He thought she was beautiful.

Maybe it was because she was so white, even paler than him. Not saying he was white, like, really white, but he was white enough, British white. And she was whiter - well, paler was the correct term. She was paler than the rest of them yet she loved the sun. But that made her all the more beautiful.

Maybe it was her eyes, her eyes that sparkled in the light. They were baby blue, shining blue. People would say blue was normal, and he should know - he himself was blue-eyed. But her eyes were so much more beautiful and so much more captivating, as if they had the whole universe in her eyes. And if not the whole universe, she had his heart.

Maybe it was her beautiful ginger hair, cascading down her back like a beautiful red waterfall. He loved playing with it and she loved letting him. People would call her easy to get. She wasn't. She was harder to get than most girls she knew, but once he had shown he meant no ill harm she was more comfortable around him, and loved to tease him and he loved her all the same.

Maybe it was the way her height looked so intimidating to him but really, they were practically the same height. He always loved it when girls were at least as tall as him, there was this sense of equality between them whenever it happened. She always admitted to hating her height (she never wanted to be this tall, she said) and thought she was an unattractive giant. But she was the polar opposite, oh so beautiful and so gangly yet carrying what she had in the most beautiful way possible.

Maybe it was the way his name sounded when she said it, rolling off her tongue like a beautiful symphony. He never really liked his name, it was too simple and too plain for his liking. But the way she said it, the way she smiled at him and made him feel butterflies like he was in Year Four and then said his name - the beautiful feeling was all too complicated for him to describe in words.

Maybe it was the way she was a beautiful actress. Flawless. He once said in an interview she turned in beautiful performances - stunning performances - every week. Her performances were something different, something he had never seen before, and something he felt privileged to see up close and personal.

Maybe it was the way she loved to have fun everywhere she went - and it was contagious. Photo shoots meant to be serious ended up with them both swapping clothes and flashing peace signs, with her in a plastic ball and him trying not to laugh his ass off, with him complaining she was heavy in his arms and her bouncing just to annoy him. She was the life of every event they ever went to; without her he was just this boring bloke.

And maybe that was why he thought she was beautiful, maybe that was why he loved her so much. She looked so fragile and he wanted to keep her safe, but at the same time she was stronger than he could have ever hoped to be and without her he was nothing but an actor, and a boring one at that. He couldn't imagine a life without her, and neither did he want to relive it.

He had missed her so much, and now here she was, looking around for him. He couldn't help but grin, remembering all the times they had spent together and thinking of ways how they would spend the next ones - together, as they should be.

Her beautiful blue eyes fell on his face and a grin broke across her face (oh, he'd missed making her smile) and she started running.

Running, he thought, laughing and shaking his head as he realized she was wearing five inch heels. Then again, she always boasted that she could do just about anything in heels, so there were no surprises there.

She shouted his name and suddenly she was in his arms, bags discarded as her beautiful laugh met his ears. He was spinning her around and laughing and holding her close and he didn't want to let go, he never wanted to let her go.

Both of them could hear people talking and see people pointing, but neither cared. At this moment, at that place, there was no one they cared about but themselves, no one more important than the person in front of them.

And then there she was, lips on his, and it was beautiful. Multiple thoughts running through their heads stopped as only one kept flashing in their mind.

It didn't matter what they hadn't said before she had left months ago, or that they had both tried to forget the moments they had with each other. They had tried to move on, but it seemed impossible. It was like every moment brought them back to the moments they had shared and they alone would share - well, they alone and also a certain person who shipped them to the ends of the earth and was their best friend, but never mind that.

What mattered was now: they were here, they loved each other, and they would be together. That was the promise they had made before she had came back, that they would endure all the pains - everything - together.

And that was really all they cared about.

He stared into her eyes and she stared back, and just that shared look made her smile. He would have to get used to seeing her smile again, but God, was he not complaining.

"I love you so much, Kazza." he whispered lovingly, playfully using the nickname he had given her oh so very long ago, back when they had first met, back where everything had started; and she smiled, remembering as well.

"I love you too, you drunk giraffe."

A/N: I'm terrible with endings but I ship this so much T^T Of course Matt and Karen aren't owned by me, and this didn't really happen in real life (although I wish it did).

- psychopathicdorito