and you helplessly look at him, your eyes following every curve of his face;
the curls of his dark hair, wetly plastered on his forehead, his flush high on his cheeks, his grin and his warm, warm eyes, looking down on you as if you were the most precious thing he had ever seen and wouldn't dare look away as if every second he lived shouldn't be wasted not staring at you
and so, chest undeniably tightening under the force of his smile and the way his glasses are messily porched on his nose, you think to yourself, god, good god, this man. i love this man so much i could die.