We stop near the water. The wind's ruffling my hair, his hair, the collar of his shirt.

"The person I want to be with, always and ever," I respond, not slowly, but not instantly, either. I don't want him to think that I'm not thinking about these answers, that I'm just trying to reassure him.

...ah, that one's harder. Defining things. Defining things from *his* perspective. I watch his face anxiously. I'm not going to try to make him happy with this, though I very much want him to be happy. I'm going to say what I think. What I feel. "I think naming it is difficult. What you... what you feel about me is up to you, and if you don't want to be with me..."

I swallow uncomfortably, painfully, around the lump in my throat. That's enough of that anyway, enough to show him that I'm aware of the possibility.

"Um. What we are is..."

...in the end, it's not that hard to define. What are we to each other? "In love," I finish softly.