Sinking

distinguished

"Happy Birthday!" I ran into my bedroom, not really sure why I was only calling it my bedroom when Phil was in it all the time. My boyfriend was still asleep, as usual, since I was the one that always woke up first. I pounced on him after setting down the tray I had, causing him to roll around in the sheets and let out a groan as I excitedly shook him awake. "Happy Birthday to you," I sang, "Happy Birthday dear Philly, happy Birthday to you!"

"I was hoping you'd let me sleep in," He grumbled, but I heard the love in his voice so I just rolled my eyes, the smile remaining on my face. 

"Nope!" I replied, "It's a big day, which means we have a big list of activities. First off, breakfast." I turned around and reached for the tray of food I'd brought in, filled with multiple breakfast items.

"I can't eat all this," Phil replied while slipping on his glasses.

I laughed, moving to settle against the pillow next to his. "I know, that's why I'm going to share."

It took us about an hour, mostly because the tray kept tipping every time we would go to kiss and we would yell and move it back and then laugh for a solid two minutes, but also because I wasn't eating as much as I was looking at him, bright eyed behind the lenses that allowed him to see, his cheekbone even darker considering the way the light from the window was falling onto us, his hair wavy and pushed upwards, messy in a way that was perfect.

I hadn't realized it before, not really; I'd never distinguished the feeling of happiness and crushes differentiating from love. But there was a difference, I noticed now, between being young and crushing on someone because you liked them compared to being mature and thinking about the fact that life had its hardships, and the person who you went to when things got rough, the person who came to you: that was the one you kept. They were the one you could laugh with while running down the street but they were the same person who held you when laughing or even moving were the last things you felt like doing.

Happiness was controversial; everyone had a different version of it, and everyone had different layers of how happiness could come to them. You can be sad and yet have things that make you happy. You can have the most terrible things happen to you but always find the one thing that keeps you in the now. And while you're barely hanging on with a rope close to snapping, you will meet someone who will hold onto that rope. And tie it tighter. And pull you closer and closer until maybe all of the bad things don't seem too bad anymore.

I was in love, but I don't think I realized it fully that morning of Phil's birthday. I just knew that something had changed.

Something.

I realized I felt happy, which was one of the strangest understandings I'd ever come to. I couldn't remember the last time I felt happy; except for these little moments I had with Phil. Within the past three weeks actually, ever since the first day of the new year, I was encountering more and more moments where my brain could comprehend the elation that nearly every day brought to me. It was always because of Phil being near me, or PJ telling me a joke, or Louise giving me a hug, or Tyler cackling with laughter, or Troye randomly singing when we walked somewhere.

I decided then, with ease, that family was a choice.

"Do you have anything planned for me today?" Phil's voice broke me from my thoughts, the slight smile on my lips remaining there, however.

"Yes!" I responded, jumping up from his embrace. "Which, actually, we should get started on as soon as possible. It took us long enough to eat breakfast." Luckily, I'd already gotten dressed before waking him up, so we didn't have to spend forever waiting for me to choose which black shirt to wear and straighten each tiny wave in my hair. "Get dressed." I took the tray from his lap and set it on the bare table next to my bed, which was surprisingly not covered with paintbrushes or empty canvases at the moment. Since we were home nearly all the time except for school and work, I was starting to clean up a lot. Phil made this difficult, though, constantly throwing socks into the most random of places. I didn't understand how he even had so many socks to throw around in the first place, but this was probably because mine were always going missing.