Every minute of her day, which isn't already devoted to tedious, yet not completely trivial obligations, she thinks of her beloved. With such devotion, even God himself would be proud of. She watches him with such benevolent eyes; such eyes that would make even the brightest stars seem dim in comparison.
Yet he, being the playful child that he is, can't help but accept every adversary that comes his way. He mistakenly takes her passionately fiery eyes as defiant taunts. Completely oblivious to her intentions, he violently pushes forward, completely unrelenting in every jab of her heart that he takes.
And yet she is happily ready to comply, not one to blubber over such nothings. Boldly, she mischievously pokes fun at his seemingly serious assaults. Struggling desperately as she fiercely tries to fend off him and her naïve sentiments.
With each blow that they land a mist of crimson mixed with the cold air. Each step they took towards each other seemed only to put miles between them. Both were unwavering with each and every stroke that broke the air. Both were stubborn, and refused to back down without a clear victor in view.
As their final blows drew near, one thought stood out clearly in her mind, the only thing she truly ever thought about, him. As she somberly swallowed her pride, preparing herself for his coarse strike, she surprisingly finds herself at a loss for words.
The incentive for her speechlessness was the overwhelming sight of him gracefully resigning. Yet it wasn't the fact that he was giving in that bewildered her the most, but the ethereal radiance his eyes held when he had done it. These were not the eyes of a foolhardy gentleman that she was so accustomed to or of an apathetic louse in which he had been notoriously known for. No, they were the ardent eyes of a gentle fool. And at these eyes, she could not help but utter three simple words; I love you.