Tell Me That You Love Me

"Hey, Jay?" Alex's small, tired voice called up to me from where he was cuddled into my chest. I felt him shift a bit, and when I looked down at him, he was already staring up at me through his eyelashes.

"Yeah, Lexy?" I questioned back, squeezing his waist tightly before relaxing my grip once more.

"What is love?" he inquired softly, readjusting himself so he was as he'd been before, side of his face pressed into the center of my torso.

I leaned back into my pillow, eyes slipping closed again as a smirk settled itself on my lips. "Baby, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, no more," was my answer, given perhaps just a bit too dramatically. I couldn't help a chuckle that escaped from my throat at my own cleverness, but I stopped to become serious when I felt his fingers twitch, the fist curled into a section of my shirt tightening just a tad more as he huffed, body becoming dead weight at the action.

"I'm being fucking serious right now," he grumbled, burying his face in my chest before he untangled himself from me and moved to stand, "but if you're just gonna be a smart ass about it, I'll go and ask someone else."

"Lex, don't be like that," I said, sitting up and catching his hand before he could get too far away from me. He tugged his hand from my grip, not uttering a word. "Babe, come on," I tried again. He stopped moving away from me, but didn't turn, his arms crossing stubbornly over his chest.

"All I asked was a simple question; you didn't have to go and make a joke out of it," he eventually muttered. I heaved myself to my feet and closed the distance between us, my arms sliding around his waist. He attempted to wiggle away, but I held him tighter, my lips moving to kiss along his neck and shoulder gently.

"I know, Lex, I'm sorry," I consoled lamely, my right hand moving from where it was resting over his stomach and up to his crossed arms. With some effort, I was able to get him to untangle the limbs enough to link our hands together, giving his fingers a firm squeeze between my own. "I just don't know how else to answer you. I don't know what love is."

"But you know you love me?" he questioned, and his tone may have been just a bit disbelieving.

"Of course I know that I love you," I said, nuzzling his hair. "Y'know, I could say the same thing to you."

"Yeah, you could, but you also can't because I asked first," he pointed out, and though it really wasn't logical, I kept quiet to let him think that it was. "How do you know you love me?" he inquired quietly, his free hand moving down to link with the one still pressed into his lower abdomen. "And don't say you could ask me the same thing," he warned.

"How do I know I love you..." I pondered aloud, hooking my chin over his shoulder thoughtfully. He nodded, either to confirm that I had gotten his question right or to prompt me to go on, I've no idea. "Let's see now... How do I know that I love Alex Gaskarth..." I began again, trying to stall to think of a reason. I didn't actually know how I knew, I just did. It was pretty much common sense at this point; loving Alex was just a natural instinct.

"I know that I love you because even after all these years, all of this time that we've spent together, in each other's presence, you still give me butterflies. They aren't even butterflies, they're fucking Lord of the Rings' eagles. And they're brandishing flaming machetes. Your kisses still knock me out, leave me absolutely breathless no matter how short, and even just the mention of your name makes me smile so stupidly big. My heartbeat begins to race when I see you, and when we make eye contact, I feel like I could just spontaneously combust, but that's okay because I wouldn't want or have it any other way. Do you even know what you do to me? I'm not even sure my sentences are making sense right now since my mind is completely fuzzed. Just having you this close to me makes me feel like an idiot, like I have to put extra effort into everything I do so that I don't fuck up and cause you to think so, too."

"I don't think you're an idiot," he mumbled, leaning back into me slightly. "Why do you love me?" was his next question, and I had to hold back a groan at it.

"I love you because you're you," I answered, hoping that'd be enough to hold him over so we could climb back into bed and just cuddle together. Once tour starts in a few days, there won't be nearly enough time in the day for that, so I need to get in as much as I can before then.

"Why, though?" he pushed. "What is it about me that you love?"

"Everything," I told him right away, and I could hear the gentle scoff.

"Such as?"

"Where do I even start? Okay, well, how about the fact that no matter how much of a rush we're in, if you so much as see a dog, you demand we spend a few minutes cooing and gushing over it? And the way that, if I compliment you on a new shirt or pair of skinny jeans, you insist on wearing them for months on end. Or when we were younger, and now even, when I do actually do something overly stupid, you don't stop loving me. Yeah, you tease me for a bit about it, but then you'll always help make it better and reassure me that you don't think any differently of me. When we get into silly fights over nothing, and you set up a mini 'I'm Sorry' date, and you watch Home Alone or The Nightmare Before Christmas or any other of my favorite movies with me and don't get upset about me reciting them, even though I know it annoys you sometimes. That's another thing: how you don't snap about me being obnoxious over movies. The way you get so excited about playing a show, no matter how small, and the way your eyes light up after shows, when you get to meet some of the kids. I love the way you say my name; it doesn't sound different to anyone else, but to me there's a big difference. No one else says it with so much.. well, with so much love. I love when..." I continue, but he cuts me off, clearly beginning to get embarrassed.

"Okay, I get i—"

"No," I interrupt, undoing our hands before turning him around. I set my hands on his hips and start walking backwards, him being dragged along in tow, eyes not meeting my face and a light blush covering his cheeks. As the backs of my knees hit the mattress, I twist us around so he lands on the center of the sheets, me hovering over him. "I'm not done yet."

His gaze finally meets mine, but it's only briefly before he's saying, "You don't have t—"

"I love it when you're so tired that you zone out and bite at your lip and twirl your hair between your fingers. I know I say I hate it, but I really don't because it's fucking cute. I love when you just wake up, how your hair is all curly and wavy and sticking up all over the place. I love how happy you get when you dye your hair, and it comes out great, and you end up taking a thousand selfies because you're literally that excited about it. I love that you always know the right things to say, no matter what the situation. I love how you can go on for days to Jeff about how the Ravens are better than the Patriots. I love how you can be completely crazy and outgoing when in front of others, yet quiet and reserved when it's just us. I love how you refuse to go to sleep without a good night kiss, and how, if for some reason we can't because of distance or whatever it may be, you insist that we stay on the phone until you do fall asleep. I love all of your little quirks and things; I love you."

As I listed off each reason, I'd press a kiss to his face, feel the skin heat up when my lips came into contact with it. With my last proclamation, I finally reached his own lips, but I decided it would have the best effect if I kept it short and sweet, the opposite of my explanation.

As I pulled away, I saw his eyelids flutter open, but his gaze moved down his body, landing on the wall. It was quiet for a few moments, his bottom lip being chewed on lightly before he asked, "Do you really mean all that?"

"Of course I mean all of it," I assured, leaning down to nudge our noses gently together.

A small smile spread across his lips as he looked up to meet my eyes, arms moving to wind around my neck. "So you can tell me how you know you love me, as well as why you love me, but you can't tell me what love is?" he pushed, and I knew now he wasn't even looking for a plausible answer, he was just trying to tease me.

I shrugged as best I could, pressed a kiss to his forehead and replied, "Love is what I feel for you."