The Sunspire [m] Lying in the dark with a wake curled over my head

It was in her words that Boone found himself.
She speaks and it sounds as if it must be coming from him; the gripping, soul-eviscerating fear that one day one will lose the other. And he understood, oh, how he understood, possibly much more than she could ever imagine.
His heart thrums in his chest and beats into his ears, and before he's even aware of it, his own tears begin to form at the corners of oakwood eyes. I'm not gonna get sick a' you, babydoll, he reaches forward to kiss the tears that roll down honey-gold cheeks. as long as you don't get sick a' me. I mean, c'mon, I-- I followed you all the way here, didn't I? I wouldn't'a done that if I was plannin' on gettin' outta dodge the first second I could. I just-- his breath catches in his throat before he shatters into a sullen laugh. man, God almighty, the desert ain't for me.
And it was in that lapse of silence that he hears that word; love; she's falling in love with him. And part of him, some disgustingly logical part of him said that it was far too soon for either of them to know what forever would look like with the other, that this giddiness and feathersoft air between them would last. That the passion would fade and resentment would grow and boil into something heartless;
But he looks at her, at those soft golden eyes and that dainty nose, the little platinum hairs that line her cheeks; he smells her, that saltpine clutch and the way she feels beneath him and beside him.
If they both meant forever, to build a home, to be a family — why did formalities matter?
Fuck it.
Reverie, sincerity tugs at his vocal chords, threads every muscle and every cell within him, and like a gentleman he extends himself into some sort of awkward, haphazard bow. Only briefly does he look to see where they are, and they may as well be on top of the world. will you be my wife? Right here, right now.