Always Fighting // Kyrie Irving

Champagne Secrets

His body smells like champagne, his clothes, his hair, him. It has become his new scent. It smells of happiness and hard work and sickly sweet. It is a smell that makes her love him even more.

She smells like him. Dressed in his game worn jersey, draped by his sweatshirt. Him. It smells like happiness and hard work and distinctly, him. It's a smell that maker him love her even more.

The room is dark, but their smiles are wide and their eyes are bright. She thinks she smells roses from the other room, but she is so happy, curled up against his chest, she doesn't really know. What else would anyone know? They are content together. Perfectly, wonderfully, content.

He knows what's in the other room, he knows what he has to do. His heart beats erratically and he prays she doesn't feel its thuds as it tries to escape it's prison. Maybe he's scared to ruin this moment, maybe he's too tired to think about what it will bring. They are so relaxed here. Nothing can stop them. Nothing at all.

But he knows what he has to do. She's tired, he can feel it by the heaviness of her limbs against his chest. Her breathing is deep and quiet and calm, and he hates to disturb her, but he must. Quietly, he whispers her name in her ear, stroking a stray piece of hair the falls over her face. He helps lift her off of his chest, coxing her to stand.

She's tired, but the way he whispers her name so silkily makes her body move. She doesn't even know why she is tired, she should be too overcome by excitement and adrenaline to sleep, but she is. Briefly she wonders why the smell of roses is getting stronger and why she is no longer curled against her boyfriend's chest. Why she no longer smells the champagne on his body, why she no longer senses his smile.

She wonders, again, why she is even walking anywhere. Why aren't they lying on his bed, side by the side the way they are supposed to be? He says her name again, and she look closer around the room she is in. Confused, she rubs her bleary eyes until they open wider looking at the candlelight room covered in rose petals. Looking at her wonderful, handsome man poised on one knee, holding a box in his hand.

He watches as she slowly comes to life more and more, her eyes filling with tears in what he hopes is happiness. Watching as they trickle slowly down her face. He opens the box then, revealing a diamond ring. It's simple, just like her. It doesn't demand attention, but it deserves it nonetheless. It sparkles in the darkness and gleams in the light.

He takes a deep breath so he can express his love, something he has been scared of since he first met her. She is too good for him and yet she wants him. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. He didn't know if it was good to be sappy or if he should be professional. Do you reminisce about the past or declare hope for the future? He didn't know, but he no longer cared.

She pauses before she speaks, grabbing his hand and pulling him to both feet. Tears fill her eyes because she wants to say yes, but she's scared he won't.

"Kyrie," she says, her voice trembling. "I never told you this because I always told myself I had more time. But I can't go on pretending this isn't a part of my life. I can't do that to you. At one time I was positive you knew, but then I doubted everything. My last name isn't Aston... it's Kerr." To her astonishment, he doesn't take a step back, neither does hesitation fill his eyes. Instead, he smiles and pulls her into a hug, something she definitely didn't expect.

"I know," he says, holding back a laugh. Whether from delirium or happiness, he's not sure. "I know and I have known, Sabrina, and I don't care about any of it. Your past doesn't influence how I see you today, nor does your parentage change us." He's known for a few days, now. Klay told him during game five of the Finals. Not outright, because not even Klay would do that. Instead, he tormented his mind with a statement. But before the Finals started he bought this ring, with the full intent to use it regardless of whether he was an NBA champion or not. Now he was a champion, and maybe he had been frustrated when Klay mentioned it, but it no longer mattered. What mattered was them

"We all have our secrets," He says. "I have mine and you have yours. But they don't make us who we are together. And who we are together is all that matters. Besides, I have my own secret that I've been meaning to tell you. Sabrina Nicole Aston, I love you, and I have loved you since, quite possibly, the moment I laid eyes on you."

She laughs, a watery laugh, that send fresh tears down her face. She pulls him into a hug, a huge smile on her face. "Kyrie Andrew Irving, you are terrible at keeping secrets. We've known that for forever."

Letting go, she offers up her hand so he can put the ring on her finger.

"With this ring," He says, tilting her head up so he can kiss her.

"You are now Sabrina Nicole Irving and I am Forever Yours."