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You Don’t Have to Say It

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“I love you, Nebula,” Tony murmured.

Nebula felt warm and vividly alive every time he told her. She longed to say it back, but she couldn’t make herself form the words. She couldn’t face being that raw, that vulnerable.

“I,” she struggled, “I - am sorry.”

She had failed again; though she loved him like she had never loved anyone, the words wouldn’t come.

Instead she reached out and touched his face.

“Tony,” she spoke with fondness in her voice, “Tony,” she whispered with love that she hoped he could hear.

He nodded and pulled her close.

“I know you do.”