There is only one happiness in life — to love and to be loved.

I'm always there. Wherever he is, I'm never too far behind. I watch him closely, protectively, and when the day ends and everyone knows that it's time to go home, that is the only time I deem it fit to leave him. But when we separate, and when I retire to the privacy of my apartment, I can't help but think about him, and sometimes, dream about him. I never leave him alone; and he, unwittingly, never leaves me alone either. He, too, is always there. And so are his beautiful red eyes, burnt beautifully into my mind.

There is only one happiness in life to love and to be loved.

I've learned that Hiwatari-kun is a very anti-happiness kind of person. Now, many would quickly presume this after one simple encounter with him, but I honestly thought that he would warm up after a while. Apparently, he's also anti-warming up. He doesn't laugh or join in conversation. He sits there, as stoic and cold as an ice sculpture. I have only seen him smile once, and he assures me that I'm the only one who has. Does that mean I'm the one person to whom he would direct a smile towards? Oddly enough, that makes me happy.

There is only one happiness in life to love and to be loved.

My drab, uninteresting apartment is lifeless. Niwa-kun seems to think that too, because one day he appeared at my door with a bucket of paint. But before we could start painting my sad walls, he tripped on my carpet and sent the bucket sailing. It splattered red all over the wall and he quickly rushed out, babbling apologies. I haven't painted over the unsightly splotch. I rather like it; it serves as a reminder to me. It reminds me of his hair and his eyes, and the giant, noticeable, incredibly bright mark he's made in my – lack of – life.

There is only one happiness in life to love and to be loved.

To love the person I love would seem impossible to others. He's always reluctant to voice his love. While I sometimes find myself writing him silly little notes and repeating those three special words like some sort of broken record, he never seems to do the same. Now that would seem downright disheartening to anyone else, but I'm not worried. While he's incredibly bad at expressing his love through words, those looks of utter adoration he always sends me and the way he just holds me are proof enough.

There is only one happiness in life to love and to be loved.

I'm used to living life alone. So imagine how odd it is for me, living life with someone there beside me, holding me, caring for me, simply being there for me. It's something I need to get used to, being loved. It's a strange feeling… An unwelcomed one? No, not at all. …Just strange. To be loved so unconditionally by someone like him makes me uneasy, but at the same time, it placates me beyond any tranquilizer known to man. It's like not breathing, but the lack of breath feels impossibly good. It's like…I don't know. It's just…being loved.

"There is only one happiness in life to love and to be loved."
George Sand (1804 - 1876)