Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Inspired by mariskahargiitay . tumblr post/65759487548
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"I love you."
Your body stills as the words wash over you, but your mind races a million times faster. Your breath starts to come quicker and quicker, and the butterflies that race throughout your stomach are so severe you think that there's a real possibility you're about to throw up. Your throat is tightening and you think you may have an urge to cry, or panic, or run. Or all three, probably all three. You look up at his eyes and blink, once, twice, three times, and then your eyes drop to the ground. His face is a better sight than the cracked gavel of the road, though, and you can't help but look upwards again, exhaling. You can't believe—He didn't just—
He couldn't have.
You're imagining it, you think. You have to be. You've imagined those exact words leaving that exact mouth time and again, despite all the guilt that tore through your body as you did. There's no need to feel guilty now, though, you remind yourself. The absence of the all too familiar wedding ring grounds you, just a little. You weren't happy when it had happened, not exactly; you just weren't as upset as you probably should have been. His is your best friend, after all. Your partner.
This has to be a joke.
Those words have hardly been said to you throughout your life. They've been scattered here and there, by friends and strangers and the rare few times your mother had decided to tell you, even by a boyfriend or two. But it has never meant as much as it did right now, those three words had never held so much meaning, had never sounded so raw, so beautiful, so painful as they did in that moment.
You've always imagined hearing them come from the mouth of someone you love. Not just love, but love, like you love the man in front of you. You never thought it would happen, but it has, at least you think it has. Surely even you couldn't trick yourself this much, illusions never lasted this long.
Oh god, you think. You haven't said anything, have barely moved since he spoke. He's probably freaking out, probably wants to run, too. You don't want him to, you don't, but you don't know what to do. You've wanted it for so long, but you don't know what to do.
You try and talk, but your mouth doesn't move. It's probably best, really, because talking would ruin it. The floodgates would open and you'd probably do something stupid like spill every thought, every feeling, you've ever had for the man since you knew him. You couldn't let that happen.
Cool. Keep your cool.
You exhale, slowly, and his eyes follow the movements of your lips.
This is ridiculous, this is completely ridiculous. This isn't happening, it's not—
"Liv?" He asks, and his voice sounds broken, almost, and your heart speeds up once again.
You're an idiot, you think. You're an idiot, you're an idiot, you're an idiot. He's right there and he's telling you, he's telling you, that he loves you.
He loves you.
"You love me," you repeat, but it doesn't sound like a question, not really. Your voice is breathless and you can hear the emotion in it, you're scared in case you've got it wrong.
"Yes," he said, quiet. So quiet you can barely hear, but you do. You do.
You're not wrong, you're not, but your body can't seem to process that train of thought. You still haven't moved, you don't know how. Don't know what urge to let overtake you. Part of you wants to run and disappear, but the other part just wants to fall into his arms, to cling to him, to finally, finally, finally, allow yourself to take something you want without fear of the consequences.
"Say it again," you say, because then maybe you'll believe it. Because then maybe your body will understand it, and perhaps then it'll do something, anything.
"I love you," he says it again, and you know he's unsure of what's going on, can see it in the lines of his face. Of course he's unsure, you think, these emotions are easier for him. Not easy, but easier.
Your lips part, and the tip of your tongue slithers through the gap to wet your dry lips. Again, he watches the movement with his eyes and the butterflies are back, full force, but you don't feel like throwing up anymore. You feel like leaning forward and grabbing hold of him, you feel like pressing your body against his just to be close, you feel like tilting your head upwards and kissing him.
So you do.
And the moment your lips clash with his, it's almost as if everything in your mind is cleared. It feels right, it feels right to be doing this with him. His arms wrap around you and he pulls you against him, impossibly close, and you can tell he's wanted this as much as you have, even if he didn't recognise it. You can feel one of his hands on the small of your back and the other gently cradling the side of your face – always so gentle with you, you think. His tongue runs against the roof of your mouth and the noise you make is embarrassing, but everything in that moment is so good, too good, that you don't care.
It's ridiculous, completely fucking ludicrous, but you'd never stop. You couldn't. You don't want to.
You need air, eventually, and when you pull back you hide your flush cheeks in the crook of his neck. You can't believe—
Laughter breaks its way out through your mouth, and you can feel him smile. He kisses you atop the head as he pulls you into an impossibly tighter hug, and you laugh again, softly, but you can't stop. Everything feels right, feels okay. Your body feels free, and you're happy, you're so happy it's ridiculous. Completely, undoubtedly absurd but the man holding you is your clarity and you don't ever, ever, ever want to let him go.
You kiss his neck, just because you can, and smile as you mumble: "I love you, too."