A little extra

Henry's p.o.v.

She was so beautiful. So utterly, tremendously beautiful. A part of me wanted to turn her into a statue and display her in a museum. Maybe someday, I would—not that she would want me to.

Because with that immense beauty, came an even bigger insecurity. I saw it in the way she ducked her head when she was offered a compliment—and that was on good days. On bad days, she would fake a smile, say "Thank you," and then turn away so she could let her smile drop, that beautiful face turning dark. She would refuse to believe the compliment was genuine, that whomever had given it to her had been lying straight through their teeth, that they were just complimenting her so they could mess with her head. Why would they need to, though, if her own head already messed with her enough?

She had become better at accepting my compliments, though. I could see it in the way her eyes sparkled, in the way her smile was actually genuine, in the way that she retained eye contact. It was a very small step in the right direction, but a step nonetheless. One day, I hoped to help her believe in herself even more. Believe that all the compliments she received—and they were bountiful—were heartfelt.

Juliette Morrison was truly the love of my life. I had known that for much longer than just today, of course, but every time I looked at her, it still surprised me that she was mine. That she had chosen me to give her affections to, instead of one of the thousands of other men who would gladly take my place.

And my God, was her love strong. It filled every fiber of my being, warming me up, protecting me from harm, lifting me up into the sky. Her love was home, a safe haven where nothing or no one could ever hurt me. Her passion didn't fuel only me, but thousands of others. They recognized it in her; that drive to love, to nurture, to make the world a better place. And with her in it, it actually was. She could brighten up a room with just her smile, turn it into a supernova with her laugh. Despite everything, she had an iron will to live and to make the most out of life—even though she was sometimes a little bit scared of it.

She was six years younger than me, but she was so much more intelligent than I was. She was the perfect combination of book-smarts and wisdom. It was like she knew the answer to every question, and if she didn't, she wouldn't rest until she did. She read people so very well. She could take one look at a person and immediately know what they were feeling and what they needed. And she would never hesitate to give that and more to them.

I couldn't look away as she lay naked beside me. In the pale moonlight, her usually tan skin seemed to glow almost silver. Her brown hair, dark and thick, spilled over her pillow. I wanted to kiss the light dusting of freckles on her cute upturned nose. Her full lips, her bottom lip somewhat fuller than the top one, were slightly turned up in a small smile, and I wondered what she was dreaming about.

But when her smile widened, showing off a row of straight white teeth, I realized she hadn't been sleeping at all. "Stop staring at me, Cavill," she mumbled.

I laughed softly, tracing a line on her bare stomach with my fingertip. "I can't."

"It's not that hard. Just close your eyes and go to sleep." She hadn't even opened hers, but the smile had never left her face.

I shook my head, even though she wouldn't be able to see. "I can't. You're too beautiful."

She finally opened her eyes, only to roll them at me. The intense green of her irises always made me wonder if they were real or if she actually was a magical creature, just like I'd always suspected. "Liar," was all she said.

I shook my head at her. "No, I'm not. You're so damn beautiful, and it kills me that you can't see it. I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you—the way that so many others see you."

She sighed heavily, rolling onto her side so she could fully face me. "Henry, it's three am. It's much too late for this shit."

Smiling, I said, "I thought three am was the perfect time for deep conversations?"

"This is a deep conversation?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

I shrugged one shoulder. "It is to me. I need you to see yourself as the beautiful goddess that you are."

At that, she laughed. Her laugh was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard, without a single doubt. It was like it warmed up my very soul. "A goddess, huh?" Her laugh softened into a smile. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask." I placed a hand on her hip and pulled her close, until her naked body collided with mine. With my free hand, I cupped her face and tilted her chin up, perfectly aligning our faces. I smiled before I captured her lips with my own.

It was a simple kiss, but it still silenced my brain. All it could still process was the feeling of her velvety-soft lips underneath mine, how our lips seemed to melt together. She placed a small hand on my chest, and I was sure she could feel my erratic heartbeat. I didn't mind, though—I had long since given up on hiding my body's reactions to her, even before we'd gotten together. Hiding them was simply much too exhausting.

When we broke the kiss, Juliette nestled into my chest and pulled my arm around her waist, locking herself into my hold. She pressed a kiss to my chest and closed her eyes. "I love you," she mumbled.

I couldn't help but smile. Hearing those three little words from her still made my heart soar with pure happiness. "I love you, too. So much."

"Good. Now go the fuck to sleep."

I laughed, holding her a little tighter. I pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. "I'll try, love. I'll try."