"Lucrezia?" I mumble her name as I feel her slide out of the large sleeping bag we made by zipping two together. She laughs. It's mellifluous, even when it's barely dawn. "Yeah, Relena? I was just going to start on the coffee." It's things like that which make me entirely happy to be with her. Noin, my dear sweet wonderful Noin, hates coffee. Yet, she learned how to make it for me. For some reason, I can't make a good pot of coffee. She could make coffee with a cup of lemon juice and a copy of Whistler's Mother, I think. And, it would still taste like how coffee should taste. Then again, perhaps it makes it better that she made it? I see her shiver in the cold morning air, the tips of her socks darkened by the dew on the grass. The fire that we meticulously made last night, if throwing pine needles and cones at one another and having them happen to fall in the blaze can be called that, is down to smoldering coals. Noin grabs for some pine needles, a small stick... several items that I don't normally see... and somehow manages to bring the fire up to a decent level in only a few moments. I don't know how she does it. She just... does. Every little thing she does amazes me. I want to be a part of it forever. I realize that now. I want to be there for her in four months, when she has a cold, to make chicken soup. I want to be there in two years when some relative dies and she wants a shoulder to cry on. I want to be there in ten years when life is beginning to feel like it's too much. I want to be there forever when she's there. Somehow it all happened... somehow, I fell in love. I use that word so easily with her. Love. Love.... If the phrasing of love comes so easily, outside and within, does that mean it's true? Because I can say "Lucrezia, I love you," does that mean that if she feels the same, we could have forever... always? And, if I stood up right now and walked over to her and kissed her, what would she say? That last question intrigues me. So, I slide from the sleeping bag and stumble over rocks and damp grass over to her. She glances at me and smiles, and I kiss her lightly. She returns it, a stirring spoon in one hand, then pulls back and tucks a bit of hair behind my ear. "Mmm... Love you too, Relena." Good. She knows. She knows that I love her. That must mean it's true. And, she loves me too. I can't say for certain that I know it's true, but it feels right. And, anything that feels this right simply must be! Or, why are we bothering to fool ourselves? Someday, I'm going to sit back and review my life. I'll think of how my family went to ruins, how my adopted father told me of my real life and then died, how I fell in curiousty with a boy named Heero Yuy, how I was Queen of the World, and I won't regret much about it. But, all throughout it, I want to think of her. I want to memorize the way she holds her lips when she smiles. I want to know exactly which pieces of hair fall on her face and how often she'll allow me to stroke them back just so I can giggle like a schoolgirl because I got to touch *her*. I want to be obsessed with her because I know her so well, not because I hardly know her at all. I'm so lucky to have found love. I thought I never would. I thought that perhaps I wasn't capable of loving. And then she taught me not to think so much. My coffee is ready now. She's got herself a cup of tea. I've got myself a wonderful person who can make me enjoy doing things that I never thought I would do. Perhaps if I can get her to stick around, I'll try a lot of new things. This is, in itself, a new thing. I look up to see her gazing at me shyly over the brim of her mug. I smile at her. "Thanks for the coffee. It's really good, as always." She only nods and blows lightly at her tea, trying to cool it down. I think I like new things.
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