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So yeah, I quit smoking a year and a half ago since I refuse the very notion of causing my Bran any form of health hazard namely the stupid second-hand smoke. Besides, he helped me all the way through it. Just kidding. When it got a bit too much and I craved a smoke, he became his pragmatic stern self and announced a ban: either I touch him or a cigarette. I quit within the week, thank you very fucking much.
I don’t want to ever, and I mean ever, get used to the feeling of sleeping in an empty bed. I prefer the bed where he pulls my head against his chest and strokes my hair until I fall asleep. A bed where I can hug him from behind and kiss his nape as we drift off.
psycho. Anyway, this one was special, and not only because it was his first solo. Most of his paintings were of me and my tattoos, but the center painting, the one that I begged Dad to spend over a million pounds from my trust fund on just so I could have it for myself forever, is my favorite. I still have it as my lock screen. It’s the one painting he couldn’t finish all those years ago. The one where I’m standing and he’s leaning against my shoulder. He finally managed to draw his own face, and this time, he’s fucking smiling.
“I missed you so fucking much. Totally not flying without you by my side anymore.”
“You better not leave me again,” he whispers. “I couldn’t sleep without you.” “What the fuck? You told me to stop being a baby every night we spoke on the phone.” “Well, I didn’t want to stress you out. That doesn’t mean it was any easier for me, you know.”
“You’re totally coming to the States with me. Or I’m staying here. Jeremy and Vaughn will kill me, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay.” “I told you I’ll come over. I can work from anywhere.” “Thank fuck.”
But my lotus flower can’t seem to get enough of me as much as I can’t get enough of him.
I kid you not. Once, Kill threw a lighter at my head since he loves hitting me with random shit. Bran threw it back at his head and told him point-blank not to hit me anymore or he wouldn’t stand for it.
I trail off when I face my lotus flower and he’s on one fucking knee. What the…? “That scene was our beginning, as unglamorous as it was. No matter how scared I was of you and everything you presented, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re the purest, most passionate soul I’ve ever met. You loved me when I didn’t even like myself. You held me together when I was falling apart and helped me put myself back together one piece at a time until I became the man I am today.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a dark-blue velvet box, then opens it to show two rings. “I love you more than
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The words aren’t fully out of his mouth when I fall to my knees in front of him and drag his lips to mine, kissing him like a fucking madman until I’m lost in him and he’s breathing my air. He wrenches his lips back but seals his forehead to mine. “Is that a yes?”
“Fuck yes, baby. I’ll marry the fuck out of you and make you my husband today if you want.” His grin nearly blinds me as he slips the ring onto my finger. The inside is engraved with a fucking lotus flower and N X B. “Good.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles over the ring. “I’m supposed to be the one who proposes,” I grumble while slipping his ring onto his finger. “I hate ...
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“The rest of our lives, huh, baby?” He nods, lips curling into the most gorgeous smile. “The rest of our lives, baby.” “I wouldn’t have it with anyone but you.” My mouth reaches for his and I kiss him slower this time, taking my fill of him. I love this man with everything I have and don’t have. I love him with my sane and insane parts. He’s my lotus flower. My Prince Charming. The love of my life. Mine.
