7 Love Languages 소설 & 이야기

“But hey mister, you gotta slow down, don't want to get used to this,” “You should,” I blurt out. “Because giving is my love language, Lilah. Brace yourself,” “Gifting is your love language?” she repeats with a hoarse voice. I smirk, pulling out a file and flipping to the front page. “Not just that. I have other intense love language. Like right now, I want to take you hard against the nearest wall.” Her breath catches, and even through the phone, I can almost feel how hard her heart is beating.

The world around us melted away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the sweetness of the moment. “Thank you. But you know this is all unnecessary, right?” I said, pulling away from his embrace. He chuckled. “You tell me this every year, but does it ever change?” He asked. “Ok, that’s fair. Your love language is giving gifts, I get it.” I said, and with a playful snap of my fingers, a beautiful vase filled with water appeared. I gently placed the golden roses into it, their delicate petals unfolding like tiny rays of sunshine.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way. You are everything, Aria. You are the standard." "I love you," she said. "I never stopped. Even when I was furious with you. Even when I was packing my bag." "I love you too," I said. "I never stopped either. I just... lost the signal for a minute." She laughed, a wet, shaky sound. "You and your tech metaphors." "It's my love language," I teased gently. We sat there for a long time, just holding each other. The silence wasn't heavy anymore. It was peaceful. It was the silence of a storm that had finally passed.

"When someone tells me their husband isn't as loving anymore... my first question wouldn't be 'What did he stop giving you?'" She shook her head. "My first question would be... 'What happened between both of you?'" Silence. "Because marriage isn't only about receiving. It's also about giving." She met Jovi's eyes. "Sometimes giving means listening. It means apologizing first even we didn't feel like we did something wrong. And sometimes it means learning to love someone in the way they understand." She smiled and took a glance of her reflection. "We all need love. We all have different love language. Our love doesn't always look the same. Some people need words. Some people need time. Some n

he said and I laughed. "Sure, well. The first time I realized I was in love with Theo was when I would get heavily jealous for him just being with his wife even though I knew what sort of relationship we were in, and I always wanted him around me, in the moment with me, you know just being together at that time was my love language, it still is now but I now I just want to consume him as a whole, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet," I said and he banged and on the counter surprising me.

"Maybe, since the very beginning" "I should have known already. You have been so clingy", I can't help laughing against his chest. "Yeah. So, you aren't mad at me for this?" he mutters. "Mad at you for what? For loving me or confessing to me?" I ask. "Maybe, both! I don't wanna be that clingy", he scoffs. "And what if I say I love the clinginess", I say and his breathing gets faster. "I love that you show it. Your love language is expressing and I can't tell you how much I love the way you just say it all, do it all"

Love. END

he says with a genuine smile and grabs me for a hug, “I love that you’re putting in an effort, I promise it’s going to pay off.” Whenever he says that, it means he’s going to find a way to spend money on me. I truly can’t hate him; that’s his love language. He might be shit in a lot of ways, but he tries his best to show appreciation with money, and I used to love his gifts. I probably still will.

Eu te amo. Now that’s French, Spanish, German, Italian, Greek, Hindi, Korean, Arabic, Japanese, and Portuguese. I know, it’s a lot. I kept thinking if I said it in enough languages, it would find a way through the walls she’d built. Like love could be a battering ram if I translated it right. But none of anything and everything I said got through to her. And it’s all my fault. The word love is a switch. You flip it and rooms tilt. Home taught me that. Then Megan taught me the burn rate.

"Cindy, Mitch is a full on 'physical touch' person. It's her primary." "Her primary?" "Yeah, her love language. From 'The Five Love Languages'. We read the teen version in my youth group." I stared at her, befuddled. What the hell was a love language? It sounded like mushy things you wrote in Valentine's Day cards. "You seriously don't know? Go look it up."