here’s a thing i wrote on my birthday. read it here too if u like.
He calls her Lil.
There’s something about the way
he says it, something playful and magnetic. Something gentle. Something raw.
“Lil, pass me the salt,”
through a mouthful of food.
“Lil, you look like a sunflower in that dress,” when he can’t stop looking for her as she runs down the stairs
in a flurry.
“Lil, I kind of bloody love you. Just a little bit,” when she’s curled up on the couch reading while they listen
Or even “Hey, Lil, I ever told you about the time me and Sirius were caught
painting the prefects bathroom at 2am?”
She’s always liked the way it
rolls of his tongue, so easily, but something about it always feels like a kick
in the gut.
Because he’s an idiot, an all-consuming
nerd with lanky limbs and hair that
will never behave and, would you believe,
he cried in awe when she took him to see Star Wars.
He tries to cook her special
dinners without magic but makes too many puns and burns the food while laughing
at his own jokes. He pokes her in the ribs so she’ll pay attention to him and
his belly rumbles with laugher whenever she lays on him and the boys are there.
His hands are warm and he buys her flower bouquets that are filled with every
“But, Lil, they all reminded me
of you,” Lil.
Her favourite sound is his hoarse
morning voice, when she’s making breakfast and watering the sunflowers on the
windowsill. He’ll tumble down the stairs and throw his arms around her
awkwardly, whispering morning into
her ear. One time he made her knock the sunflowers over in shock.
He’s a dork, a dork that she can
feel in her pulse, like he’s part of her now, like she never wants anyone else to
say morning to her again, like she
can’t get rid of him. She doesn’t ever want to.
He’s in love with her, the way
she’s in love with him. She leaves kisses at the bottom of the shopping list
and always misspells necessarily. She
wears stockings with rips in them and once tried to dye a strip of her pink,
forgetting how badly it would clash with the rest of it.
He tumbles over his words when he
cares a lot and he pushes his hair into his face when he’s talking, trips
trying to kick Remus in the shins playfully. Stays up until 4am to make sure
his friends are okay and wakes up at sunrise to make sure Lily is still
He knows all the words to yellow
submarine and he sings it while drunk, even if his favourite Beatles song is
actually she’s so heavy.
And she can feel her cheeks still
go warm, she’s nineteen and she should probably be starting to figure life out,
oh, but he makes her feel so young and electric, like her teenage years should
be. He lets her call him several variations of Jim, whether its jimmy, Jim
jams, jammy Jims, or jiminy cricket. Even if he rolls her eyes when Sirius,
Remus, Peter or even Marlene walk into their flat mumbling greetings of “Oi, Jiminy Cricket,” Because lily made
them watch Disney films one rainy afternoon.
They kind of make each other’s
heartbeats rise and slow all at once and it’s kind of messy because sometimes
she cries about the war in the middle of the night and he has nightmares about
Sirius dying and he’ll cling to her for support and she’ll let him.
But then, oh then, other times he’ll
walk down the stairs and her hair is alight in the morning sun as she’s watering the sunflowers, and he’s in love.
And she’ll look at him while he’s
having a snarky conversation with Remus or tackling Sirius or making cookies
with Pete and she’ll think there’s a
reason I picked you.
And he calls her Lil.