I'm in love with you, Birdie. I always have been, I just didn't realize it. Honestly, it should have been obvious. I know that you don't think anything of yourself, but please, just for once, notice how wonderfully beautiful and perfect you are. You really are beautiful.

Do you remember when we met? We were at a party your brother had hosted. I never liked your brother, but it was a party; of course I had to be there. Carlos had mistaken you for your idiotic brother and was just about to beat you up until I showed up like the awesome person I am. When he apologized and left, I finally got a good look at your face. You were beautiful. Violet eyes and blonde hair and those glasses and your red Canada hoodie; I loved it all.

After that, I made it a point to know who you were and where you sat at lunch and your schedule and everything I could find before I had the courage to face you and ask you things myself. It took your cousin to actually get me to walk up to you that day. I don't regret it.

At first, you were oblivious to me. You knew who I was (how could anyone not know of my awesomeness?) but we never really spoke before and after that party. I became your friend, and I was possibly your best friend too. I'm really sorry about that detention I accidentally got you into. It was my fault for bringing you into that prank, even if you do say that you had fun and that it doesn't matter. We got into more trouble than that, but you never got into trouble after that one detention, so I guess it was okay.

Do you remember the first time you gave me pancakes? When I told you I had no clue what pancakes were, you were absolutely horrified and practically dragged me to your house in order to make me pancakes, stating that, and I quote, "No friend of mine is going to be oblivious to the awesomeness that is pancakes." Let me tell you, Birdie, your pancakes were heavenly, and they still are. Especially with maple syrup. I always demanded pancakes when I came over after that.

I remember seeing the cuts on your wrist. I was horrified, but I never wanted to shun you. You had gotten so scared and locked me out of your room. I just kept banging on the door until you let me in. I was really lucky your parents weren't there and that your brother was at an American football game. I held you as you cried before I told you what I was thinking. I told you that it didn't matter if you were depressed, because I wanted to make it so that you didn't have to feel pain any longer. I had kissed all your cuts after that.

That's the reason we got together, isn't it?

We had become so much closer after that, and it was awesome. I think the kisses I had given you that night also proved that I at least had some small feelings for you. At the time, I don't think you really understood how in love I was with you, and I think you still don't. Your brother might call me a creep or a stalker or an obsessive freak, but I am just so in love with you.

Our first date ended in disaster, didn't it? We went to dinner at some French restaurant Francis suggested (okay, maybe not the best idea to listen to him, but Arthur wasn't telling him "THAT PLACE IS TERRIBLE YOU FROG! DON'T LISTEN TO HIM YOU TWO!" so I thought it was okay). In the end, I successfully started a food fight and almost got beat up by a waiter. It was awesome. You looked so adorable when you were fixing up my injuries back at my house. You were so worried; I couldn't help but kiss you. You were taken by surprise, of course, but you didn't object. I was happy that you didn't.

Our first fight scared me. Since I was pretty popular in school, we both knew that there were girls out there that liked me. You knew I was bi, but that didn't stop you from believing that I wouldn't leave you for any guy or girl that caught my eye. You were, and still are, the only one for me. A girl had ambushed me and kissed me just as you were rounding the corner. I had, of course, chased after you, but you wouldn't listen to me. We got into a fight that ended with me storming off and locking myself in my room for weeks on end. It turns out, you had done the same.

When I heard this, I immediately ran to your place and begged for your forgiveness and I was finally able to explain myself. We made up, and we spent the night in each other's arms on your bed. I was happy to wake up to your beautiful, sleeping face. I had brushed my hands against your (surprisingly soft) cheeks and moved back some strands of hair. You had woken up to that, and gave me a stunning and soft smile. I had kissed you after that.

We took it even farther than simple kissing in the summer of our senior year. Of course, by that time, we had already made out quite a lot, but it was your birthday that day that we went all the way. Everyone had forgotten your birthday; everyone but me, that is. I found you crying in your room while your brother was having a party at the park. Tears had stained your beautiful face, and I didn't like it. Not one bit.

I told you that the tears didn't do anything for your beauty and kissed them away. Soon, I had had you laughing and telling me thank you. We spent a lazy day in your house and cuddled by the couch for a while. Somehow, we ended up making out and doing it in your bedroom. It was, well, awesome.

You were so flustered back then, did you know? Your cheeks turned a lovely shade of red. I didn't regret it, and when I asked you, you told me you didn't regret it either in that cute little squeaky voice of yours that you get when you're embarrassed. I had chuckled and hugged you.

You never told your family, because they would have killed me. Well, at the very least, your brother would have. And I'm certain Francis and his boyfriend (even if he forgets your name a lot) would try to kill me as well. It's funny how many people are so overprotective of you, and you never even noticed.

College was harder, though. We got accepted into different colleges in two different states, so it was hard to visit each other. That didn't stop us. We still called each other before bed and when we woke up every morning (much to the chagrin of our roommates) and we had occasional visits when we could. I had kept a picture of your beauty on my bedside table. I saw that you had had a picture of my awesomeness on yours too. I had teased you endlessly about it when I first found out. You were adorably red again.

Do you remember that night on New Years Eve, when I was visiting you in our third year of college? We were walking through the park, just having a good time. You were smiling so brightly as we walked around the fair that was going on at the time. It was 11:58 when I did it. I had kneeled down on one knee and recalled everything we had done and my thoughts of you when I first met you and what I thought of you in that moment. I had then asked you the fateful question: Will you marry me?

You had stood there, stunned, and I was scared that you'd reject me. Then you suddenly tackled me in a hug, shouting yes. I had stood and spun you around. Then you kissed me just as the clock struck midnight and fireworks lit the sky. When we pulled away, the fireworks illuminated your face, and I could have sworn you looked more beautiful than ever (which I never thought was even possible).

After college, we had moved in together and we finally hide the time to come up with wedding plans, even though it had been a year or two since we had become engaged. With college, we never had a chance. You majored in art and I majored in music. Throughout our years in college, we had quickly learned how much we needed each other's presence, considering we were so far apart all the time.

Even though I was forced to sit through an awkward dinner with your rich parents, overprotective brother, overprotective cousin, and his overprotective tag-along boyfriend, they ended up accepting our love and our wish to be married. I refuse to admit that I was really scared (even if you beg to differ).

The day of our wedding was a nerve-wrecking day. I couldn't stop pacing, and the fact that we had to be apart for a whole day didn't help me at all. You weren't there to whisper soft words of encouragement, so I had to stick with my brother trying to comfort me, which did nothing at all considering he'd never really had to do that before. It took Elizabeta hitting me on the head with her fist (because the pan would have caused my looks to be ruined, and it was my wedding day, so she wanted to make sure I looked good) to make me calm.

When you walked out in a (forced upon you) dress (Alfred was quickly shut up in his snickering by his boyfriend), I was absolutely stunned at how beautiful you were, even though I had thought I had seen you look very, very beautiful already. Perhaps your beauty has no limits, I had thought. We had exchanged our vows, I had kissed you, and we danced.

When I told you our plans for our honeymoon, you were absolutely ecstatic. Your face had lit up like a Christmas tree, and I had to suppress a blush because you were just so goddamn adorable. I had told you that we would be going to New Prussia in Ontario, Canada. I knew how much you loved Canada, and it just so happened that I loved Prussia (and by default, New Prussia), so this was perfect. It was amazing, spending that week with you. I had wished that it would never end.

We ended up adopting children about five years after we had married. We got two girls, at first. They were twins: Leila and Lucy. They were just six years old, and they were absolutely precious. Lucy acted a bit like me, but less arrogant, while Leila acted like you, but a bit more outgoing and arrogant (but not by much).

Later on, when the twins were eight, we adopted a five year old boy named Genesis (Gene, for short). They had quickly taken a liking to him and were very protective of him. They were closer than we had ever been with our siblings, and that was absolutely perfect. I was happy, and I still am.

As I am writing this, the girls are now in their junior year of high school, and Gene is a freshman, and they are still close as ever. It pains me to say that Leila is now dating a boy (even if he is a rather nice boy who seems to truly love her), whom she has actually been dating since she was 14. Lucy has had a few boyfriends, but no one has really stuck with her for more than three months. Gene hasn't had a relationship yet, but I suspect he likes his best friend. It also seems that he is rather popular with the girls in his school. Leila and Lucy are not happy about it.

And you, you are now famous for your art. People come from far and wide to see your paintings and drawings, and we couldn't be happier. You still have that glow that had only grown brighter in the years we had been together and had built a family.

I love you, Birdie. I always have and I always will. Even as we grow old and wrinkly, I will always love you. Through every hardship and every fight we may have, don't forget that.

And Birdie, you're beautiful. I know you might not believe me, but you really are. You were always so modest and selfless, and I just wish you'd realize how perfect you are. This is my attempt at remembering everything we had gone through, and how many times I had thought of your beauty. So, one last time, I'll say it.

Birdie, I love you… and you're beautiful.