He should probably have known better - it wasn't like he didn't catch himself staring, every now and then - staring while he wondered how he'd been so lucky; a word he didn't like to use, because "luck" had too often struck him as an excuse to ignore the logical consequences of one's own actions.
But he really couldn't think of anything he'd done to deserve her other than luck. She'd kept prying and kept looking for what was in the depths of his heart, no matter how many times he'd given her plenty of reason to stop; she'd stayed with him when if any of a hundred little things had gone even a bit differently, they might never have made it this far.
Saitou didn't know what else there was to call that, if not luck.
But no matter how many times he'd stopped and stared and found himself lost in his own thoughts about what she meant to him - thoughts that were nothing but flattering to her - he could never help but second-guess himself whenever she did the same, and the hand behind her neck moved forward again to cup her cheek.
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But he really couldn't think of anything he'd done to deserve her other than luck. She'd kept prying and kept looking for what was in the depths of his heart, no matter how many times he'd given her plenty of reason to stop; she'd stayed with him when if any of a hundred little things had gone even a bit differently, they might never have made it this far.
Saitou didn't know what else there was to call that, if not luck.
But no matter how many times he'd stopped and stared and found himself lost in his own thoughts about what she meant to him - thoughts that were nothing but flattering to her - he could never help but second-guess himself whenever she did the same, and the hand behind her neck moved forward again to cup her cheek.
"Is anything wrong?"