tender by mut

tender – adjective

soft, gentle, or delicate; affectionate or loving
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"It’s not like you to come home this late, again."

"Well, usually people were not that stubborn."

A quiet laugh, and a sound of water being poured into a cup. A familiar sign that he’s not actually angry about you coming home late, but maybe just a little bit ticked off. It is after all the third time you came home this late, and it’s only Thursday. You really need to take care of the problem at work fast, or there’ll be a riot and your office can’t take another riot this year.

“Tardiness is not an attractive quality, you know.”

“It’s a good thing that you’re already enamored with me.”

“Only old and lame people use words like ‘enamored’, you old lame person.”

“Ouch, you wound me.”

“Good.”

Only a second after you sit down on the sofa, you hear a footsteps followed by one of your favorite view: a cup of hot tea, and the handsome but tired face of him. Slowly, you take the cup and let the warmth seeps into your hands, relaxing you instantly. Finally, you’re home.

"Thanks, babe."

“I want to say ‘anytime’ but-“

“-it’s the truth.”

He snorts. You just smile.

After a few more sips, you finally take your eyes off of the cup in front of you and meet his amused eyes. He knew not to come in between you and your tea, especially after you came home from work. You just give him a small and equally amused smile, know for sure that he’ll see the gratitude that shine brightly from your eyes. His smiles widen in return.

"Hungry?"

"Starving. I forgot to eat lunch."

His whole face becoming so flat you had to stop yourself from giggling. It will only make him pout and grumpy and withhold dessert, and you really need those sugars. He shuffled to the kitchen, a sure tell that he’s also exhausted but willing to be the one who prepare your dinner.

You can’t believe someone loves you this much.

“You don’t have to prepare the meal, babe.”

“Nah, I haven’t eaten either.”

You make a face at him even though he cannot see you. Such a hypocrite.

“So, did you cook or bring take out?”

“What do you think?”

“Ah, take out.”

Finishing your tea, you stand up and shuffled behind him, smiling softly while listening to his not-so-quiet grumbling. It’s adorable. He’s adorable. A few steps until you reach the kitchen, you recognize a familiar tune that came from your room. But…

“I thought you hate classical music?”

“I did.”

“So it’s not Liebestraum No. 3 that I heard from the loud speaker in our room?”

“Nah, you must be mistaken.”

“Honey, it’s my favorite classical piece. I played it here like four times a week. If you don’t recognize it, I’m worried about your memory.”

He didn’t answer, not that you expect him to. The tips of his ears reddened slightly. Even after all these years, this amazing man got flustered every time he shows you how he loves and cares for you.  It’s endearing.

He turn on the stove and put something on the pot. From the smell, seems like tonight’s dinner will be something spicy and full of seafood, but you know for sure that you don’t have those ingredients on the fridge…

“So you did bring a take out.”

“What, you think I’ll cook? As if.”

“I can feel the love.”

“Good.”

You put the cup on the counter and rest your back on the edge, watching him simmer your dinner. Pad thai, your favorite. Ah, he never cease to amaze you with his thoughtfulness. Your heart is so full of affection you can hardly breathe.

He seems to know what you were thinking because the next seconds he turns around and watch you quietly. A few beats, and then he take your hands to make you come closer and encircle his arms around you. Another few beats, and finally you sigh softly and rest your head on his shoulder. From another room, Liebestraum finally finished, and then another piece starts. It was Reverie. This time, he slowly lowers his arms from around your shoulders to your waist. Your hands found its way to his shoulder, and at the same time you sways both your bodies to match the melodies. Left, right. Left, right. Unconsciously, you close your eyes, and just enjoy his presence while he rest his cheek on top of your head.

“You're going to burn our dinner," you whispered quietly. Something precious and tender was in the air, and you loathe to break it. It’s been a while since you both feel this tender, this soft. Your entire being just focus on him.

"But it’s been a long time since we dance. Our dinner can wait,” he whispered back, never break a step or even falter.

"Says the person who already ate his lunch."

But still, you didn’t try to take a step back from him, and he didn’t let you go. Instead, he pull you closer even though it was impossible for him to do so and hold you tighter. His whole being surround you. His smell, his arms, his body, his being. He’s your rock, your calm.

You never know or understand how you can be this lucky, or how can someone love you this much. You can only hold him tight, trying to be his rock and his calm, and loves him back. From the other room the music plays on, with you both slow dancing quietly into the night.

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