AN: Hey guys, long time no post! Been so busy with uni work and the like so I have had no time to write anything. So I took some time off from writing my essay about "South East Asia National Identities and Their Implications to the Pacific" (boring, yes I know) to finish off this little fluff piece I had lying around. Anyways, read and review like normal and enjoy your weekend!
Based off of The Book of Love by Peter Gabriel.
The Book of Love
The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
But I
I love it when you read to me
And you
You can read me anything
She remembers him reading to her. She remembers the title of the book. She remembers the introduction... And not much else.
The book was incredibly long and complex. Just the way she likes it. Not for the content within the book, but for the way his Texan drawl infiltrates the long and complicated words, to her it's better than a lullaby.
He did it for the scientific experiment on subconscious osmosis, she did it for the way she loved curling into his shoulder and feeling his heartbeat. It was always perfectly timed to the beats of the syllables. The way she always felt so safe within his arms, the way he always wanted to protect her from everything out there that could do her harm.
The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything
He remembers her singing to him. He remembers what the song is called. He remembers the introduction... And not much else.
The song was sweet and soft. Just the way he likes it. Not for the way that she sings the melody, but for the way her sweetness coats every word and makes him think that the words are the truth, to him it's the better than Meemaw's lullabies.
She did it to help him finally put his complex mind to rest; he did it for the way she always sang the right thing, the right way. It was always the best way to fall asleep after a long day, the way she always managed to manipulate his body out of the "vampire pose" and into something that they could cuddle with throughout the night. The way he let her think she was changing him while he was asleep, but he knew he wouldn't rest until she was softly breathing next to his side.
The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know
But I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings
She remembers the church. He remembers everything. She remembers his nervousness... And they remember the words.
The words weren't clinical. Just the way she likes it. She didn't cry. Just the way he likes it. Happy tears or not, they make him ache inside. It was altogether, as seamless as a lullaby.
She did it because she loves him. He does it because he loves her. It was always the best way to end a long day, to know they would be heading home to each other. Then came along something they didn't expect, and for a moment, it altered the lullaby.
So they changed the tune and added another melody to an already complex song. Their twins were beautiful and they couldn't wait until they were old enough to tell them about the song they had used for their entire lives.