It was not in the way flirtatious remarks fell from his lips with ease or the sizzling, mindboggling way that sex felt with him.
It was in the simple and genuine gestures that spoke volumes.
It was the way that he could remember just how I liked my tea or how he always knew just when and where to stop his teasing before it started to hurt.
It was the way that he catered to my needs before his own and the fact that he always knew what I needed and what I wanted with out me having to tell him.
It was that rather than celebrate an independence that he had helped establish, he'd get wasted with me to the point that the next morning, he would look like he had went through Hell.
He wouldn't fuss over his looks like normal, but focus on how I felt.
It was the way that he truly knew when I hated him or had difficulty expressing myself.
It was the way that he'd listen to my drunken ramblings as well as my not so drunken ramblings.
It was the way that he took all of my insults in stride, and didn't let them hurt him.
It was the way that he let his walls fall down around me and mine likewise.
The moments of genuine compliments that you'd think were rare but weren't that he would tell me.
It was the gentle touches of affection that he graced my body with like I was a piece of art.
It was his understanding when it came to my work or my reading that I was to be left alone for a little while.
It was the gentle kisses that while chaste when placed on my body that contained more emotion that the world had ever seen before.
The reason why I loved him was the fact that he was his whole self around me, and he loved as well as cherished me.