The Perfect Pair.

She came home late one afternoon, struggling to open the door to her apartment. She’d just gotten back from the grocery shopping and her hands were full of bags

“Babe?” she called out into their home, hoping that he was there. No response came however, but then again that wouldn’t be something new. He often locked himself in his office with his headphones in, the music turned up so loud that he wouldn’t even hear her yelling at him from a foot away. With a sigh she kicked the front door closed as she headed towards the kitchen so that she could put the bags down. She checked the living room on her way, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

She placed the bags on the counter and started to put their contents away in the pantry and fridge. She sighed when she was finally able to fold up the bags and put them away in the cupboard. She’d hoped that he’d appear during that time, but it was still to no avail. Maybe he was out. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and sent him a quick text:

I’m home, where are you?

She tapped it a couple of times in her palm, his responses were usually immediate, where could he be?

She put the phone away and made her way back towards the living room. Maybe he was here. He’d promised he’d start the laundry if she went out and did the shopping. She stopped in her tracks, seeing one of his infamous socks in the middle of the hardwood floor. She picked up the bright purple sock that was adorned in yellow ducks laughing to herself.

She stopped giggling as she spotted a pair over by the couch. This time they were navy with tiny blue anchors. She walked over to it, picking them up. One, she could understand; it must have fallen from the basket when he was washing the clothes. But two socks together? That meant that he’d been wearing them, but got warm so he’d discarded them on the floor, leaving them there for her to pick up later on, seeing as he never did it himself.

“Pat?” she called out. “What have I told you about leaving your socks lying around?” She huffed in frustration but then noticed all the single socks laying across the seat cushions of the couch. A yellow one with mustaches, a pair of blue polka dot ones and one with tacos on them.

Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. There was no way this was him simply dropping one from a hamper, or part of his bad habit of leaving them lying around. What was he playing at?

She grabbed the three single socks, staring at them in confusion as she went down the hall towards his office, to check and see if he was there. She lost her footing and had to press her hand against the wall to keep herself from falling.

There was another damn sock on the floor! She’d slipped on it, almost causing her spill. As her heart rate slowed she picked it up, only to notice the trail of socks down the hallway. They were on the floor, on the tiny decorative table, hanging off doorknobs and picture frames.

“Patrick?” she called out again, but there was still no answer. She picked up the different socks, following the trail towards the last doorway of the hall; the one to their bedroom. She groaned as she stepped into the room. What seemed to be the contents of his sock drawer was spilled out onto the floor.

Although, after further examination, she realized that they were all the socks that matched the growing pile in her arms. The mustaches, tacos, dots, sharks, watermelons were all lying on the floor. She dropped the ones she was holding and picked up a folded note that sat on top of the pile that had her name on it.

Like socks, we work better as a pair….

Her lips twitched at the cheesiness of it, but she was still utterly confused about it. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the top drawer of her dressed that was open. That’s where she usually kept her socks. There was one she didn’t recognize hanging out of it.

She stepped closer, picking it up so that she could examine it. It was black and white, with a tiny red bow at the top. A little tuxedo sock. The other one was laying as the bottom of the empty drawer. It was all white, no design on it. That was definitely not one of his socks - it was too simple- but it wasn’t hers either. And where had all of hers gone?

Her perfectionist and tidy nature made her reach out for it so that she could fold the two together. She paused when she saw a tiny box hidden underneath the sock. It was black velvet. Her heart was pounding as she reached out, discarding the socks to the side as her fingers ran along it. She bit her lip, as she picked it up and slowly opened the box.

She was disappointed to find it empty of what she’d expected to find. Regardless, she pulled out the tiny note anyway and unfolded it.

..so let me live as your socks so that I can walk with you every step of the way.

She heard him clear his throat behind her.

“Pat, what is all of-” she stopped speaking, suddenly at a loss for words as she found him down on one knee in front of her.

“F-For the longest time, I never thought tha-that I’d find that one person, you-you know? The one everyone talks a-about. That person that everything f-feels easy with; natural. I d-didn’t think I c-could find anyone that w-would put up with all t-the c-crazy,” he stuttered, chuckling a little to himself. His voice was shaking he was so nervous.

“B-but then you came a-along. I, I don’t...I can’t explain it really. You’re not m-my other half; you compliment me. We’re like t-two socks, t-those t-wo socks. At f-first glance they look so, so different, b-but if you g-give them a c-closer look, you see that t-they do match. T-they’re perfect together. Like you and me.”

She smiled at him gently, holding out her hand to him as he reached for it.

“So, I-I-I, uh, have a q-question for you,” he stuttered, smiling up at her nervously.

“Yes, Patrick?” she had to bite down on her lower lip, fighting back a grin. Her heart was beating a hundred miles a minute, she knew what was coming, she knew exactly what he was going to ask.If only he could just spit it out already.

“Will you m-marry me? Will you complete my p-pair?” He held up the ring he’d nervously been clutching against his palm the whole time. It was a platinum band, with a single, round diamond on the top. It wasn’t too big, it was simple, but perfect. Elegant without being overly fancy or flashy.

She grinned, giggling lightly at his wording.

“Yes,” she replied nodding repeatedly. The boy broke out into a grin, reaching out for her other hand so that he could slip on the ring that fit her finger perfectly. He stood up from the floor, quickly wrapping his arms around her waist so that he could pick her up off of the ground and spin her a couple of times. She squealed, clutching to his shoulders as she laughed. He finally set her back down on her feet so that he could press his lips to her passionately.

She draped her arms loosely around his neck, kissing him back.

“As cute and cheesy as that was,” she said, pulling away after a moment. He rested his forehead on hers. “You better be cleaning up all of the socks mister.”

He rolled his eyes, laughing. Of course she’d go all neat freak on him now being more worried about the pile of socks on the floor of their impeccably clean bedroom.

“But that’s why we’re such a good match!” he replied, his speech coming out fluently now that the nervousness had passed. “I make the mess and you clean it!”

She raised her brows at his teasing. “You better pick them up, or the ‘other sock of your pair’ will get lost in the dryer,” she warned, stepping away from his embrace. His bottom lip jutted out into a pout as she made her way out of the room.

“Hurry up, I want to show this off,” she grinned, wiggling the fingers on her left hand. Pat chuckled, shaking his head as he went to start picking up the socks.

“Hey Pat,” his fiance said, popping her head back into the room. He looked up at her. “I love you,” she said smiling at him.

“I love you a wool lot more,” he replied tossing one of his wool socks at her. Her laugh rang out through the apartment as she threw it back at him.

“Stuff a sock in it Kirch,” she laughed, pulling her phone out as she went towards the living room to call her mom. That boy was too cheesy for his own good.