PG, 550 words
sometimes she thinks she shouldn't be this happy - but that's stupid. everyone should be happy. it's just, she never expected to be so happy. she never expected to end up here, her chest tight with joy that feels like it's going to burst out of her with wings. she never expected all these smiles and all this laughter and all this warmth when she rolls into his arms at night and counts the shadows his lashes cast on his cheek.
she's a little afraid she's going to wake up and find out it's all been a dream, or that she's going to blink and everything will dissolve before her eyes like an illusion. it's terrifying but at the same time it's thrilling, every time her blood rushes in her ears and her heart rate doubles and triples and she falls all over again, into the warmth of his smile.
love is all these songs she never stops singing, all the romance books she's secretly read. love is grand gestures and sappy movies he confesses to watching. love is sunshine and flowers and chocolates on the right days, walks in the first snow, and every other cliché she has never really understood and has never really bothered with.
love is all these stories of once-upon-a-time and happily-ever-after, fairy tales and princesses and the knights who rescue them. it's every cheesy lyric that's ever been written into song, about love keeping you warm, love keeping you safe.
she doesn't know if she believes in these meant-to-bes, these promises of forever that the world seems to think love is made of. all she knows is that she doesn't understand it, this happiness she has with him. she doesn't know if they'll be together later, much less forever; she doesn't know if they should be together now.
she wonders about the little things - if they should hold hands in public, if her parents will like him. she wonders if they will have a life together, take a vacation together, write postcards and letters and sign them together (two names linked with an ampersand). she wonders if they can sing together, voices blending and harmonizing, and write a song just for them.
she doesn't know what the future will bring, doesn't know if this scary, thrilling feeling in her chest will ever fizzle and fade. she doesn't know if she'll ever stop being this happy but, she realizes, she doesn't care.
because (once-upon-a-time) she used to wonder if he would kiss her back. once-upon-a-time, she used to wonder if she was imagining the way those arms held her close or the way those lips whispered her name, like a secret. once-upon-a-time, she used to wonder and daydream and hope a whole other series of what ifs (what if he loves me? what if he doesn't? what if i tell him?).
sometimes she is terrified of how happy she is, with no guarantees, nothing more concrete than an arm over her shoulder and her name in his smile. but she takes a chance on the what ifs anyway.
it doesn't matter if they were never meant to be, because they ended up here anyway. and that's what counts.
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