He does not understand.
He never understands why she even questions about the way she looks. In his eyes she is the epitome of beauty. Everything about her is oozing with grace: the way she walks, how she speaks with confidence, and how her eyes look crystalize that they shine with glee. She is so beautiful that the goddess, Venus, cannot compete nor compare.
Therefore, he does not understand at all.
He will never understand.
But that is no excuse. The compliments he often declares to her are not of empty words. They are especially not words of sympathy nor words to ease her insecurities. They are merely facts. What or how he sees is solely based on what he believes and perceives is the truth. No lies. No sugarcoat. Just facts.
So what does he do? He reminds her:
"Your hair: though it may be short now, it makes it easier for me to run my hands through the soft locks whenever I lean down and kiss you." He leans down, grasps her hair, and runs his long fingers to prove his point. He kisses her once on the cheek, then on the other side, and then finally his lips land on her soft, petal ones.
His gaze slowly moves up to her eyes—her alluring and authentic eyes—and he continues,
"Your eyes: they tell so many stories and the emotions you show are so vivid, I can get lost in it in a matter of seconds then further get wrapped up in it for minutes, hours, or maybe even days."
Never breaking eye contact, he drags his hands down her cheek to her neck and all the way to her exposed arms. As he explores with his fingertips, he can feel everything: the softness of her skin to the growing goosebumps that is slowly appearing. He whispers to her,
"Your skin: I love every inch of it. From head to toe, I would kiss every single inch of it over and over again. Even your battle scars. These scars that might remind you of your physical imperfections, but dear, don't you know? They remind me that you survived and perfectly alive and breathing. And most importantly, the fact that you're here with me."
Finally breaking eye contact with her, he engulfs her in a tight yet affectionate hug.
"Your body: even though you're small and short, your actions, however, tell a different story. You are neither breakable nor weak. You are strong that you don't need me or anyone else protecting you."
He lets go of her and places his large hand on her chest, right on her erratic beating heart.
"And finally, my favorite part is your heart. Although it's not a physical characteristic, your heart is what essentially composes of who you truly are. Your heart speaks for what your eyes and lips cannot express. Without your heart, my heart will not be able to comprehend this indescribable feeling whenever I'm with you. And without your heart, our hearts will not beat in unity."
He takes a deep breath and bends down, their foreheads touching.
"So don't you understand? In my eyes, you are flawless."
After a couple of seconds, she breaks out of her reverie and lets out a soft laugh.
"Ichigo, I only asked if this dress looked good on me."
He merely stares at her, already lost from the laugh she released.
"But thank you."
Hey, it's been a while! So this drabble sorta just implanted itself in my head at 10 in the night and I just wanted to share it with you guys. Also, I just wanted to publish so I can finally not stress about it haha.
There maybe a few mistakes (didn't have anyone check it), but like my previous stories, just PM me for any grammar mistakes or any awkward sentences!
Well, yeah, that's it! I just needed to satisfy my system with Ichiruki. I've been deprived of it lately.