hr: i mean why do you love me? like give me a reason?
hr: can you just please? for meā¦can you just answer the question? please.
hm pauses and looks between both of hr eyes. he searches for an answer to the question hanging so desperately from his lips. a question he canāt find himself to ask again because the one answer he does find in hr eyes is that she needs this. she needs an answer.
hm: you know when i first met you, i think i stared at you for about 10min before you actually looked at me back. you were so present in what you were doing it was like everyone else was a by product or just in the way. and you were there. creating your own world and living in it and loving it. i thought to myself, that girl is so cool. and when you finally did look at me, you smiled. and it felt like i had been given a private invitation to your secret world. and i knew then, just as i know even now, that iād be a fool to deny myself that entry . i may not know what youāre thinking or feeling all the time. and i may not know when my entry might be revokedā
hm: ābut, at least in my eyes, loving you is the least i can do for you letting me in.
hr: so what youāre saying isā¦you just love me⦠for being me?
hr is confused. how could this thing, this concept, this four letter word that has inspired creation and war and pretty much most of our human actions, be so simple?
hm: yes. i love you, simply because you are you.
hr: but there must be more?
hm: i mean sure Newton found a way to explain the exact science behind why gravity existed and how it works, but at the end of the day all he knew is that an apple did fall on his head. and he accepted that, exactly for what it was.