It was a sensation he believed he never could experience–that collective feeling and mutual sentiment that made two individuals completely bound in genuine oneness. A sentiment they both had shared upon their initial meeting, but one that would only be a modicum compared to what they each held for one another in the present. This was love because it was what made life worth choosing. Because it was more than an aspect of life: it was what made up a life. This love was more than and better than magic because it was easier and always present and without need of manipulation and free of expectations and devoid of chains that sank his soul. It overflowed with endless purpose, never a force that brought incorrigible pain. Love was a second chance at living with every feeling he had at its maximum capability. It was a reminder that he was worth taking that chance on living. It was a reminder he was living at all. It was a once in a universetime’s invitation to the bridge where two souls were to exist completely in sync, baring themselves to the other for as long as time allowed. Love was not perfect or painless or something that brought completion or finality, but that was not its nature. It was a breathing entity with its own heartbeat that possessed its own undying, complex will, and Santhan saw it everywhere he looked, felt it guide his every thought and action, felt it guide him to a superior sense of experiencing. It was once invisible to him, impossible to him, completely beyond reason and reality to ever know it, but now it was practically in everything he experienced, reshaping reality as its whims. Love was true intention and even truer action, and it was now gloriously unveiled to both of them. It was freedom.
Santhan realized he was saying all these words in his head and had yet to say anything to the being that loved him; he had yet to affirm these mutual sentiments back. He willed himself against the intense power of this surging heat that dared him to desire aloud.