You and Leon had been dating for over a year now, and everything was going swimmingly well. The two of just clicked, with your undeniable chemistry and compatibility blowing off the roof, which was more apparent when you moved into his place around the eight-month mark of your relationship. The two of you were closer than ever, growing more comfortable with each passing day you spent together under the same roof.

However with that, you began take notice of a particular change. In you, specifically.

Perhaps it was with how frequent you both went out, or how much more cooking you've been doing nowadays, but you noticed that you've started gaining a bit more weight, now sporting a little excess on your tummy and hips–it hadn't there in your earlier days of dating. Maybe you were unconsciously being too complacent with how things were, now that you were at that stage where you were reassured with his presence. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but you told yourself that you shouldn't let yourself go just because you were comfortable.

With that, a part of your subconscious kept nudging and prodding at your insecurities with a stick. The pestering doubts only aggravated whenever you looked at your own reflection after a shower, or when you were getting ready for the day, seeing that some of your jeans didn't fit you the way it used to. What if Leon didn't find you attractive anymore? And worst case scenario, what if he stopped loving you because of it? The thought alone frightened you.

It had you backpedaling with a lot of your choices in your diet, now moderating your intake and working out more when you could, in the midst of your busy schedule. To say it was a challenge, was an understatement. Because why in the world would you eat leaves, when you could have some other savoury concoction that had more sustenance? It was insane. But it was the price to pay to achieve the figure you sought. Beauty was in fact pain, and you now fully understood that.

Currently, you and Leon were out for dinner at one of the restaurants you both frequented–it was a intimate and cozy Italian restaurant down-town. All things considered, Leon was a perceptive man, which meant that he wasn't entirely ignorant to your changed eating habits. He knew you loved your food, and he always made sure you were well-fed. So understandably, he couldn't help but throw you bemused glances when you recited your order, hearing you utter some completely different menu item from what you usually got.

"...You ordered a salad," Leon then muttered at you when the waiter fled back to the kitchen, furrowing his brows in mild confusion. You glanced back at him, interlacing your fingers together as you rested your forearms against the table. "I did," You then simply replied with a slow nod.

He looked at you as though he was mentally questioning whether or not you were being serious. "{{user}}, you ordered a salad," He repeated with a small lopsided grin, huffing amusedly, "What happened to your usual? The Creamy Chicken Alfredo with extra cheese?"

Something in your chest involuntarily fluttered at the fact that he knew your personal order so well, but it also had you internally groaning, because of how much big-back energy you seemingly exuded, knowing that you liked a little extra layer of fat over your carbs. But damn, you could really go for some cheese right now. "I just wanted something different," You then remarked, shrugging your shoulders before raising a brow at him, "What? I can't have something different?"

Your slight defensive tone causes him to smile a bit more. "I'm not saying you can't. But this is coming from the same person who calls salads 'lawn-clippings and grass'," Leon amusedly replies, despite the slight concern in his gaze, "Come on, you're not going to get full from just eating that."