You don't know how it happened.

But it did.

You're irreversibly, inexplicably in love with one Cosima Niehaus.

…

At first, you don't realize it. Yes, her kisses make your chest burn and your skin tingle and your arousal pour. But that's biology. Yes, the sex was maddeningly hot and sweet and more than you had ever known. You didn't realize how desperately you needed her fingers until they were gone, and you didn't realize how talented she was until you couldn't breathe, until you entirely forgot how to. And you didn't realize how deep inside your bones she was, even in the little moment when your body screamed for oxygen and you didn't know how to appease it, and your only thoughts were of Cosima. Of holding her. Of living her.

You know the words in your head don't make sense. But neither does what you are feeling.

And you don't realize that this is the love everyone talks about.

Not right away.

You remember exactly how you realized it, though. It was a very long and very short process all in one.

You're pretty sure it started after the sex. You cried, because you had never felt something so amazingly perfect. You hadn't known what perfect was before that; before, you only imagined. And then she caught you, her worried eyes peering so deeply into yours, you fear she can see all the lies that have gotten you to this point. Into her bed. Into her heart.

But she just listens to your half-assed explanation, her face pensive as she plays with your fingers. Then you change the subject rapidly, unwilling to think about anyone else. You ask for ice cream. And the smile she gives. You don't know how, but she always manages to smile with her eyes before she actually smiles. It's the cutest thing you've ever seen. She does this, and your heart flutters. She hums and your skin jumps to life. She bites her lip in that irresistible way, leaning ever so slightly closer, and your hunger changes from the ice cream back to her in a millisecond.

But she was only leaning forward to get enough momentum to sit, and when her presence is gone, you are cold. You are craving her again.

"I'm gonna go to the store and I'm gonna get us some Eskimo Pies."

Her words barely register in your ears, much less their meaning.

"Eskimo…" is all you manage in an exhale.

You're too busy trying not to notice how empty her bed feels.

But your eyes manage to find her again, and you hear her voice a confirmation.

"I don't think I know it," you admit, rolling your head to the side to get a better view.

You catch a glimpse of her toned stomach and beautiful curves before their hidden away under that wonderful coat. All of a sudden, you can almost think straight again. You look up into her eyes.

"Prepare yourself," she says, "You're about to become a craven addict."

She slips on her glasses and tilts her head to the side. You're a goner all over again.

"I think I already am," you say dreamily.

Her mouth drops open slightly, as if shocked you're even still there, much less saying romantic things to her. But then she grins. It's bright and happy and it makes you feel almost warm again.

That's when you should've first had an inkling. But you still didn't realize.

It isn't until later that it hits you.

She calls you right after the class you T.A. for. Right after. Because you realize she knows your schedule now. You meet her at her flat, and she is yelling before you even sit down. It's not at you. It's at her professor that gave her a bad grade.

And as you sit there, watching her pace and rant and wave her arms around, that is when you realize how in love you are.

The way she bites her lip in anger, but to you still find it sexy. The way her words come a mile a minute from her mouth, but she isn't babbling. Each word is precise and thought out, and you understand that she is giving you an exclusive look inside her head. How rapidly she thinks and how extremely hard she works to pull it back for other people.

She is there, offering herself to you, and you want more. You want to discover her every day. You want to feel her heartbeat every night. You want her to want you and feel the same way.

And it's also in that moment that you realize you cannot have it.

You haven't even begun anything with her, and you've already screwed it up.

You don't deserve her.

But you're selfish. And you want her anyway.

So you cry.

Right there, in the middle of her speech, you are crying.

She doesn't notice at first, too lost in her words and her frustration. She doesn't notice until you can't keep quiet anymore. Your silent tears turn to actual sobs, and she's at your side before she can even finish her sentence.

She pulls you into her arms, and you fold against her.

"I'm sorry," you breathe against her chest. "Je suis désolé."

She mistakes your apology for that of interrupting her.

"It's okay honey. My problem was stupid. It's okay, what's wrong?"

It makes you cry harder. But you repeat your words in shaky gasps and hiccupping breaths, because maybe, just maybe, if you say it enough now, it will stick when she finds out the truth. She continues to wipe your cheeks and rub your back, and you continue to mumble.

"I'm so sorry, ma chérie."