They say familiarity breeds contempt, but clearly they haven't spent even a second with you. I don't know when I first looked over towards you and caught your amber eyes on me, gentle as daybreak. Usually, your gaze is calculating, somewhere lost around us, stepping into the role of my personal guard without anything holding you back from that job.
I can't even begin to say how things changed with you. Perhaps it was one of the nights where I couldn't sleep, and you were near, as if every moment apart created more danger, just like it had when we'd visited Prince Raji, though we weren't apart when I was kidnapped. You are cautious and concerned, a genuine level of care hidden somewhere deep in your eyes.
You'd let me ask about your life before you worked for Zen, and you'd opened up about the little things, none of the big ones. You'd talked about the people you worked with the most, shared a hint of humor through funny anecdotes and avoided mentioning at all what you were hired to do. I didn't ask for anything else, just listened, got caught in the smooth baritone of your voice accidentally, saw something akin to warmth light up your eyes.
Maybe I fell for you then, saw something warm and friendly, something strong and resilient in you. Maybe I was tired, and your voice made me feel warm and safe. I'm still not sure, even as I can remember so much of what you said that night and often other nights. You have been there for me so well, that it's hard to feel lonely, because I know that you are always a conversation away, ready to talk about almost anything.
One day, I let someone offer me a drink all over again, and when my legs proved shaky and I was stumbling, you offered to carry me back. Your fingers felt like a live wire against my legs as you hoisted me on to your back. Your back was sturdy and held me up so very easily, and yet I'd never felt warmer.
Obi, I still have no idea how being around you so much spins my head in circles, warms my heart, and puts me at peace. You've become someone that I rely on more than I had ever really expected to with anyone else before.
They say familiarity breeds contempt, but clearly they haven't spent even a second with you. I began to fall the first time we'd really talked one on one, Miss. You'd forgiven me, and talked so warmly with me that something like a fire that always had been unlit was lit within me. I'd felt a spark, a starter, when I caught you, and you'd offered me forgiveness as if I'd never even shot an arrow at you not too long before.
Every time we spent time together after that, it grew. I had an inferno before I even knew that it might become a problem. You are so brave that back before I knew you, I could not even scare you off with an arrow. You took it with you as evidence, and you even stood up to Marquis Haruka, as if he was no match for your fiery spirit.
You've always shown such strength of will, that as surprising as it is, always manages to save you whenever everything is stacked against you. It hadn't taken long by your side before I was caught up in everything that makes you, you, Miss. I look to you with the same honor and respect I give Master, because you have earned way more than that.
Just every moment more, you earn a little more of my heart. It's something that is just for you; it beats with ease as if you commanded it to. My heart has never rested and given up on you, instead it only grows more sure of you, and that inferno that sparks at your touch only grows stronger still.
Familiarity only brought my heart more to you, Miss, even when I thought you couldn't receive more of it than you already had.
They are always together, and you would think a sever would form. Instead, there was something as delicate as a recently bloomed flower between them, something so light that it was easily missed. Yet, if his fingers looped steadily over hers one day out of the blue, and she shot a radiant smile back up at him in response, it wasn't a surprise.
There were a collection of little moments of the pretty herbalist and her strong guard as if there was something else in the air, rather than just the responsibilities of their particular jobs. Like when she held up an herb and explained how it's recognized by its scent, and he leans down and smells it.
Or when they are taking a break, eating lunch in a quiet picnic for two. They don't talk like a couple; there are no pet names, no talk of couple-y things. They talk of memories, the past, their jobs, anything but what others expect. Yet, when vivid green eyes look up to meet warm amber ones, there's something special just for each other in the gaze, something otherwise unspoken.
They were always together, and the tender care of their friendship like the herbs she cared for, grew into something even more incredible than what it used to be.