thirty three . the confession

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Y/N POV

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Y/N POV

              I sit across from Wilbur, both of us were sat on wooden chairs but are separated by a fancy looking table

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              I sit across from Wilbur, both of us were sat on wooden chairs but are separated by a fancy looking table. He brought me to a restaurant that was so fancy and expensive that I couldn't even understand the name. He sat (and looked) like a gentleman, his hands were placed on his lap, he wore a freshly ironed black suit jacket along with a silky white dress shirt. He looked like an awkward school boy with the way he kept nervously glancing around. "Woah.. Y/N, they have a mirror on the ceiling" His tone wasn't worried, more like awe, amazed by how fancy this place was.

"Do you wanna move tables?" I ask, knowing of his fear. He shakes his head and purses his lips, placing his hands on the table.

"No, it's alright. I can't see myself" He smiles at me. "Thank you for remembering something about me" He turns his hand to bring his palm to face upwards, I take the hint and place my hand in his. "Every bit of you looks so much prettier than usual today" He compliments me. I smile. "Your smile is still the same though, beautiful as always.." He whispers.

"I would say the same to you but you'll just brush it off and compliment me more" I grin, he puckers his lips and shamefully looks down at the table, knowing I was right.

"I won't. Promise" He looks back at me, bringing his other hand onto the table (palm up). I place my other hand in his and glance up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking of a compliment I could give him.

"I see you actually styled your hair today" I comment, he kisses his lips, biting back a smile. "And you're also more handsome than usual" I grin, watching as his grip on my hands falter for a second before adjusting his hold and grasping my hands again. He gets red in the face, he takes his hands away from mine and places them neatly back onto his lap, then adverts his gaze from me. "I can't tell if you're enjoying the compliments or embarrassed that someone loves you this much" I nudge his foot with mine, I cross my arms and lean onto the table.

"Both-- I-I don't get compliments much, you know that.." He mutters, staring down at the floor. "It's nice and their unique, just like the words 'I love you'-- can I say something that's been on my mind for a while?" He cuts himself off with a question. I immediately nod. "If we say 'I love you' to each other to much I'm worried it'll lose its importance and uniqueness" He admits to me. "So.. can we say it a bit less--? N-Not that I don't.. like.. not feel that way towards you or anything, I'm just.. I'm worried.." He trails off, trying to save himself from the hole he keeps digging deeper.

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