The "Ho Hey" Contest
Story Title: The Way We Belong
Pen name: MrzEdCullen
Pairing: Edward & Bella
Rating: M (I think.)
Word Count: 5,860
There was a time.
There was a place.
Where things crashed and collided in such a beautiful and artistic way, you couldn't help but to be mesmerized.
That's exactly what she was.
In the rain.
In the autumn.
In the November promise of colder weather.
She was art.
She was imagination.
She was fantasy coexisting with reality.
Life was hard, but her existence made it somewhat bearable. High school still sucked in the way high school sucked. Parents were still annoying in the way they can't help but be. Friends were scarce, in the way they are when you're older in your mind than them, because you've seen things they haven't seen. Because you've lived things they haven't even dreamt of.
Days were still much too long for anyone's liking. Time was still that ambiguous enemy.
And nights…Nights were still the best thing that ever happened to lovers.
Under the stars and the moonlight, we survived. Her light shined so bright. Her spirit transcended worlds.
I'm standing in the middle of the meadow watching in awe as she glows in the night. I still can't believe I can witness this. I still can't believe this is happening. But it is. She's here. She exists. Because the human world we've known for years isn't all it appears to be. There are other dimensions; other creatures. She's just as alive as I am.
"Edward," She says with the most angelic voice I have ever heard. And I am hers. I don't mind if in the back of my mind I'm thinking I'm crazy. I feel like I'm talking to a hallucination.
But I'm surrendering to the feelings she evokes in me.
"How do you know my name?" I ask as she flutters around the meadow with all the sparkly magic that surrounds her.
"You're my sweetheart." She answers simply, locking purple eyes with me.
That's all it takes.
I follow her around the meadow as she talks about being a fairy, and how we are meant for each other.
I don't believe her.
"Come, love." She tells me, appearing in front of me.
She takes my hand and we soar.
She was what fairytales where made of. She was the essence of fairytales. She was magic and stardust.
She was love.
She once told me that her heart was soft and small. She told me how I was supposed to be her opposite; her complement. She said my heart was big and strong.
She had been waiting to find me, but I had been too busy missing the signals.
She spent my childhood, hiding behind clouds, waiting for me to look up.
I never did.
She said my head was always down. It broke her heart and made her all the more desperate. She told me she almost broke the rules and came down to talk to me. She knew she could make me feel better.
She was right.
I've lost count of how many times we've done this since I met her. It doesn't matter. There's no limit. But sometimes I wish I could know for sure, because it would put my mind at ease.
It would give my incredulous brain, some actual facts about what's happening.
So far there's no accurate number.
This is our thing; we meet, we love, we say goodbye.
Each time hurts more than the last.
That's a fact.
The way her scent is made out of heaven, that's a fact.
"Don't cry, love." She whispers and touches my face with one of her fingers.
"I'm not crying." I say because it's true. I'm not.
"I can feel your heart's sorrow." She says, placing her other hand in my chest. "Your tears are silent to human's ears, but not to me."
"What about my love?" I ask and she smiles.
"Your love is loud."
That's also fact.
Isabella Marie was an out of this world creature. She was a fairy that lived in some magic place unknown to humans. She was the great, grand-daughter of their most important being. She was the star of the prophecy that disrupted their world.
She was made for a mortal man. Her soul's other half wasn't another fairy, but a lost, green-eyed boy who had no clue.
I was made for her.
I belonged to her.
That was the most absolute truth. In the mist of all the chaos and lies that surrounded my life, her love was the only thing I believed.
I'm awake. It's late. I clutch the silver cuff she gave me to remind myself she's real. This silver cuff is the only tangible thing I have to believe in her. My memories can only do so much. I often find myself trying to prove that my brain is playing with me. Most of the time, I make lists about how, somewhere along the line, I've lost my sanity.
She got tired of my restless mind one day and gave me the cuff. Its weight reminds me of her soft touch.
My parents are fighting downstairs about something stupid, as always.
I can't sleep.
Isabella. My mind screams, but I don't call for her.
I don't want her to come here. I like meeting her in the meadow, but I can't sneak out tonight.
I fall asleep dreaming about kissing her.
There were rules to our meetings, rules and otherworldly laws to our love. I couldn't call her name more than three times a week. She could only come to me without my calling, only once a month.
Of course, I couldn't tell anyone about her and she couldn't make her presence known to anyone but me.
She wasn't allowed to use her magic on me. I wasn't allowed to ask for wishes. She wasn't a genie.
There were questions I couldn't ask. Or maybe there were things she wasn't allowed to answer. That was a problem.
I needed information. I needed to believe she was real and that I wasn't going mad.
But I would've been okay with never knowing about her past and her secrets. I would've been okay with never experiencing her magic on me, because those were rules I could live with. Those weren't cruel rules.
The cruelest of them all was we weren't allowed to kiss.
Life was still unfair.
"Edward, stop it." She says as I hold her to my chest.
"I just want to spend more time with you." I say to her hair, hiding the tears that threaten to fall.
"It's not how it works, love." She tells me, looking at me with her vibrant eyes.
"This isn't right."
"Please touch me." I beg.
"Be still." She says and runs her fingers down my face. It's a whisper-like touch; quiet, hidden, and timid. Her hands are cold, like usual, but she warms my entire body. When she gets to my lips, I tense and relax at the same time.
She caresses my bottom lip with her index finger and I shiver. Her eyes are set on my mouth and for a second, I think she will lean in and close our distance. I'm glued to the ground. I wouldn't be able to move if I tried.
All at once, her hand is gone and I'm cold. She's at the far end of the meadow in a second. I call for her to come closer to me. We haven't really said goodbye yet. She doesn't seem to want to, but she listens to me anyway. As fast as she was across the meadow, she's in front of me again.
"I have to go." Her voice sounds as broken as I feel. I nod, because I don't trust my voice.
She takes my hand in hers and holds them up between us. I kiss my own hand at the same time she kisses hers. I see a tear run down her face before she disintegrates in front of me.
Love was exuberant. I bubbled with feelings and emotions for her. It was so difficult to live with. Difficult for me to lead a normal life, when I knew extraordinary things.
Each day, getting out of bed seemed like the hardest thing in the world. I didn't want to face anything or anyone. I didn't want to pretend to be paying attention in school. I didn't want to see people looking at me like the outcast I was.
I just wanted her.
"Cullen, wake the fuck up." Jasper yells, tossing a pencil at me. It hits me on the side of the head.
"What?" I snap at him, annoyed.
"I've been talking to you." He says, and mutters a curse at the end. I can't be bothered at all by his obvious irritation towards me.
"What?" I ask again, not meeting his eyes.
"I told you that chick is checking you out." He tells me slowly while pointing out a girl in a cheerleader outfit, standing at end of the hallway. "Go talk to her." He nudges me. I stay put against my locker.
"Why not?" He presses, finding my eyes.
Because I belong to someone else, my mind and heart scream inside me.
"Not interested." I answer instead, looking away from him.
"Are you gay?" He asks all of a sudden.
"There's no way a straight guy wouldn't want that hot piece of ass." He says, and I look back at him, only to find him staring at her.
"Well, I'm a straight guy and I'm not interested."I tell him.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He snaps, searing his proving gaze back at me.
Her not being here with me.
Her not being human, but still being made for me.
"Nothing." I say, shrugging. Silence falls between us and the 'hot chick' walks out of sight from us.
"Listen, I know things at home are not…" He starts.
"Shut up, okay? Just shut up." I stop him, already walking away from him.
Things at home are history. The place where I live hasn't been a 'home' for a long time now. Dad is always drunk, and Mom is always high with her meds. Love has been replaced by unhealthy addictions. I'm caught in the middle of their dysfunctional marriage.
On the best days, they ignored each other and things are quiet for a few hours. When they're not trying to tear each other apart, they side against me.
I was so close to the edge when Isabella showed up.
She saved me.
I don't know how I survived my life without her.
Even though she's not always with me, her existence is reason enough for me to keep living.
If someday, she's no longer here…neither will I be.
When I wasn't with her, I was missing her. I dreamed of her so many times I lost count. She was the center of my thoughts and the echo of my every heart beat.
She was always the most important thing.
Some days, I thought I wouldn't be able to get through the next second without her.
Other days, I thought about asking her, demanding her to set me free, because I was convinced I was going to lose it.
I questioned my sanity a lot when it came to her.
But she was real.
And she was mine.
And I was hers.
That was all that mattered.
"I've been trying to do it right." She whispers in my ear, playing with my hair.
"Helping you, being with you without breaking any rule." She tells me, looking me in the eye. I nod silently and rest my head in her lap. She continues to twist locks of my hair between her fingers.
"You didn't call for me yesterday. I wanted to come and see you, but I'm saving this month's visit." I don't say anything.
"You were so sad last night." She says. Her voice sounds soft and broken. "I wanted to touch your heart and make it better. I wanted to chase your sorrow away."
"I've been living a lonely life." It's all I say.
"You're not alone anymore." She vows.
I nod and fall asleep in her arms.
My Dad died on the last day of my junior year. A heart attack; it was quick, he was alone. The funeral was simple and short. I didn't cry. Neither did Mom.
Later that night, Isabella came to my room.
That was the visit of the month she had saved.
"How is she?" Jasper asks, referring to my mother.
"Alive." I answer, and I wonder if that's an accurate answer. Is numbing yourself with pills called living?
"How are you?"
"Okay, I guess." I say, and we fall into to the uncomfortable silence that always seems to follow me.
"You need something good in your life."
I have something good. I have something amazing. I have her.
I almost tell him.
Summer was more than sun rays and late nights. It was the start of a new chapter. That's what I told myself.
That's what she made me believe.
"Do you see that?" She asks excitedly. The light in her purple eyes blinds me.
"Yes." I nod, looking at the waves of color happening in front of me. It stops when she flicks her wrist again. I grab it before she retreats it to her side and pull her to me.
We stand hugging each other tightly for a moment. Her head rests in my chest and my chin rests on top of her hair. I wish I could live in this moment forever.
"I showed you escape." She tells me, looking up to my eyes.
"Do it again." I say, because I want to see her in her element. I want to see her manipulating life, and light and illusion.
"I can do so much better." She whispers to the buttons of my shirt.
My heart rate accelerates.
"Show me family," I tell her, not even sure of what I'm asking for.
One day, she talked about the future, but I didn't understand her. Not at the time.
She said something about sacrifice.
She said something about leaving what you know.
I didn't know who was supposed to leave what, and when.
I agreed with her, because I kept hoping it was going to be me; that I would be the one to sacrifice everything for her. Because I would've, gladly. I didn't have anything to begin with. My life started when she came to me.
I would've walked away from my worthless world in an instant, for an eternity with her.
I never realized what she meant that day, until it was too late.
"My world is getting disrupted." Her voice is sad and I feel the need to burn the world down to make her happy again. The urge to do anything to see her smile, is overwhelming.
"Why?" I ask touching the frown in her face.
"Things need to be done for our future to happen."
"What things?" I inquire.
"Rituals, meetings, agreements," her voice sounds distracted. She's not here with me right now. She's seeing things inside her head that I'm unable to see.
"Love," The word falls from my lips and it brings her back to me. It's scary how much power we have over each other. Her eyes focus back on me, as her hand touches my cheek.
"No, sweetheart, don't trouble yourself with this. It will happen and it'll be okay. It's meant to be."
"What will happen? I don't understand." It's her turn to rub her fingers over my frown.
"It's not meant for you to understand."
"Isabella, please." I beg, touching her hands, searching her eyes. She shakes her head and flies out of my grasp.
"My family knows we have to be together. The story has been in our books for years. I was supposed to fall in love with a human boy and I did." She tells me, smiling her designed-for-me smile, at the end of the last sentence.
"I'm in love with you too." I whisper. And I fell in love with you, too, I whisper.
"I wish you could tell me more. I feel like I know nothing. It's so frustrating." I say, raking my hand through my hair, while wishing my DNA had some kind of alteration to make me inhuman.
"You know everything you need to know, Edward." She reminds me, appearing back in front of me, to play with the lock of hair that fell onto my forehead.
"So you keep saying." I mutter and she laughs an angelical laugh, saying something about my pout. I smile at her humor until her laughter dies.
"I wish I could kiss you." She says in a soft voice, tracing my lips with her fingers. I take a sharp breath as warmth travels down my body. I reach out to touch her face and watch when her lust turns her eyes even brighter.
We stand like this until we say goodbye for the night.
The stars, the green grass, and the moonlight watch as our longing carves our souls.
Sex was needed, craved, desired…
We weren't safe from carnal urges. I wanted to be inside her. I wanted her light to consume me. I wanted to drink her magic and her fire. I wanted her to extinguish the darkness that had taken hold of me.
But most of all, I wanted to understand. I wanted a more physical proof that we were truly made for one another. I wanted to feel the two halves of our souls becoming one.
I wanted her breaths and moans in my ear; her wanton cries as she came undone.
But of course, I couldn't have it.
Not at that time, anyway.
"You look flustered." Isabella says as I walk into our meadow. She's on me in a second, touching my chest, my forehead, my arms. She moves fast, making it impossible for me to stop her. It doesn't help the situation of why I'm flustered in the first place.
"I'm okay. Please stop." She halts her movements in an instant and I realize it's the first time I've asked her not to touch me.
"You don't want my hands on you?" She asks slowly. Her face looks confused, shocked and hurt at the same time.
"I always want you to touch me." I tell her, smiling.
"Then why ask me to stop?" Her hand hovers over my chest. I take it and place it over my heart.
"Because it affects me too much, and I can't act on it." I say honestly. There's nothing but confusion in her features now.
"I'm not following."
Between sighs, ramblings and awkwardness, I remind her of my never ending lust for her. We've had this type of conversation before, but it feels like a foreign concept to her.
The Fairies mating ritual is the same as humans, with a few differences. Those differences lie in the ability of the female to enjoy it, or to even want it. Mating only occurs to procreate, not to enjoy.
Yet, sometimes, I wonder if that's entirely true. All those times she has come close to kissing me; the desire in her eyes when she looks at my mouth.
"Things will fall into place eventually." She says, bringing me out of my thoughts. Despite my body's traitor needs, she's sitting with her back to my chest, between my legs. No matter how painful it is, I can't stop myself from wanting her near me.
"When will that happen?" The question is meant to be metaphorical and ironic, but she answers it anyway.
The first time she didn't answer my call, I felt numb. There was no panic or frantic desperation. I was just filled with the big hole of nothing that plagued me before she came into my life.
"Isabella?" I call in the middle of the night after a week of nothing. This signifies the third time her name escapes my lips without her presence following behind.
The meadow is not beautiful anymore. The moon is opaque, lonely and judgmental. The grass is dry.
This place is nothing but a congregation of dirt an abandoned trees without her.
There's no light or beauty or spark if she's not here.
I am empty.
The fourth time she didn't answer, relief wanted to crawl its way inside me. Her sudden absence meant there was a high possibility that she wasn't real, and that I was probably delusional. For some reason, that made me feel better. If she wasn't real, or mine, or anything, it meant I hadn't lost her.
It meant she hadn't left me.
But the silver cuff on my wrist screamed otherwise.
"Where are you? Isabella, I'm calling for you." I say in my room, looking out my window and furiously scratching my wrist. I feel crazy. I can almost feel my mind working to make me see how all my nights with her were part of my imagination.
The worst part is pushing my brain to show me I was insane.
I want her to be unreal.
I want to be the one who is messed up in the head; because that makes sense.
Me, having love in my life, doesn't.
It took me a month of calling her, until I started to worry. In my stupidity and self-centeredness, it never occurred to me that she could be in danger, or injured.
I begged in vain for a sign that she was okay.
And just like the first time, I missed it.
"What the fuck is up with this rain?" Jasper complains when he enters the cafeteria. He shakes his soaked boots onto a carpet that's been placed at the entrance. I don't know how long the carpet's been there. I don't know much about time timeframes these days.
He sits next to me on the floor and watches me. His stare is unnerving.
"It's Forks. It rains." I say, shrugging. I rub my silver cuff nonstop, and avoid his eyes, while looking at the water falling from the sky. I admit it's been raining nonstop for a while now. I'm not sure for how long.
Time is an ambiguous concept without her.
"Yes, but not like this. This is getting out of hand." He says. I stay silent; because I'm not sure what he wants me to say. "It's like there's something happening up there," He goes on, and the words up there capture my attention. I look back to him with a frown. He seems far away.
"Chaos. Someone up there must wants us to know that shit is going down." He says. I stroke my memento faster.
"You know, in Heaven or whatever. This rain is not fucking normal. In some alternative universe a fucking war must be taking place." He says, and I can feel my heart waking up to tug at my chest. I can feel my breathing accelerate.
Isabella could be in danger.
There could be a war taking place right now. As the thought enters my mind, I can feel hope and dread fighting inside me.
I can hope that she's okay and real, and that she hasn't come because something's going on. Or I can dread the fact that she's in danger and that she hasn't come because something happened to her.
I can't see straight anymore.
I feel like throwing up.
I'm locked in place, my eyes searching Jasper's eyes. Does he know something? Am I not alone in this? "I know, don't mind me," he says. "I'm stoned."
That day I feel alive, for the first time in a long while. Adrenaline courses through my body as I walk to the meadow as soon as I'm out of school. My steps are strong and determined. The place still looks dead without her, but it also feels with purpose.
If there's a war, and she needs help, I need to save her.
She's mine to save.
"Isabella? What's going on? Are you okay?" I ask frantically, looking around.
"Come on, I'm going crazy down here." I say, grabbing my hair in frustration. "Where are you?" I ask, looking up to the sky. The strong raindrops blind me. I get down on my knees and stupidly, irrationally, start searching for any trace of her.
Night falls and I barely notice. I scrape grass and dirt until my hands bleed. I run in circles between fallen, wet leaves and sad trees, looking for her, begging her to show up.
"Please, just… give me something." I whisper. "Send me a sign." I beg with a broken voice.
As the fight starts to leave my body, I fall to the ground with tears in my eyes; tears that I've tried to hold in, ever since she stopped showing. Tears that I thought weren't necessary because I thought she wasn't real; because I thought I had nothing to mourn.
But as memories of our time together invade me, I can't stop the broken sobs that escape me. The gut wrenching pain I feel at not knowing where she is, how she is, why she left.
Because she was real.
Because she was mine.
"I love you, I love you." I cry into the empty space, wishing she's listening, somewhere. Hoping she's okay enough to see me.
"I'm so sorry I doubted you, sweetheart. I'm so sorry." I add as I cry and lose myself in my grief.
The rain never stops. It is instead joined by thunder.
There was something cathartic about crying. It cleansed the soul. It also helped me acknowledge that I wasn't crazy, and that somehow, life had thrown me into a fantasy tale.
I tried moving on, after that day in the meadow. I convinced myself to take lead of my life. I couldn't deal with the aura of uncertainty that surrounded me. Knowing about her gave me too many unanswerable questions. There were too many blind spots in my vision.
The rain stopped eventually, but I never realized the exact date.
So I gave myself to numbers.
I graduated high school with an okay record, but it was enough to get me accepted to the college I had applied to last minute.
I decided to be an accountant. Numbers were easy; controllable. There was nothing extraordinary about numbers.
They were fact. But above all, they weren't magical.
And I needed that in my life more than anything.
It's 3:00 am and I can't sleep. This is nothing new.
I've never been able to sleep peacefully. But in the last two years, sleep seems like an inconceivable achievement. My dreams haunt me, so I avoid them. I close my eyes, and I see purple. I see impossibility. I see things that couldn't have happened. Suppressing those memories when I'm awake is manageable. Not easy, but possible. I can't control my thoughts when I'm asleep, though.
So here I am, staring at the cracked ceiling of my dorm.
I've counted those 352 broken bits every day for the past 22 months. They haven't changed since I got here. It's like they're suspended in time.
Much like I am.
The day she showed up at my door, I thought I had died. Then I thought I was seeing things. Then I thought I had lost it.
I went through different stages, from shock, to denial, to incredulity. It all happened in seconds.
She looked different; still beautiful and perfect and ethereal, but different.
It's another sleepless night for me.
I'm sitting in front of my desk, scribbling and re-solving problems that I already know are right.
I don't want to sleep. Today's been harder than ever, and I can't place the reason. I feel the never-ending tug at my heart that's become part of my day to day life. It pulses in time with my wrist, where my cuff still rests.
I still haven't been able to take it off.
I'm in the middle of solving a new problem that I wasn't assigned to do, when I feel my seams pull tighter.
A shift in the air.
A desperate need for hope inside me.
A smell I know all too well. I suffocate in it.
The silver burns my skin and I feel the need to finally take it off, but I can't.
If I thought I was crazy before, I had no idea. I really feel like falling apart. Or falling back into place.
Acting on instinct alone, I walk to my door. And before I touch the doorknob, I know.
"Edward?" She whispers as soon as the door opens. I'm shocked and unmoving as I watch her lips curve into a tentative smile. I fight giving in to happiness and relief. The things surging and tumbling inside me are unnamable. Just too much for me to grasp and handle and distinguish from one another.
"Love," She says, reaching out to touch me.
Her hand on my chest sets my veins and blood aflame, and I can't resist the basic need to touch her. I crush her to my body and give in to my desires.
I know nothing.
I'm lost and found.
But I touch her, and I'm reborn.
At last, we kiss.
It's the home I never owned.
Our first kiss was like the coolest breeze on the hottest day. Her lips touching my own, moving with me were Heaven.
Her scent was nothing compared to her taste. I died in her arms from inexplicable, uncontrollable happiness. Happiness I never knew until she came along.
She felt soft and breakable, but still strong enough to be my everything. She didn't shine like the moon and the stars, but her eyes were firework-bright.
Explications weren't given that day. They weren't needed. They didn't matter.
Kissing was the only thing we did that night.
The sun rose and moved around, almost setting before we eventually stopped. Sleepy kisses at the end were a different kind of glory all in itself.
Falling sleep together was what peace was made of.
After sleep, I watched her eat for the first time. And there were lots of kissing and giggles and smiles and disbelieving. And asking if she was really here, and losing myself in her sky-blues. And touching her chest to feel her heartbeat, and returning to the comfort of breathing the same air as she did.
And we talked.
She told me.
I pretended to listen.
She was too captivating and too real. I couldn't concentrate of her tale about announcing to her world that she was leaving. Yes, there was chaos; that was the rain. Yes, she sent the sign; it was the thunder.
When the citizens of her land finally accepted, she had to get rid of her magic. That was what took the longest; draining her body of all the substances that gave her powers. She spent a few months learning to be human, getting used to her new needs.
She told me how much she missed me and how the more magic she lost, the more difficult it was to keep track of me. How that made her cry for days. How my pain ate her away. How lost she felt when the sound of my heartbeat became too distant for her human senses to hear.
We spent the first few months, in a reconnection phase. She brought me back from the empty cave I had become, and unbelievably enough, she made me human again.
We pretended for society to be the normal 'dating couple' but we knew better. No human label was ever going to be enough to name our out-of-this-world-handmade-love.
I made love to Isabella Marie for the first time on a summer afternoon. Ray lights painted our bodies as we became the one we were always supposed to be. I loved her with my fingertips, my lips and my lashes; with every part of my being and my soul. Everything I had, I gave it to her, again and again until we couldn't take more.
She gave me back everything I gave her, in an unstoppable motion. We were waves of the sea, flowing in a precise rhythm; to give each other the connection we craved. We drowned in overflowing, everlasting passion.
Life after that was pretty much easy; joyous. Friends re-found and introduced. Moments lived and cherished. Normal stuff that wasn't normal, because we weren't. But our anomaly wasn't discouraging. It was empowering.
Doubts never plagued us. We were confident of our forever.
…here I sit, four years later, giving myself away to words instead of numbers. Trying to capture on paper what our love is. I write nonstop, all day, every day. I don't want to miss anything. I don't want to forget anything.
Someday, someone is going to read this and is going to learn to believe. There will be a time and a place for things to crash and collide in a beautiful, artistic way.
Because, every once in a thousand years, fairytales become reality.
Dreams come true.
Happily ever after happens.
And under the moonlight, lovers survive.
I look up from my journal, and see Bella tapping her foot by the door.
I give her a smile and stand up to join her. Our room is littered with papers that are filled with our story. With my ink, and my heart, poured all over them. And she, in her very, human- girl way, complaints about the mess, every day.
It's the cutest thing.
When I reach her outside of our house, I kiss her lips and erase her pout. Minutes later, I'm driving to the park that has become our favorite place. It reminds us of our meadow. I marvel at the way every Sunday, she enjoys the view and the ride, as if it were her first time.
She loves everything. Her heart is big enough to love a single grain of sand on the beach, as well as entire galaxies.
She's bigger than life.
"Are you ready, sweetheart?" I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt.
"I was always ready." She answers. I kiss her hands and get out of the car to open her door.
Her white dress touches the floor, but it doesn't catch any dirt. She looks as pure and perfect as she's always been.
We walk away together towards the setting sun, towards the last human tradition left to follow.
And magic still exists.
It's in her smile, and her touch, and her love.
It's in the way her happiness matches my own.
It's in the way I was made for her.
In the way she says I do, love.
It's in the way she is mine, as I am hers.
It's in the way we belong.