You’re in the middle of reading that new novel when he pokes your shoulder and asks, “What do feelings mean for you?” You blink and want to ask him where that came from but he is looking at you so expectantly that you sigh. And start to tell him.

Happiness is an old cartoon show, the way you made sure to get up early in the morning so that you would never miss it. It is ice-cream packs your dad brings home after dinner and the way he laughs at the mess you make. It is small things which you miss out on everyday and sometimes catch them, when your mom comes home from the office, tired and cranky, but manages to smile and ask you how your day was. Surprise is hands on your eyes, a warm voice you haven’t heard in years whispering in your ear. It is the new book under your pillow when you wake up on Christmas morning. It’s blue shells with sand in them, ones which the kid next door brings for you from the beach because he remembers you like them.

Sadness is a burning feeling behind your eyes, the way you feel you heart drop a little lower with every step. It is unanswered mails and messages and the way you turn around to talk to someone, only to realise they’re no longer there. It’s a green pillow with tear stains and a blanket muffling your sobs, so your family never hears. Anger is an broken toy, because you threw it across the room in frustration. It is hurtful words thrown without a thought and the urge to get that nagging feeling out of your head.

Fear is the sound of footsteps behind you on a lonely road, late at night. It is reaching for somebody’s hand and hoping that they won’t turn away. It is a cold chill down your spine and dread and the way your hands quiver. Anxiety is marks on your palms, nails digging too deep, hoping you won’t fall as you make your way to the stage. Disappointment is forgotten birthdays and feeling your life pass by and having no control over it. The tone of a busy line when you really want to talk to someone.

Loneliness is the desk near the window, eating your lunch alone and feeling like you’re never going to make friends. It is talking to people at a party but realising that no one is really listening, that you would rather be anywhere but here. Hope is a classmate’s smile, when they ask you if you’re well after you weren’t there in class for the last couple of days, because someone notices and someone cares. It is notes in your locker, reminding you to smile and laughing at something silly without a thought.

Friendship is pajamas with paint stains on them and talking on the phone for hours. It is the sound of the doorbell in the middle of the night and a girl with pizza and coke on the other side. Trust is a hand on your back, letting somebody blindfold you, letting somebody get to know you, because I got you and I know you got me too. It is telling somebody that embarrassing story and finally realising how stupid and funny it is.

You stop.

“And love?” He asks, and you take a deep breath.

It is running into your mother’s arms after school and the way your dad teaches you how to drive and how your little brother saves the last piece of candy for you. It is the way your best friend hugs you even when you insist that you’re okay. It is your dog wagging his tail at you even when you forgot to take him out for a walk. It is looking into the mirror and finally seeing how beautiful you are. It is brushing your fingers against his one evening while you’re playing video games and looking at him laughing as he teases you for being distracted and pats your head and you feel your heart in your throat and it hurts and feels amazing at the same time and the way the world shifts yet stays the same. It stuttering as you tell him and the way he kisses you softly, even when his own fingers shake against your cheek. And most of all, it is waking up on the bed with a blanket around you and remembering that you went to sleep on the couch with a book pressed to your cheek, realising that someone is looking out for you everyday even when they don’t need to and it doesn’t matter who it is, it can be anyone, because your life is so beautiful because of such beautiful people in it.

You look at him.

And then, you realise, it is also the way he slowly starts to smile, even if his eyes look like he’s about to cry and reaches for your hand and kisses it so, so softly, as if it hurts him too, because you’re so, so precious and everytime he looks at you, there are words in his eyes that neither of you will ever need to say as long as you keep looking at each other like that.