"I like you."

Sitting crosslegged on the cold floor, he said it with admirable conviction. He looked at me in the eyes, embodying his words with confidence as a small smile tugged his lips.

I've never fallen in love. I'm not arrogant enough to claim to know what love is. It's always described differently in books and it varies from person to person. Love is pain. Passion. Blind. Growing. Suffering.

But love seems worth it. Worth living in. I'm curious, and maybe a little envious.

In that moment, I wanted to ask how it feels. But I thought it would be cruel, like I was asking, "how does it hurt?"