you and me
It was early June, late at night with a quiet hum of crickets and cars passing by. He and I were laying in our old little apartment on our tiny mattress on the floor after sharing a cigarette in the cool midnight air, distracted by one another and aimlessly talking about how much we love each other and the adventures we would embark on together while keeping some kind of skin contact between us; we were holding hands, even on complete opposite sides of the bed, our feet at each other’s heads.
There was a comfortable silence that fell over us and he got up, scribbling something on the little sticky notes we wrote on to leave cute love letters to one another around the house. I took a minute to look on my phone and he stuck the note on my forehead with the most sheepish grin I’ve ever seen. I rolled my eyes at him and pulled it off and gaped at it – it was a saying in a completely other language.
“It’s in Gaelic.”
“What does it mean?”
“I can’t tell you. Find out.”
A few moments later, I searched it up on my phone and I let the smallest smile break through while containing the wild excitement in my chest. We’ve talked about marriage before we broke up, but it felt like an empty promise – this is when things were completely different. But, things are different now that we’re back together. The timid, embarrassed look on his face made me giggle. He was usually loud, confident, and so sure of himself.
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“What does it say exactly?”
“Please marry me, my lovely princess.” He started scrambling around the room for something and he ran around to my side of the bed and pulled me onto my feet as he kneeled in front of me with a Ring Pop we bought earlier as a snack,
“Michelle Anne Lui, will you please marry me? I want to spend the rest of my life with you-”
He slid the Ring Pop onto my ring finger and he wrapped his arms around my waist, snuggling his head into my stomach,
“I want to have babies with you, to start a family, to get my shit together with you, and I love you so fucking much. I am in love with you.”
I stared down at him in absolute adoration and awe and took a moment to enjoy our embrace.
“…yes. Yes, I will marry you, you idiot.”
I accepted, containing the burst of happiness that exploded inside of my body. It felt like an entire galaxy was created in my soul and he was the first planet to be discovered, sharing its life with my stars, comets, dark matter, and otherworldliness in me.
I hugged him back so tightly that I never wanted to let go and he stood up, picking me up in the process and threw me back on the bed. He attacked me with kisses and we laid down beside each other, snuggling into each other’s arms and we stared into each other’s eyes,
“Fiancé.” I murmured to him.
“Fiancée.” He said in a low hum.
“I like calling you that. My fiancé.”
We were silent for a heartbeat before he planted a kiss on my forehead.
“You’re mine.” he pulled me in closer into his chest before continuing, “My fiancée. My wife.”
I never knew the feeling I was experiencing even existed. It was indescribable.
“I know, bear. I know.”