I remember the first time I ever saw Elizabeth. I remember, feeling as though an angel had come to save me --
He stopped, put the quill down. It wasn't sincere. It was true, and yes, it was sweet. But it wasn't... enough.
Growing up, I was always afraid. I was afraid to say even the simplest of names in your presence. I was afraid that you --
He stopped again, and crumpled up the paper. She wasn't scary. She would never be scary. She was lovely, and kind, and honest.
For so many years, when I've thought about love, I've thought about you. You are all I could have ever hoped for --
Again, with the cliches. He needed something original, something heartfelt. He needed something worthy of Elizabeth. Somehow, when he tried to voice his feelings, when he attempted to say how he felt, it always came out wrong. He always said the wrong thing at the right time, or the right thing too late for it to matter. She never had that problem. She could always say how she felt, and mean it. It meant the world to him, and yet he still could not return the favour.
And then it hit him. That's all he needed to say.
It's always difficult to say what you feel. I never felt that anything was enough. You never found it difficult. I know, I always said the wrong things, or maybe they were right, I wouldn't know. All I know, at this moment, is that I love you. That's all that matters.
It was a little tacky, but it would have to do.
He never got to say those vows, written specifically for her. The wedding interrupted, had finally come through.
'Marry me!' He shouted over the din of the raging battle.
'I don't think now is the best time!'
'Now may be the only time!' He called back, then quickly grabbed her arm. 'I've made my choice, now make yours.'
I love you. I choose you.
It was the only the thing he ever had to say.