My breath catches in my throat as you open the doors to the balcony, peering down at me with curious eyes.

Your hair is brushed soft, let out from its usual braid and swept to the side. The moonlight illuminates your face, reflecting like you’re made of the loveliest marble. Your shirt looks soft, a little worn, with a small hole in the shoulder and slipping down the slightest bit.

Our eyes meet, and you smile gently. My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest.

“Hi,” you greet me, and there’s something fond in the way you say it. I’m pretty sure I woke you, but it doesn’t seem like you mind. Maybe you’re even happy to see me, if I’m bold enough to suggest so.
I don’t realize I’m staring for a moment. I think I stopped breathing when I saw you. But thankfully, I’m able to at least work my tongue, and I clear my throat before I speak. “Hey.”

Maybe I looked funny when I spoke, or maybe you just realized I had a stick in my hair from climbing through the trees to reach your balcony. But you laugh, and I feel the rest of my thoughts fizzle out in favor of my brain activating whatever part of it is dedicated to processing all the love I have for you.

Climbing stone walls is hard, and it’s even harder with a heavy bag slung around your shoulders. But I find that as you help me climb over and hold my hands so softly in your own, giggling at me losing my balance, I would climb a thousand of those dumb things just to see you in all your heart-stopping beauty.