Why is he here? He's outside my home, by the door, waiting, waiting for me. Why is he here? Surely I've left him no reason to come back here. Surely yesterday's fight was more than enough to ward him off me forever. I was so angry, so unjust, I had no right to say the things I did, I had no right to lash out at him. He must have known that, he must have known full well that I didn't deserve to see him again. Yet here he was, back once more. Probably here to collect his things, probably here to voice his plans on leaving me behind. Probably here to end everything.

I was hesitant in opening the door, scared for the look that may have been on his face. Scared for what he may have been preparing to say. Yet I was not meant with a confirmation of my fears. I was met with a soft, loving face, one that did not seem angry in the slightest. He should have been angry, he should have been done with me. I found myself feeling bad for him, I found that I hated myself.

A smile crossed his face as he greeted me. How could he smile after all I had said to him. How could he smile after I threw such heinous accusations his way? How could he have worked up the courage to come see me once more.

He held a single flower in his hands, a tulip, red and vibrant.

He spoke in a voice softer than fleece.

"Listen, I'm sorry I insulted your favourite movie, I didn't know it meant so much to you."

I felt bad, I felt as though I had been the one to do something wrong. Probably because I was. I shouldn't have gotten so worked up, I shouldn't have gotten so upset over a fucking movie.

I ignored the flower he held out to me, pulled him into a hug.

The breath he let out was relieved, he wrapped his arms around me, held me tight. I was relieved myself. Calmed by his touch, brought back to ease with his forgiveness. I had been so worried. I had been so fucking scared.

Yet, he peeled me off of him, forced the flower into my hands.

"Let me finish."

Fear, fear once mroe ran through me.

He pulled something from the pocket of his jacket, wouldn't allow me to see what.

"I don't mind, being the Wesley to your Buttercup… or the other way around if that's what you prefer."

He was making references now, to a movie he hated, for me. I couldn't understand why, but I couldn't help but think he was going to die on me. Wesley did die twice in the movie afterall. What was he trying to get at.

"So long as that means that you're my true love."

My heart sank at his words. What was he saying? What was he trying to tell me? I did like where this was going, I did like to think that we were meant to be, we worked so well together when he wasn't insulting my movies.

He held out his hand, closed around something, something I was certain would come with a question.

He opened it to show a small silver ring, it was a plain band, nothing on it. I couldn't have cared less about it's aesthetics however.

"So long as that means you'll marry me."