There is no way in heck either of us expected to have found each other the way we did, or perhaps even at all, really. But it's been eight years now. Eight years of ups and downs, of frustrations and flirting and overwhelming attraction to each other. Eight years of pushing away and pulling close and somehow never being able to let go. Your smell just as intoxicating to me now as it was the second we met. The years of getting to know you only making me want to know you even more. I have never met anyone like you. Your kindness and charm seemingly endless. And knowing that no matter how badly I fuck up, no matter how much of a mess I make of myself or of us, you are always there. Always, fucking always. I don't know how I have been this lucky or deserving of you, but believe me when I tell you that I would never want to be without you, even when I have said otherwise. You are my greatest love. This steady stream of admiration of you courses through my veins with every pump of this smitten heart of mine. Thank you for being part of my life. I know there is so much more to come that we haven't even scratched the surface of yet. These boundless, primal depths of us. You and me.
Oh, mon cher docteur. Mon amour. Tant que j'ai le souffle, toujours toi.
