a/n: inspired by the movie "Flipped." i also mainly incorporated about most of my favourite tropes ever, so yeah, that's how it ended up being nearly 6k words, lol.

They don't meet on coincidental circumstances, but he first meets her on a tree, up at the top, staring out at the view.

"Hey."

She whips her head around. "Oh, hey."

"So, love, what're you doing up here?" he asks, scooting a little bit on the branch, his foot stuck between where a branch and trunk meet.

"Just the view," she whispers, nodding toward the horizon. "Looks pretty cool from up here, especially in the morning for sunrise, or the evenings for sunset. A good way to clear my head from...uh, yeah, just a good way to clear my head."

Her hesitance on that bit catches his attention, but there's some underlying sadness beneath her eyes. Killian licks his lips quickly and nods, looking over out over the horizon. It's like how Liam takes him sailing and they get to see the starry nights or the red and orange rays in the skies during sunset. "Aye, a spectacular view," he agrees.

"What're you doing up here, anyways?" she asks, swinging one of her legs back and forth.

"Curiosity of why you're up here," he answers with a casual shrug, smiling softly. "But now that you've mentioned it, I may come up here for the view again, as long as you don't kick my arse back down."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Right. But you're welcome to climb up here, it's not like I own the tree."

He grins, climbing just a little higher to hitch his leg up onto a branch so he doesn't have to do the entire half-sitting and half-standing thing. "So, you just moved here, aye?" He's noticed, it's not often people move into Storybrooke.

Any hint of a smile or a laugh is gone, her face falling a little as she nods. "Yeah."

It's only a guess on his part, given he's only sixteen and one of the popular (apparently also the hottest guy) in school. "I'm Killian - Killian Jones," he introduces and sticks a hand out to shake, keeping the other hand firmly against the tree to keep his balance.

She takes up his offer at a handshake. "Emma Swan."

There's this look in her green eyes, something she's trying to hide from him, and he wonders what's got her walls up so high, why she's so guarded. But any topic on her past or where she comes from is a subject he doesn't approach, nor does he even hint towards the idea. Emma doesn't seem very fond of it whatsoever, thus he's going to keep his curiosity to himself instead of wondering aloud. Not like he has to wait very long before he knows what goes on deep down inside of her - news spreads quickly through school.

"Wait, she's an orphan?" It sounds like he's whispering and shouting simultaneously, well, loudly whispering should do. "Bloody hell, that explains quite a bit."

"You already know her?" Robin asks.

"Aye, we're...friends. Neighbours. Met and hung out with her during the summer," he explains briefly, scratching behind his ear. She's exactly like him, like his family, which only consists of him and Liam anyways. "She's nice, why the rumours?"

"You know, that's exactly how it goes when it comes to anyone new in town. Find ways to bring the new one down," Robin says, crossing his arms. "You've never cared before, though."

"I care because she's a friend - friends don't gossip like school girls, Locksley," he growls back, insistent of his good form. "Mills is rubbing off on you."

"Hey, mate, I think I'm rubbing off on her."

"I wager she's the one who started the rumours."

"Uh - okay, perhaps, but I'll ask her during lunch today for clarification," Robin promises, slinging his bag over a shoulder. "Time for bloody math as homeroom," he grumbles. "See you later."

"Good luck, mate," Killian chuckles, standing up and brushing off his behind, grabbing his bag from off the floor.

.~.

He catches her in his sight, sitting in a seat near the left side of the classroom, closer to the door, but near the back. She doesn't seem exactly happy today, not like the times he's seen her smile before up on that tree during their afternoons or early mornings when they've snuck out of their houses, just across from each other, to go climb up the tree. And there's definitely no pain in her eyes...what's left is just something empty, a replacement like none other than a void.

Hesitating only takes a moment before he plops down in the seat in front of her, dropping his bag black onto the floor and twisting in the seat. "Hey, Swan." He grins, just happy to see her being in one of his core classes. "How's day one?"

"Not too bad, so far," she mumbles, "keywords so far."

"Come on, lass, attending school with that attitude of course makes it like so. Lighten up, ignore the gossiping girls, and you'll do just fine."

"They all say you're that popular, good looking guy."

He shrugs. "Nothing I haven't been claimed before - I've gotten used to their name calling. But, what do you say, aren't I rather dashing?"

Emma scoffs, a smile curling at her lips. There she is, he thinks, smiling himself.

"Should I even bother stroking your ego?"

"Plenty of options."

"I'll just imagine you didn't insinuate anything there."

He raises an eyebrow before turning back to face the front, smirk blown right over his face, just as the teacher walks in. "Whatever floats your boat, Swan," he utters quietly.

.~.

Nothing changes between, not their dynamic, not their friendship, nothing. The knowledge that she's an orphan doesn't change the way he thinks about her, and considering rumours and gossip have died down within the last two weeks, she's not really the new girl in school anymore. He's convinced himself that in the last four months, everything's been a platonic friendship.

Except, it's not. When he sees her talking to Graham, there's this feeling that doesn't sit well in the pit of his stomach. Jealousy is not something that bodes well with Killian Jones. Besides, he is not jealous, of course he's not. They're friends.

Just friends.

(Fucking lie.)

.~.

"So...you and Graham."

"Graham and I? There is no us, Killian."

He crosses his arms, not exactly believing her. "Really?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous," she teases.

"Most certainly not," he denies smoothly, shaking his head.

Still a lie, his brain sings.

.~.

Halfway through the year, he begins to actually realize he does like her, despite never crossing the line of being friends. She fits in well with his group of friends and a few people she finds, he doesn't want to ruin anything between them.

But, apparently even as social as she can be during or in between classes, he still sees her up on that tree so often. After school, before school, after dinner. It's also been their little meeting place, the spot where they both sit, with the breeze through their hair, and the sunlight peeking in between leaves. Where they can see over the water and into the horizon without anyone bothering them.

Liam keeps telling him to go for it, that he may as well considering they've only got a little over a year before college. But god, Killian is just too frightened to ruin their relationship with getting romantically involved.

But he really, really, screws things up the day the tree is getting cut down (to be replaced with a house on the land) which Emma loves so much, when he doesn't climb up to support her despite being her best friend and neighbour and understanding exactly what that tree means between them. He can't afford to miss school over a tree, so against better judgment, he doesn't, leaving Emma alone.

The tree is gone by the end of the day.

The flip in their friendship is more painful than ever. She looks like she only puts half her effort into classes, like she's lost the energy in herself to fight or play. She won't speak to him at all, and this is biting him in the arse, and he knows he deserves it. She's been abandoned so many times, yet the one time she probably didn't feel abandoned, he left her to her own devices. It hurts to see the tree stump when he passes by. It hurts to see that she never talks to him anymore. It hurts to see that her face is empty and full of more melancholy than anything. Killian realizes he's been a sodding prat that she doesn't ever want to talk to again.

He doesn't blame her.

An idea sparks in his head on a Friday afternoon (after an entire week of frustration), sort of paying attention to class while scribbling down his idea to make sure he doesn't forget. He's just glad when the teacher calls on him to answer, he manages to answer correctly. Partial attentive listening is helpful at a time like this.

.~.

It's a Saturday morning when he knocks on their door, the Nolan's. Killian likes them, sure he does, but the man is the Sheriff and the woman is the teacher that taught him in elementary, so there's a little history between them.

"Killian."

"Good morning, Mr. Nolan, sir...I - uh..." He scratches behind his ear, nervous to present his idea. "I know I hurt your daughter's feelings when I didn't stand up with her for the sake of that tree she really loved. And I haven't gotten the chance to apologize since she's quite adept at hiding from me - and, make no mistake, I don't blame her." He sighs, taking a deep breath in. "I want to do something to make it up for her. I want to plant a tree, on your front lawn, just for her."

"Trees take a long time to grow," the man says, crossing his arms over his chest. That isn't an approval, not permission.

Killian swallows the lump in his throat away and nods, sheepishly smiling. "I'm aware," he responds. "But I...I think I really like her, and she's a good friend and neighbour, and I really understand what that tree meant. I want her to get this sentiment, if you would so graciously allow it, sir." God, he feels like a bumbling loser. "I was a bloody git, that day. I know."

"And that's all the reason? You want to date her?"

"No!" Killian exclaims quickly (probably a little pathetic, too), shaking his head. "Her feelings are important to me, regardless of our relationship status. I want to see her smile again, I miss her as a friend." After a moment of silence, he has one more thing to say. "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."

Sheriff Nolan is a tad bit intimidating, especially when it comes to his family. "Alright, you can do it. But, you hurt her again, I'll make your own brother throw you into a cell."

"Thank you." He grins (the man did just give him blessings to date), nodding at his warning, too. "I'll be more cautious this time. I promise." And he means to keep his promise, because if her silence hasn't been hell enough, he'd rather not know what actual hell is.

As he steps off the porch, he sighs in relief and runs across the street, back up to his room, plopping down on his bed with a smile. He just hopes this will work out.

.~.

By Sunday afternoon, he has a tree Liam helped him buy, while he's digging a hole in the front yard at a specific spot, hoping it will grow well with proper care.

He catches her by the window, staring at him with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, and he just smiles at her, hoping she'll come out so they can finally put this hardship past them. He misses her a lot. He misses getting to sling his shoulder around her shoulders like they're having fun, or sitting with her during lunch. It's the small things in his day with her that brightens his life up, and without her, all he knows is that it feels a bit dull.

She's already somehow incorporated herself into his daily life, and he can't cage her out, no matter how hard he tries. Not that he is trying, considering he wants more than friendship.

"You're planting a tree."

Killian sets the tree into the pit he's dug and turns to face her. "Aye." He shrugs and turns back to look at the thin trunk. "I thought it could...be something new. It can't replace the other one, but…" With a hopeless sigh, he starts kicking dirt in to fill in the vacant space. "I'm sorry, Swan, for leaving you alone when you needed me. I was a bad friend, probably still am, but, would you like to help?"

There's this hope in him that she'll come over and help him pack the soil back up and then water it, and watch it grow for the next few years.

God, he's so happy when he sees her smile and nod, that being an answer enough.

Their hands are dirty and so are their jeans, but with the easy flowing conversation going on, he knows things are moving back to the way they are.

"It'll take a long time to grow as large as the previous one, but it's worth a shot."

"Killian?"

He turns his attention to her. "Aye?"

"Thanks."

Killian grins. "You're welcome, Swan."

That's when he realizes he's sitting awfully close to her, their faces only a few inches apart. He wants to kiss her, god does he want to, but he's promised her father not to break her heart, nor does he want to hurt what they've just reconciled. But, he's a stupid lad, a stupid lad may dream and be bold, so he leans in, and he hesitates in front of her lips, hoping she feels the same, before he finally kisses her, twisting his body to face hers better. His dirty hand tangles in her hair then, and it's a little awkward to be kissing out on her front lawn, but he's not regretting it.

He doesn't regret it when someone clears their throat, when they back apart and turn their heads toward the front porch where Mr. Nolan is standing, an unamused look on his face.

"It's time for dinner, Emma."

Pulling out his phone, he realizes it's already six.

"He's like that," she whispers.

"I should get going, Liam's probably expecting me."

"You live right across the street, it's not like you're gonna be late." She chuckles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you at school?"

"Absolutely," is the one word he can utter out, too taken away by this girl he's fallen head over heels for. "Have a nice dinner, love."

.~.

Liam knows everything. He saw exactly what's transpired between them on his one day off from work. He's seen them make up, kiss, sit there like embarrassed fools in front of her father. But, despite all the teasing throughout dinner and the following morning, it's definitely worth it when he gets to sidle up beside Emma and get to smile and talk like nothing's wrong anymore. And there's nothing wrong at all, not the slightest bit of a problem left.

During lunch, he pulls her outside to the back of the school field, hiding behind the bleachers and kissing her without worry but with fervor. Killian can feel the curve of her grin against his lips, and boy, he knows he's already half way into loving her. There's no simple way to explain how attracted he is to her, no matter where she is or how she looks, no matter of what time it is of the day. Aye, they're young and dumb (and probably in love), but he just can't imagine anyone else to cherish. And he's sixteen, turning seventeen in 3 months.

And between classes, if he gets to see her, he'll slide his fingers between hers and smile sweetly, dropping her off at class before he moves onto his a couple rooms down the hall or down the stairs to somewhere else.

And at the end of the day, he'll find her and kiss her forehead before tangling their fingers together again to walk home with a simple, quiet conversation (maybe some raucous laughter). There's something about the simple gesture of just holding hands that gets him. Like an assurance of his presence; that he wants to be with her, no matter what looks they get or what others say.

News travel fast that the most popular boy in school is dating the orphan (who's technically with her biological family now), but he doesn't care.

Her birthday nears closer with every passing day, and he and Liam takes her out sailing, the wind in their hair and the sun on their skin, even the salty sea breeze with every breath they take. It's not the ideal sailing season, but weather permits them well on a cool autumn day.

It goes on for months.

Between stolen make-out sessions in his bedroom while they're supposed to be studying, to the movies nights where she falls asleep with her head on his shoulder during spring break, his affections grow further and further for Emma.

On his birthday, she buys him that book all about ships and pirates and treasures, and he nearly drops it, surprised she found a copy of it just for him. And just because he can and because she wants, he reads some to her on the late sleepovers (against Mr. Nolan's chagrin, mostly, and Mrs. Nolan's giddiness) with her head tucked against his shoulder, eyes closed, and breathing slow and deep.

The first time he says I love you, is when they've finished exams and they've surely passed them all without much struggle. The amount of study sessions pay off in the end, in spite of the amount of times they've gotten distracted. "Should we break the news to your parents, love? Surely they'd want to be happy for you moving on another year."

"Yeah, yeah let's go do that. Together. And then we can talk to Liam later after he's back from work?"

"Aye." He sighs in contentment, brushing his lips over hers briefly. He doesn't want to think about the future yet, about college and moving away, of them ever splitting up. Time is passing by so quickly. "Sounds like a plan."

"Oh, and Killian?"

"Hmm?"

She smiles and leans forward, her lips brushing his ear. "I love you, too."

The brightest smile appears on his face, watching her in pure amazement as she runs off shouting something about race you there! while he's still awestruck she's admitted three simple words. With the amount of times in instability and lack of love in her early years, he'd almost been sure she wasn't going to say it back. His Swan has proved him wrong once again.

His Swan.

.~.

Things aren't smooth sailing by the time they graduate.

She's staying in Storybrooke to work under her dad as the Deputy, and he's moving out to study some marine biology (and a part-time job). Neither of them are keen on their plans here, but he's got an apartment rented out which Emma's helped him moved in to already. He wants to stay, with her, but that's not a possibility. At least it's just a little over a two hour drive to spend a weekend or holiday with her, though. Not an entire day's flight or anything.

Besides, with technology now, he can call and text and Skype all he bloody wants when he gets the chance.

"Three years, love," he murmurs, dropping his forehead against hers. "Wait for me?"

As small as her smile is, her answer makes up for it. "Always."

"And take care of our tree."

She laughs, her laughter a little sad but mostly in amusement, which makes his heart swell and soar.

"Wouldn't forget that for the world, Killian."

.~.

It's hard, for these three years.

He tries quite his hardest to keep in contact, but there's a lot of work and effort to put into his grades and academics just in general, so things get too heated sometimes. The extent there would be a text shot over and then back to burning his brains.

(And work. His temporary job for three years' time.)

The one thing that helps him is the book Emma bought him nearly three years ago, keeping him company and reminding him how much he loves her, despite the distance between them at the moment. Surely a challenge for them, given that they're so in love and usually inseparable.

It's late one Saturday while he's reading the novel again when there's insistent knocking at the door. His hair's a mess, he's only in his briefs, and he's sleep deprived. Who the hell is knocking -

"Emma?"

"I hope you don't open the door like that to everyone," she chuckles, stepping inside and wrapping her arms around him. "Though, not wanting to sugar coat it, you look horrendous."

He sighs and drops his arms around her, burying his face in her heap of blonde curls, his nose making contact with her neck. "Blunt and honest...and I assure you, I don't tend to open the door like this to everyone who knocks." Killian kicks the door closed and sighs again, softly, when he feels her lips on his shoulder. "Though, a call or text might've been nice."

"Wanted to surprise you." She shrugs and her hands frames his face, and he leans into her touch just as he always does, craving for more contact. "You need sleep, you know."

"Very aware."

"Brush your teeth and get to bed, I'll be right there."

He rolls his eyes at her motherly tone, pressing his lips to her forehead before going to do as he says. "Yes, my love," he mumble, trudging off to the washroom.

When he returns, she's changed, and she's flipping through the book he'd left on the bed earlier when he needed to answer the door.

"You opted for late night reading instead of sleep?"

He shrugs and slips beneath the covers, running a hand through his hair. "Cliché as it sounds, Swan, it reminds me of you. A reminder of the woman I love before sleep is always a delight, isn't it?"

Emma sets the book aside and tugs at the charms hanging around his neck for a lazy kiss as her answer. "I love you, I really do, but you need rest."

"Will you stay?" he asks quietly, his eyelids beginning to give out on him.

"Yeah, yeah I'll stay."

There's always something about having such a good sleep, that when he wakes up, he has to bask in the moment and the feeling of some sunlight on his skin. It's only extra better when there's the woman he loves sleeping next to him, curled up against his side, her breathing deep and slow, her face so peaceful.

He's noticed through the years how there is not much of that sadness lingering in her eyes anymore, how ever since she'd been officially adopted, there's more happiness and pure joy instead. (Sometimes, he likes to think and dream that he's a part of her everyday smiles, and he knows he is, but he never wants to admit that to his 'stupidly large ego' according to Emma.)

She's a little cold, her feet pressing against his bare legs, her hands far lower than room temperature.

He's the one that's essentially naked, why is she so cold?

Releasing a yawn, he presses a hand to her forehead, finding out that this part of her body is awfully hot. And the only plausible reason given that she's between hot and cold means that she's sick. Oh Emma, he thinks, rubbing his own forehead.

"Swan, love," he whispers, shaking her gently.

It takes her awhile to actually peel her eyes open and groan, her face contorting into a grimace. "Damn," she huffs out, sniffing once. "Am I sick?"

He laughs. "I believe you are, Emma."

"Pongo ran off the other day in the rain and I had to go find him. I think that is finally catching up to me, despite my usual solid immune system." She sighs, rubbing her eyes and leaving her hands on her face. "I should go before this gets any worse."

"No," he quickly responds, pulling her against him. "Not risking that at all, love. You're staying here until you're better, instead of driving for over two hours from Boston to Storybrooke half-sick. If you'd gotten into a bloody accident, I don't think I'd be the one surviving that."

"You have to study and finish up final projects."

"Which can be put on hold because my significant other is far more important than the mere responsibility of completing my other tasks. I've already gotten most of my notes down anyways, since I reviewed about every single day." He presses a kiss to the crown of her head before slipping out of bed, grabbing himself a random black v-neck t-shirt and some sweats to throw on. "Plus, there's plenty of time in between since you will be taking naps."

Emma grumbles something he doesn't hear properly. "Can I call my dad then, to tell him?"

"Aye, go ahead. I'll make breakfast."

"Love you," she mumbles, her hand searching for her cell on the night stand.

With a grin, he nods, pulling the door open. "And I you," he says back, heading down the hall into the kitchen.

.~.

After the three years of college and graduating with a close to 4.0 GPA, he packs his bags just when his lease pops up, not renewing it and driving back down to Storybrooke, the requirement to surprise Emma on his mind.

Her car (you can't miss it) isn't in the driveway of her parents' house, and Liam is out (at work, most likely), so he unpacks back up to his old room and then goes on a search for Emma, assuming she's either at Granny's or the station. His money is on the station.

And she is at the station, face buried beyond two stacks of papers, one at each side on her desk, while she's twirling a pen around absentmindedly. Emma seems quite focused there and he smiles, knowing she's one of the most hardworking, focused women he knows. For good measures, he knocks and her head snaps up, and dear god, the smile on her face is like a gift from the heavens, lighting up the entire room just when she sees him.

"Surprise."

"You're back." She pushes her chair back and slides her arms around his neck, having to get on her tip-toes to reach his height. He always has to chuckle (their height difference is simply perfect, not that he actually cares that much). "You could've called."

"Where's the element of surprise in that, love?" he asks, pulling her closely against him and breathing in the smell of grilled cheese, hot cocoa, and her shampoo. (He'll never get over how wonderful she smells.)

"Let's not do long distance again. That sucked," she grumbles, pulling back away from him for a kiss.

He often wonders where he would be or who he would be without Emma in his life. "Aye, I agree."

At least he's back.

He's back, unlike many others who's left her before. Killian Jones is not making that mistake again.

.~.

They're just sitting on her front lawn under their tree in the shade, the one that's been growing for nearly six years now, healthy and supposedly happy if you could personify it.

Emma sighs, propping her arms behind her head. "I miss the old tree."

"As do I," he mumbles, shifting his position a little bit. "I suppose all we can do now is hope this one will turn out just as grand as the old one."

"My mom's always talking about hope." Emma almost sounds annoyed by the thought, but there's a smile gracing her lips as always in these moments. Her eyes are following the clouds sifting through the blue skies of summer. "When I was younger, I thought hope was...hopeless. No pun intended. That was until my real parents came along, and you and your brother."

He still remembers the first day they met up on the tree, the memory still burned into his brain, so vivid and nostalgic. Instead of saying anything, he just scoots over a little more and she drops her arms down, leaning her head on his shoulder, her hand finding his and interlacing their fingers together. He gives her a short, tight squeeze to indicate she can keep speaking her mind; that he'll listen to her rant and vent or just simply elaborate on her thoughts.

"I'm not good at the entire words thing, as usual." She chuckles, a little nervously. "But, uhm...I guess I just have to say thanks. For everything."

To be honest, he wants to thank her. Or thank her parents who thought it'd been a good idea to move in the sort of shy, lost teenage girl across the street. He wants to thank everything and everyone for letting her be a part of his life, or even just him being a part of hers. Killian is a determined man to make her happy. As a boy, he'd thought maybe it was just going to be one of those high school relationships which ended by the end of that portion of his life. He'd refused to think about his future.

Until the long distance, the late night calls, or early text messages. He knew there was hope there, lucky as it may have been or not.

But, he doesn't regret the troubles or the happiness they've been through together. That's a good thing. A wonderful thing.

"Marry me."

The weight of her head on his shoulder is gone immediately, and he swallows. Trying this himself may be a bit absurd at the moment, but if this is what love is, he doesn't want to experience it as simply boyfriend and girlfriend. He doesn't want to have to live across the street from each other and not get to sleep in the same bed every night and every morning.

He wants everything. He wants to be that bloody selfish man he is deep down, the one who just wants love and hope and Emma Swan. Perhaps it's still too early to ask her - that even after six years of taking slow steps along the way - but he'll try it. He'll risk it.

(It's maybe a ludicrous idea of his.)

"I want this. I want us, Emma. I know I've just jumped this request on you, but I would be elated if you'd become my wife."

"Do you even have a ring?"

Opening his mouth, he closes it in thought. "Bloody hell, fair point. I'll be right back!" he exclaims, scrambling to get up and head toward his place.

He finds the ring, sitting in his old drawer still, the one his mother had. He's not even prepared to properly propose, but he's just going to go for it (the idea's been on his mind, anyways). Besides, her answer isn't really a form of rejection. Killian's quick, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him and rushing down the wooden stairs and back out the front door toward Emma who looks like she's been laughing.

Without any more time to waste by the time he's under the tree and next to her again, he dips down onto one knee and lifts his hand up with a ring. Simple silver band with an emerald in the middle. "Marry me now that I've got a ring?" he asks breathlessly, that bit of a rush still aching his lungs.

"I think you know the answer."

He raises an eyebrow. "So...yes?"

All he needs is her smile to know, his slightly shaking hand slipping the ring onto her finger and pushing her down onto the grass, his lips finding hers in an easy manner, feeling nothing but the lightness and happiness he's engulfed in all thanks to his love. "God, I love you too much, darling," he whispers against her lips, his nose just bumping hers a little bit.

"Is that a complaint, Mr. Jones?"

"Definitely not."

.~.

There is a massive dinner on Mrs. Nolan's account, both Liam and Killian invited in celebration of Killian and Emma's engagement.

(Dav - Mr. Nolan - is shooting him daggers from his eyes, it's a little scary and a tad intimidating in all the other possible ways.)

After being ushered out to the front door while Liam helps Emma's parents - who will be his in laws soon - clean, they finally have a quiet, somewhat private moment to themselves. There's an odd reminder in his brain that he's going to get married. It's a nearly indescribable feeling in his book, that he'll be with her, through the good and the bad and everything (they've essentially already been going through this), but actually be husband and wife.

But, there's another reminder on the loose of how it all started, just sitting out there on the front lawn.

There is no love or human out there he knows of that can replace her. As cheesy as it sounds, from the depths of his heart and soul, he is very much attached to her in every way. Through understanding and love itself, he feels the same as her.

And he hopes, standing there while he gets to kiss her until they both can't breathe, she feels the same as he does. He no longer worries for his future with her.

As rough as it'll get, he just knows it'll work out.

(Liam nearly stumbles in on their moment.)