"Pathetic," he agreed, kissing the top of her head, his hand rubbing soothingly along her spine without giving it much thought.

He wanted very much to be alone with her, in that moment, but the universe always seemed to have other plans.

"I love you," he said again. Before, he'd been making a point. Now, he said it simply because he could. Had he ever said the words before, and meant them? He couldn't recall. It stung to realize that perhaps he hadn't, not even to his mother, whom he did love, quite keenly.

It had been fear holding him back, and even now, the old terror was back. He'd always thought it was about fear of weakness, but that wasn't entirely the truth.

What plagued him, and would continue to plague him, despite the peace that had settled over him when it came to his feelings for her, was this:

What if my love isn't enough.