[...] [Curls his fingers gently through his hair and pulls him in closer, pressing his forehead to his]
You're my love, too. [Even if he's always too embarrassed to use the sappy names like you do] And I will always, always love your poetry about my eyes. And having you in my arms when I wake up. I want to wake up to you in my arms for the rest of my very long, balding life.