“There is no way you can braid it, mi amor,” Luis says, chuckling as you lean over him in an attempt to braid part of his shaggy hair. Work, life, mistakes, all of it has caused his hair to become brittle and unkempt. You call it windswept, bless your heart, but Luis knows he’s been a bit of a walking wreck for a while now. The fact that you’ve stayed with him for this long is nothing short of a miracle.

Luis reaches up to his lips for his cigarette, realizing late that he doesn’t have one. Your small house is too nice and too sweet for him to be smoking in it. He’d feel bad giving into his vices with you so close. Luis curves his arm around your waist instead, giving you a toothy grin. “How many days has it been now since I last had a smoke? That calls for celebration, no?”