His love for history; her love for the modern age. His non-stop talking and her quiet observations. Her love for fashion and his carelessness reflected in his wardrobe. Their personalities couldn't be more different, but, they could, also, not blend in more perfectly. They both shared an unconditional love for literature. They both had a true passion for music. While, it’s true, that he argued with her when she would pretend to listen to his endless rambles about past battles and victories already celebrated time and time again; and she with him over the same shirt he would wear every damn day, their love never wavered. Their arguments never had a winner nor a loser and they didn’t have to because, sure enough, it would soon happen again. They would then discuss recently finished books and newly discovered bands. Then, soon enough, she would absentmindedly stop listening and they would be at it again, but he secretly loved it. He loved the idea of her making up strange new worlds in her head even if it meant having to pointlessly recount old tales of his ancestors. He would, then, stay up at night wondering what new worlds and strange creature she had created. She, too, secretly loved that old shirt. It was his, it was his scent, and it was a part of him. That’s what their love consisted of, sharing their passion and secretly enjoying their flaws.