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“How do you know you love me?”

It comes out of his mouth like a defense, even if he didn’t mean it that way. You heard it in his tone; that same self-doubt and confusion that had surfaced when you first started expressing feelings for each other beyond friendship.

You turn to him, face etched in double the amount of confusion, but just as quickly as your brows furrowed, your expression melted.

It was only a matter of time before reassurance became a necessity in this relationship. And you didn’t mind it one bit.

If you had to tell Miguel enough times to count the stars in the sky, then you would. Because you knew he’d do the same for you.

You take a moment to look at him, lounging back on the other side of the couch. His body looks slack against the fluffy cushions, with the exception of his head which is turned to you. The fireplace illuminates one side of his face, further accentuating his already sharp features. You adored the way his feet hung off the recliner just slightly. You tell him to get a couch big enough for him already, but you knew his stubborn nature all too well. He liked how perfectly soft yet hard this one was. The man knew what he liked and he stuck to it.

He doesn’t look sad or worried but… focused. It’s a question that floats in his mind far more than he’d like to admit, but never really found the right time to ask. He’s not fishing for anything, it’s simply curiosity, nothing more (besides the tiny, lingering belief that maybe you deserved better, but when does that not cross someone’s mind?).

You think for a moment, but you know the answer. You’ve known the answer the moment you two became friends. If you had enough energy to speak all night, you would, but considering the already late hour, you knew you’d grow too tired and fall asleep anyway. This would have to be sweet and to the point. Plus, Miguel wouldn’t even begin to know how to take a compliment of that size anyways. At least not yet. Baby steps.

“Miguel,” you took a breath, lips curling in a distant smile. You look to the fire, as if all memories of you two played out in the flames.

“I see you in every cup of coffee I pass by, especially if it’s black,” you huff out your nose. Miguel is intrigued by this… rather hooking intro of an answer, but is nonetheless zeroed in, full attention on you,

“I see you in every sunny day, whipping out those sunglasses since you’re sensitive,

I see you in each book I read, thinking you’d enjoy it, too

I see you in each bite I take at a restaurant, knowing you’d have made it better at home,

I see your tapping foot every time I pass by the old man by the lake, and he’s playing boleros on his guitar,”

Then suddenly, a chuckle escapes beneath your pooling eyes, “Gosh, I even see you in the toothbrush aisle at the store, remembering which brand feels the nicest on your fangs,”

You then look to him finally, which was a mistake since you quickly speculate the sheen on his eyes isn’t just from the reflection of the embers that sit before you two. You could swear you see more of the wine of his eye, too. But alas, his face remains still as stone.

“Miguel, the truth is, I don’t know much about love… but what I do know is that I think about you all the time. I think of you even when you’re not around. I think of you… without even trying,”

You have to steady yourself, because you too are becoming emotional,

“I think of you so much, Miguel… I see you in everything I do. And I think that’s how I know I love you, and I love you so so so much.”

Miguel blinks, breaking the dam and letting that singular tear finally fall. He sniffles faintly and brushes it off like dust under a rug,

“I would’ve settled for ‘your looks’, but that works, too.”

Typical. You pour your heart out and Miguel responds with sarcasm. You both engage in a fit of giggles as you tackle him. He lets you get a few pillow swings in before trapping you with his body.

“I love you more, by the way. Just so we’re clear.”