They just sit there.
In the fields, holding hands.
Their hair blows in the cool wind.
Blonde curls and jet black strands.
Hands clutch each the others like a lifeline.
Lines of worry are now long gone.
They talk quietly to each other, reassuring each other that it won't happen again.
No more wars.
No more saving the world.
Again.
She turns to him, her startling grey eyes twinkle mischievously.
She lifts something to his face.
A handful of berries smack his cheek.
She laughs at the expression in his sea-green eyes.
Another handful comes up and hits the girl in the neck.
A fight comes, with strawberries flying everywhere.
They stop and call a truce.
The girl leans in to kiss his cheek, but he turns his head in the last second.
It's not an accident.
You see them so inexplicably happy and you wonder why.
Then you realize.
They have each other.
And strawberries happen to be the fruits of love.