformed into something new and that's why your soul always beats the heart.
Being with Kira is as easy as breathing, as simple as walking, you hold hands on school halls and your mom likes her, she helps you with English and bakes you cookies, you are not fated or star crossed and she is everything you could dream of, except she's not.
Your dreams are full of dark eyes and brown curls; full of red fingernails and husky voice and soft noises she used to made when you kissed her neck. Your dreams are dark and mysterious and the girl you dream of isn't the girl you kiss goodbye every night.
You hold Kira close when she falls asleep in your arms and you kiss her head; her skin is warm and smells like you and you suppose that you must smell like her but your mind is far, far away in the different bed, with different girl, in another time when you had sex for the first time and it was nothing like you had imagined, it was so much more. And you lay with Kira, but you think about the condoms your mum once found and about the broken lamp, about the stolen kisses and hiding on the roof and about how once it was different and yes, how it was terrible but perfect.
Kira is Sunday afternoons and Saturday mornings, Kira is the spring and the sun but you walked beside girl that was- and still is- Friday nights and golden scarlet brown fall and the moon of your life and you are a werewolf and moons are kind of your thing. Kira is the light that guides you home but that another girl is still the beacon of hope you hold on, still your anchor.
Stiles likes to joke how Kira is now your second beta and that's true; she gives you good advice and supports you, she is there for you no matter what. But sometimes you recall the girl that wasn't you beta, but the second alpha; not next to you but beside you, your equal.
Kira in the battle is deadly, all thunderstorms and electricity, but when you look at her, you can do nothing but compare her with the cold, clinical killer, with the silent snake in the garden you had a chance to know once upon a time.
They are both brave and beautiful and you love them both, at the same time and differently, but just as much, the heart and the soul, the beta and the alpha.
But there are red nails versus blue ones and gleaming eyes versus the dark ones, there is the waterfall of black hair versus brown curls and there are soft lips versus rough ones, there is a katana versus silver arrows and there is love you love to love versus the one you just had to love as soon as your eyes laid on her; there is the kitsune versus the hunter and the good versus the smart and the soldier versus the leader and life versus death and to be brutally honest, there is no comparison.
Because no matter how you love Kira Yakimura, Allison Argent was the one for you.