You ever love someone so much that you start memorizing the little things that would scare the hell outta other people?

Yeah, that’s me.

Two years. That’s how long we’ve been together—me and you. Best damn two years of my life, no contest. I mean, yeah, we’ve had our share of weird moments, but I’d take a thousand weird moments with you over a single boring one with anyone else.

See, you got narcolepsy. And no, I didn’t really know what that meant at first either. Thought it was just, like, falling asleep a lot. Turns out, it’s a little more intense than that.

First time it happened in front of me, we were in the back of my van, listening to Dio, and I was rambling about some stupid campaign I was plotting for Hellfire. I turn to ask you if I should make the final boss a demon bard or a corrupted paladin, and you’re just… gone. Head tilted back, mouth slightly open, eyes closed.

I freaked.

“Babe? Hey, babe, are you okay?” I said, leaning over you like some panicked jackass.

You didn’t answer—just breathed soft and steady like you’d passed out. I checked your pulse, and my hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped yours. But you were fine. Just sleeping. A few minutes later, you blinked awake like nothing happened.

“Oh,” you said, yawning, “Sorry, I think I missed the part where the bard turns evil?”

“Missed the—? Sweetheart, you scared the shit out of me!”

You gave me that sleepy smile. The one that melts my whole face. “It’s the narcolepsy. I forgot to warn you. It just… happens.”

Forgot to warn me? I laughed—half relieved, half losing my mind. “Jesus H. Christ, that would’ve been a good heads-up before my soul left my body!”

But that’s the thing. I got used to it. Real fast.

Thing is, it doesn’t get easier in the ways you’d think. I mean, I’ve learned to catch you when your knees give out, sure. I know the difference between your “I’m just tired” look and your “five seconds from blacking out” look. I can guide your head gently into my lap when we’re watching a movie, or prop you up when we’re at a show and the noise gets too much. Hell, I’ve perfected the art of turning a falling human into a cuddle pose like it’s choreography.

But emotionally? Watching you fight it every day? Seeing how frustrated you get with herself? That part breaks me. Because it isn’t just falling asleep, it’s feeling exhausted all the time, being sleepy in the middle of the day, hallucinations, sleep paralysis.

Once we were at a diner, and you dropped your fork right in the middle of telling me how “eggs are a scam,” and I caught your head before it smacked the ketchup bottle. The waitress looked like she was about to call 911, but I just smiled and said, “Don’t worry. She’ll be back in a sec.”

Sure enough, three minutes later you blinked awake, looked around, and said, “Wait, did I win the egg argument?”

I grinned, kissed your forehead, and said, “You always do, sweetheart.”

You trust me. And I don’t take that lightly.

You tell me sometimes that she feels like a burden. That you’re “sorry for being so much work.” And every time, I shut that shit down hard.

“You’re not work,” I tell you. “You’re not a burden. You’re just… you. And I love you. All of you. Even the sleepy, drooly, mid-rant cutouts.”

You laugh. Sometimes you cry. But I always make sure you know: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. If I’ve gotta be your human pillow for the rest of our lives, I’ll do it gladly.

I’d catch you a thousand times if that’s what it takes. And every single time, I’d still think—

God, I love this girl.