A/N : I wrote this fic as a Secret Santa gift to Meg_icy, whose username was inspired by a memorable, defining scene in Chryed history.
The name and the scene in turn inspired me to write this little piece of fiction.
This is how I imagined it to be for both of them...
Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 : C H O I C E

C H R I S T I A N

"I choose you"

He says it quietly. My heart leaps at the mere sound of those words. Those three little words I have longed to hear for so long. And now he's said them. Sounds so sure. But I don't believe him. I don't allow myself to believe him. How can I? After everything we've been through... after all that hope that has been crushed so many times before. I can't afford to believe him.

And so I defy him. Defy them. Those three beautiful words. I stubbornly refuse to believe that he's finally made his choice. That his choice is me. Me!
But he won't let off. He doesn't believe my disbelief. Unwavering, he stands before me, and makes his case. Insists. He knows who he is now. He knows what he wants. He says it again. Quietly, not one word above the other, but emphasizing each and every one of them. Willing me to hear.

But it's not his words that make my resistance crumble. It's his eyes. Shining, confident. Full of love and promise. And something... something I haven't seen in them before. Utter and complete conviction. Absolute certainty and not a fraction of doubt.

And then he touches me. My heart lurches. His fingertips flutter against my jaw, my chin, my neck, feather-like, and his face is serious and intent as he watches me sigh in response. Sigh in relief. The only thing I'm aware of is his eyes, and the warmth of his hand as he touches my face.

"I... I don't think you can go to hell for having loved" he softly says. I hear it. I know what it means. But it leaves me speechless. He waits. My face is in his hand, and his eyes are locked onto mine. He waits - until he is sure I am paying attention to his words. He waits until I believe.
And I finally do.

A glimpse of a movement over his shoulder catches my eye. His parents. He turns around and faces them.
And in their eyes I see that they know. They see the same thing I just did. He chooses me.

"Let's go home" I say and turn around. Start walking. I don't wait for him. I don't turn around to see if he follows. Because I know he will. After what I just saw in his eyes, I don't have an ounce of doubt. He's coming home with me.

And after all, it's still up to him. It's still his choice. It has to be his. His alone.

I feel his hand tentatively touch my back as we walk away. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Maybe I wasn't as sure as I made out to be. His fingers graze the small of my back, and they send shivers down my spine. I hold back the urge to cry out with joy. Instead, I swing my arm around his shoulder and pull him in.

We're going home.

He's chosen me.