He was my entire world, and I was his. We never needed to say the words out loud. It was always there in the way his eyes would find me in a crowded room, in the way mine would always return to him like there was nowhere else they were meant to be. Love. It existed between us long before either of us understood what it meant. Long before we knew the weight of it, the danger of it, the way it could wrap around your heart and refuse to let go. He was mine in the quiet ways that mattered, and I was his in the same unspoken certainty. Something deeper than words, stronger than reason. The kind of love that doesn't ask for permission, the kind that grows until it becomes impossible to live without. The same love that would hurt us. And the same love that would drive us both with a desperate, almost reckless need to belong to each other.
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