Of course he loved her, it was absolutely
hard not to. To be near Clara was to become
enthralled, she walked in beauty. She kept
him on his toes, it was hard not to love every
tiny thing about her. Even her nose. But the
the Doctor couldn’t say it again. Not when he
felt utterly thick for feeling jealous over the
way he acted towards the other Doctor— he
sighed and shook his head; the Doctor barely
glanced up again. He felt stupid.
He didn't have to say it again; Clara could just
see it now in those timeless eyes of his. Silently,
soft footsteps carried her nearer to him. She didn't care
if he didn't like her hugs, because in the next moment
her arms were wound around him, her face buried in the
crook of his neck. ❝ I love you too, Doctor. This you. I
don't care that you've changed. You're still my Doctor.❞