They don't know what love is.

They talk about it for hours. Sometimes they are eloquent, drawing on images and words and carefully etched thoughts. Sometimes they struggle, trying to find the right sounds for something within them that is nothing more than a shadow, a smudge, the lingering impression of an unknown colour.

Does it even matter?

That's the question that scares them the most.

Long drawn out days, with sunlight grazing their shoulders, hands clasped together. There is laughter, sometimes harsh words, sometimes a soft nip on a ear, sometimes a mouth exploring secret crevices unknown to everyone who lives outside their honey tinted world. There is friendship, companionship, and sometimes - understanding. It's the understanding they appreciate the most because is there really anything more wonderful than being able to articulate thoughts and feelings that have long been asleep, or perhaps in hiding, and watch them travel through a smooth stream to be grasped, wholly and completely, by another human hand.

It should be love, they think. Because if this isn't love, whatever this is, then there is no such thing.

But what happens when the time comes to leave the room? One day, the walls soaked with honey will lose their warm golden glow, and will begin to oppress them until they are covered from head to toe in unbearable sticky sweetness. And then they will leave, with a firm shake of their hands, or a soft kiss for old times sake, and maybe hitch a lift from someone on the highway and depart in two different directions, leaving the little room to crumble.

That's the question that bothers them. Eventually their room, like their love, will fall, and as time and distance dims their memory, they will look back and wonder if it ever existed in the first place.

What scares them is not that this moment - a moment of hands, hips, low voices, and new thoughts - won't last forever. What scares them is this: that years from now, they will look back and smile wisely, indulgently, dismissively, at the remains of something they once thought was love, though by then they will know better. 

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