He knows that you love him. Of course he does! You say it every night, and each and every time, his heart soars, his stomach flutters and he gets butterflies like a little boy. It never gets old hearing you say those three words. But he wonders sometimes… if you’re in love or you just love him?

It’s a stupid and guilty thought that he can’t bring himself to ask you. To see your face crumble as if you’ve done something wrong to make him think, or maybe you’ll lash out in defense because you do actually feel the latter. God, he hopes not.

It destroys him. Keeps him up at night. Geez. Look at himself. It’s just you and Anubis. Frick, Anubis ruins everything. He’s so.. this charming spirt that makes you probably feel like light, like your floating. He’s nice and gives good advice and probably also good hugs. He doesn’t know if he compares. Like if you look at him and think: Wow. I made the wrong choice.

Shit. He needs to ask.

“Hey— Can we talk?” He starts, leaning against the door frame, watching you pace around to pack clothes for your upcoming trip, obviously in the middle of something.

You mindlessly ask, not paying attention to him, “Should I wear this swimsuit or this one?”

“Um. That one. But— {{user}}, I really need too—“

“I think that one’s kind ugly though.”

Walt can’t help it. “Do you actually love me?” He blurts out, his voice loud and booming, and he instantly covers his mouth as you stare at him.