Tell me how to love you

The dim lighting of the café bathed everything in a soft, amber glow. The clatter of plates, the faint murmur of voices, the sound of the espresso machine working in the background—it all felt distant, like it was happening somewhere far off. Mark sat there, his fingers nervously gripping the edge of his coffee cup. The ceramic felt cool under his fingertips, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions inside him. His chest was tight, his heart pounding, and the words he had been rehearsing for what felt like hours remained lodged in his throat.

He glanced at Emma, sitting across from him, her presence like a calming force in the chaos of his mind. She was looking at him intently, her eyes soft but focused, as if waiting for him to say something. Mark had been holding on to this moment for , a moment where he could finally, finally say what had been weighing on him for so long. But now, with her sitting in front of him, with the weight of everything between them, it felt impossible to find the right words.

Just say it, he thought, feeling the pressure mount with every passing second. Tell her how you feel. Tell her what's been inside you all this time.

His pulse quickened at the thought, the words still caught somewhere deep inside him, tangled with self-doubt. He took a shallow breath, feeling the air in his lungs become too thick, too heavy. What if she doesn't feel the same? What if she thinks I'm too much? What if I ruin everything?

The questions swirled around him, turning everything he wanted to say into a jumble of indecipherable thoughts. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. All he could do was sit there, paralyzed by fear.

Emma, sensing the tension, broke the silence. Her voice was quiet but steady, like a soft current breaking through the stillness. "Mark, are You alright?" Her words were gentle, unhurried, like she was offering him an escape from the weight he was carrying. "I don't expect you to have it all figured out. I just want you to be honest with me. To be real."

The warmth of her voice seemed to settle over him like a blanket, comforting and inviting. But still, he hesitated. He could hear the honesty in her words, could feel the trust she was placing in him. But how could he be honest when his heart was so tangled in insecurities? How could he show her the truth when he was scared that his truth wasn't enough?

He swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I... I don't know how to do this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the rawness of the words before they even left his lips. They felt like something he had been holding back for so long, something that, now that it was out in the open, seemed so simple but so difficult to say. "I don't know how to be... what you want me to be."

His fingers tightened around the cup, his knuckles turning white. He felt like he was unraveling, and it scared him. He didn't want to seem weak in front of her. He didn't want to be vulnerable, to show her the parts of himself that were still uncertain, still unsure. But there it was, slipping out of him like a confession he hadn't even meant to make.

"I've always been afraid," he continued, his voice faltering slightly. "Afraid of messing up, of saying the wrong thing, of... of pushing you away." The words felt foreign to him, like they had never been spoken aloud before. His chest tightened with every syllable, and his heart thudded painfully in his ears. He shifted in his seat, unable to look at her, afraid of what he might see in her eyes. What if she thinks I'm too much?

Emma's gaze never wavered. She didn't look away, didn't pull back. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her hand gently resting on the table between them. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a lifeline, like she was giving him permission to keep going, to keep being honest.

Her voice, when she spoke again, was soft but steady. "Mark," she said, her eyes warm and understanding. "You're enough. You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to have it all figured out. I'm not asking for that. I'm asking for you to be honest with me. That's all I need."

The weight of her words settled over him slowly, like a breath of fresh air in a room that had felt suffocating. It was almost too much to take in, too much to believe. For a moment, Mark closed his eyes, letting the warmth of her words wash over him, trying to make sense of the storm inside him that had suddenly quieted, just a little.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. There was no judgment in her gaze, no impatience. Just calm, unwavering acceptance. And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, Mark felt like he could finally exhale. Maybe I can do this, he thought. Maybe I can be honest.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart, trying to find the courage he needed. The words were still heavy on his tongue, but they felt less like a weight now. He opened his mouth, the words finally coming, slow and uncertain, but true.

"I think... I think I love you," he said, his voice low and raw, trembling with vulnerability. The words felt like a release, like a confession he hadn't known he needed to make, but now that it was out, it felt like the truest thing he'd ever said.

The room seemed to fall away, the sounds around them fading into the background as Mark waited for her response. His heart was pounding in his chest, his palms clammy, but there was a strange sense of relief in his chest now that he had said it. The truth had been spoken, even if it had been difficult. And as he looked at Emma, his gaze searching her face, he knew that it was out of his hands now. He had said it. And whatever came next, he was ready to face it.

Emma's eyes softened, her lips curving into a gentle, knowing smile. She reached across the table, her hand covering his with a warmth that melted the last of his doubts. "I love you, too, Mark," she whispered, her voice steady and filled with sincerity. "I've loved you for a while now. I'm just glad you finally said it."

The words hung in the air, and in that moment, time seemed to slow. Everything felt suspended, as if the world outside of this moment didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the quiet truth between them. They were here, together, sharing something real. Something that didn't need to be perfect, didn't need to be figured out. It just needed to be.

Mark let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and he finally, finally allowed himself to smile. The weight that had pressed so heavily on him was gone, and in its place was something lighter—something freer. They didn't need to have all the answers. They just needed to be here, in this moment, together.

And that was enough.

***

A/N: finally, finally my boy said it.

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