I Think I Might Love You

I lay my head on my boyfriend’s chest, tired from the long day at a charity beyblade tournament with my team, Coup de’ Taut, we only gave a demo, but I always get tired in front of the crowds and trust me its not the fans who bother me, it’s the goddamn press. I gaze up at my boyfriend, taking in his red hair, and meet his eyes, a smile playing across his lips. He absentmindedly strokes my hair, then lowers his lips onto mine in a gentle, loving kiss, “sleep,” he whispers, his face mere inches from mine. He is being unusually gentle and loving with no lust behind his kiss. I lean my head forward and kiss him back, unable to resist savoring these moments when his kindness truly shows. When I pull away I see a slight smirk play on his lips, but his face suddenly becomes serious, “you really sleep, you have to sign autographs and later this week, you have a day to spend with the winning team, and that visit to the hospital this charity is for,“ he says. I lay my head back on his chest, inhaling his familiar scent as I drift off to sleep, remembering how that creep Boris actually did one thing right.