The day you wore the black ring on your right hand, I stared at mine not knowing if you actually knew what that meant.

You saw me looking and pulled up your sleeve slightly; I remember smiling at the sight of the greysexual and asexual bracelets you were wearing.

"Me too," I'd whispered pointing at the ace one.

I saw the relief on your face and some of the worry melted away and I realised then that this was something that had plagued your mind.

I pulled you into a hug and reminded you that I loved you.

"Thank you," you whispered and I knew that you loved me too. 

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