Always

you've always wanted to kiss her,

You're not necessarily proud of what that said about you, and your friends still give you shit about having a tree kink or something, but you didn't care then and you sure as hell don't now.

From the moment you saw her dressed as a Christmas tree at a party in college, you had known she was the one. Strobe lights and blaring music, hook ups and drunken deep and meaningfuls, crowds of friends or strangers, and a girl. Arboreally silent, completely still, kneeling in the corner surrounded by boxes of presents pretending to be a goddamn tree.

The laugh that had near barked out of your chest startled you as much as it had your friends, and your feet were moving before you knew what you were doing or they even had time to ask you about it.

“I don't recognise this type of tree,” you'd pondered aloud, kneeling down to inspect some of the presents. “Wonder what its name is.”

“Kazuha,” she'd mumbled, somewhat muffled by the fact she refused to move her lips, as committed to her custome some comedy bit as she was.

“Leaf,” you'd translated, “that tracks.”

Her face had twitched in surprise and some delight, the most emotion you'd seen out of the stoic holiday shrub thus far. Her eyes sparkled, and you'd been mostly sure it wasn't just the reflected fairy lights she was wrapped in.

You don't remember how long it took, but Kazuha had eventually gotten a cramp in her leg from not moving for so long and you'd had to help her up from not toppling over like a small, ornamented felled Japanese girl/tree. Her arm-branches held on to your own and you'd helped her up, certain you never wanted to let go of this goofy, ridiculous woman.

You'd gone home together that night, the start of several years of mockery by both your sets of friends, and of a relationship that filled and defined your soul from that moment on.

you always want to kiss her,

To be honest, it was her fault she got ice cream on her nose in the first place; She jerked her arm back from the brand new puppy and poked herself in the face with the remnants of her Ben and jerrys. Now she's rolling around on the floor of your joint place, surrounded by moving boxes, giggling and squealing for you to help while the fluffball on her chest tries to lick the ice cream off her face.

Your cheeks hurt, and you're not sure if the pain in your chest is from laughing so hard or the fact your heart is going to burst in a gory act of pure, unfettered love.

Her features are scrunched up in a smile that consumes her whole face and turns her eyes into brilliant little crescents. Eyes that blow wide open in shock and betrayal when you kneel down to help, and instead join the furred attack by peppering her face and neck with kisses.

You're tickling her stomach now, there's ice cream flying and she swears she's going to pee herself on your brand new apartment floor, but you don't care. You'll ruin a thousand carpets just to see her smile, to hear laugh and kiss her soft lips.

The yips die down as your puppy victoriously consumes the abandoned ice cream cone beside the coffee table, surely staining the floor, and you lift Kazuha up into your arms. Kisses meant to tease turn into kisses meant to tease, and her legs wrap around your waist as you stumble over half unpacked lives toward where you think the bedroom is.

Your mind is a haze filled mess of Kazuha’s scent and taste and you don't make it to any room when you drop her down on the dining table, her arms still around your neck and you're kissing her neck, trying to clear a space behind her when several tubs of miscellaneous items you'd labelled as ‘boring work stuff’ go flying.

One small, red velvet box tumbles out of your laptop bag and hits the floor with a surprisingly loud thud for such a fragile little thing. Kazuha looks down at the box and then back up at you, cheeks flushed and heart full in her deep brown eyes. You groan as she starts kissing you again, fervently and eagerly, unspoken affirmation of an unasked question.

you'll always want to kiss her,

When she can't work out the TV remote even though you've shown her innumerably before.

When you fight over who had agreed to get what groceries on the way home.

When you're sitting cross legged on the floor folding laundry together.

When she's smiling in photos or pretending she's not lost in some foreign country on vacation.

When you're brushing your teeth side by side for the several thousandth time.

When she tucks her hair behind her ear whenever she’s nervous about something.

When you hold her on the couch watching some trash movie.

When she intertwines your fingers on a walk in the park.

When she gets the whole apartment building evacuated trying to cook dinner on your birthday.

When she steps on some Lego and accidentally teaches your son his first curse word.

When she cries at his wedding, sobbing that he wasn't her baby boy anymore.

When she's complaining about her back, bending over to pick up the grandkids.

When you tuck her into bed at night and the little wrinkles around her eyes crease as she smiles and snuggles contentedly against your chest.

There are no big moments or small moments in love and lives like yours, just moments together. Every moment, every piece holds the same undefinable, undeniable weight of significance. In every moment in every time, there are no grand ones that matter more or trivial ones that matter less. Because it's her and you just really want to kiss her. One time, a million times.

Always.