#helpmeidontknowwhatimdoing

I wont lie, I’m nervous about this. I just want to write stories and have people enjoy them, so here goes everything nothing I guess…

Resting his head on my shoulder, he whispers sweet nothings into my ear. He tells me all the ways in which he loves me. He tells me about the habits he loves to hate, the way I absentmindedly tap my fingers against the table when I’m focused, how I knit my brows together as I read. But then he shifts: starts telling me about his future; our future, the one with the house we’ll move into once school is far behind us. The house with duck-egg-blue windowsills and clean white walls. The fridge covered in the polaroids I insist on taking, the ones he secretly adores. He tells me about the children that will accompany us in this dream house; our children. Little copies of him and I. Now its my turn and I tell him that they’ll have his eyes, vibrant and strong in colour. They’ll have adopted his music taste as well, and I’ll adore the times he sings along with them to ACDC or Blink-182. They will sing the words so loud and so confidently, even though they won’t quite understand all the lyrics yet but their voices won’t falter. Now he makes a point to tell me all the ways in which they will remind him of me, he says they’ll have my smile, the one that imprints dimples on my cheeks. Apparently, they’ll have my laugh too, intense an infectious and he’ll love it all the same on them. He tells me he loves them already, despite the fact that they are ten years into the future, he says he loves them because they are the best parts of him, mixed with the best parts of me.