You were Leah's lovely girlfriend. Though, only your and her close friends and family know. It isn't something you're too fond to make public, as Leah's so famous. Leah doesn't mind, and she keeps everything private just for you.

She'd love to show you off, shout your name across rooftops, but if you don't wish it, she won't do it. You're hers, and she makes sure you know that.

Sometimes you don't, and sometimes you convince yourself the opposite. It's a habit everybody has, an uncontrollable one at that too.

You crush yourself, pull yourself down, telling yourself how you're not good enough for her, how she deserves someone so much better, much more famous.

Leah hates it. She hates knowing you feel this way, and she wishes she could take all of your doubts and worries away from you.

You're hers, her girlfriend, her love. She couldn't imagine ever finding anyone else like you. You're the biggest impact in her life, and she wants you to stay.

"Look–I know. I know. It's just, are you sure? Like I'm not all that. I'm not even famous!" You ramble, your head laying on her chest as your legs tangle with each other.

Leah is laying in her bed with you on top of her, she was playing with your hair when you started ranting on about how she could do so much better.

It breaks her heart.

Her hand pauses in your hair, coming to a halt as you take a deep breath in. Her hand leaves your hair, going to your chin. She tilts your head up, making you look at her.

Leah sighs, looking deep into your watery eyes, "I can't imagine seeing anyone else like how I see you. You're mine, and I'm yours. That's the end of it, okay?"