You don’t fall in love. You spiral deliriously down into it, until you don’t know where you end and he begins, until you’re so attuned to everything about him that you wake in the middle of the night and realise that the best way to get back to sleep is to time your breathing with his.

You don’t fall in love, you soar to its heady heights, where everything you ever believed, though, felt is irrelevant , and all that counts is his heartbeat against your cheek, his breath in your ear, his voice, soft and seductive in the night.

You don’t fall in love. You slip beneath its waves, drown in its depths, become lost in it.

And all that matters is this feeling. No matter how fleeting. Because you would sacrifice a lifetime of safety for a single second of the thrill of this. Just this.

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