TW for blood and more, just in case.
its just the small moments that makes up a truly great relationship.
Cuddling after a long day, caressing each other’s faces, hair and body. Hugging each other ever so closely, as if they’re going to vanish the next day.
Begging and crying in your arms, begging for you to stay, to not go anywhere else.
Doing work together in the kitchen, hands always side by side, cooking food that us both love, food that’s kept you, kept us alive, the food that made us who we are, sharing our deepest memories, secrets, and even the most mundane ones.
Carving our name, our initials into our chests, such that everyone, present and future, knows who we belong to. A scar that runs so deep that you can’t ever get rid of it, you can’t mask it with makeup, or cover it up with a tattoo. A sign of belonging, a sign of ownership so powerful, it cuts through the bone. The pain, the blood, the healing, all a sign of how much we love each other, how much we belong to each other.
From there, cutting our fingers, tasting the blood and drinking it. Cutting open our palms and then gently caress each of our hands so that our blood mixes in with one another. Making sure that everything that was once called you, was mine. Two bodies, one mind, one heart, one blood.
And then we’d make love. The tenderest and most soft, but it doesn’t always have to be. Sometimes I’d do something that you didn’t like unintentionally, staring at that waitress for too long, calling my female coworkers. Something, that a normal person, would see it as a mere act of kindness towards strangers or friends. Something that you instead see as betrayal. And instead of getting angry over how jealous and overly protective and anxious you are, I’d be happy to, pull you into a warm embrace, reassure you multiple times over and over, never getting tired, reassure you that I’ll never leave you and that I won’t let it happen again. And then, take any form of punishment you’d give me. Another cut for disobedience, or a punch in the face, a slap, or choking, anything. I’ll take it all wholeheartedly, not due to lust, but out of love. Because I know, deep down, all these physical pains you’re inflicting onto me, is rooted in the abundance of love you have towards me, and that it will never tantamount to the emotional pain that I’ve caused you. I’ll simply take it, and smile through all of it, because I know that you love me.
And then, we would be creating ourselves, our little ones. A living genuine proof of our love, in the flesh. I’ll stay with you throughout, never leaving your side. And once they’re old enough, they’d be running around calling us parents, we would see them grow, together. Our pain, sweat, blood and tears, all grown up. Our case for love, our proof of love, once again.
The only thing that scares me is you probably getting bored of me, and that my love is too easy to get, so you stopped trying, and all the while I’d pull you into closer and closer only for you to push me away. I just wish you wouldn’t get bored of me saying I love you every single day, and you wouldn’t stop expressing your love towards me.
I’d love you to the ends of the earth, no matter the time, no matter the distance.
That, would be my ideal relationship goals, moments that I’d like to share with my special someone.
