A/N: Something short that came to mind while watching season four. Time frame not really needed.
Disclaimer: Funny how I don't need one.
I love you.
Funny how, out of all the phrases in books that he has read, he thinks that maybe this was used the most. Or maybe the least. He doesn't really know (and it doesn't really matter).
Funny how, despite everything, that is the only phrase that he can get to come out of his mouth when he sees her. Despite that every book reminds him of her (there must be thousands) and every verse or chorus in every song and every famous line in every movie, funny how that is the only phrase that he can get to come out of his mouth when he sees her.
I love you.
Funny how he means it.
Funny how, even when he was just a kid, he never even said it to his mom. He never even said it to Luke, despite everything that he means to him. It doesn't surprise him that he only said it once (only that he ever said it at all).
Funny how, even though he manages to get it out, he runs away before she can say anything (before she can say it back). He thinks that—despite his pride—maybe, maybe he was scared. He thinks that he was scared. No, he knows that he was scared.
Funny how, when he sees her, he does not think about before. He only falls into her spell, because he thinks that she is a witch, and whatever potion she is brewing it works because he can only think how blue her eyes are, how impossibly, surreally blue; how enormously, fantastically blue.
I love you.
Funny how, even though he means to say it again, and this time he means to stay, he doesn't (he's scared). Despite everything, despite that he says that he has gotten over it, when he sees her with him he does not want to look weak. Not in front of him. Not in front of him. He can't. And it will cost him.
Funny how, although he knows it won't do him any good, he really doesn't think that running away is that bad an idea. He thinks that maybe this way they can be together, maybe this way it will be real.
I love you.
Funny how it always was.
Funny how, as he looks back on it, he isn't ashamed. He isn't afraid. Despite the fact that he let his heart talk, for once, instead of backing off, despite his tough guy attitude, he isn't ashamed. Because he would do anything for her (he does).
Funny how, he thinks, she taught him more than he ever knew. And not because of backseat lessons about history that she insisted on (because she wants the best for him), and not because of test questions between kisses (because that is the best way to learn), and not because of teaching math on diner napkins (because she is the best textbook he has), but because of love. Because he means it (because of her).
I love you.
Funny how, after all, that is the first thing he says when he sees her again. And despite everything, despite running away and leaving behind what he shouldn't have—he should have taken her with him, despite months going by without fruit baskets or smoke signals, that is the first thing he says.
Funny how, now that he sees her, he can only think of how blue her eyes are, how hopelessly, desperately blue; how tremendously, remarkably blue. And he can only fall, faster now, realer now, he can only fall into them, helpless and drowning (and he doesn't even mind).
Funny how, despite everything, when he says I love you, she believes him.
I love you.
Funny how she (finally) says it back.