herr_bookman | OOM: What is love? Baby, don't hurt me

Autor finally thinks he knows what love is.

Maybe. He'd asked Bonnie, Jay, and Rae, studied the great classics of history, and even combed through the memories displayed in his rememberizer to figure out how often he said 'love' and what the context was.

To his chagrin, he found out that he'd been using the word more and more flippantly of late, and frequently. Autor had said love over two hundred times in the time that he'd been to the bar, and only a handful of those in a proper manner, to another person about them.

Karkat was right, Autor thinks ruefully. Love is a dumb human word that means a different thing to everyone who says it. The boy sighs, and doodles a pair of glasses in the margins of his journal. He misses the bugbear, and his primers on alien romances and chick flicks. He was the one who taught Autor how to flirt.

But Autor still wants to find out what love means to him, so that he can discern if he's in love with Miss Kuriyama. He makes a pros and cons list, and reviews his notes and diagrams. He thinks about what he feels like when he's with her--nervous, and elated. His heart beats a little faster, and he feels like he can fly, but he also wants to make her happy.

He can picture them together, taking tea or visiting the greenhouse, holding hands. The thought makes him smile. He can't go a few hours without his thoughts drifting to her. Autor values her opinion, and wants to be a better person because of her. And he's aware of a lot of her flaws--and accepts them. She's certainly aware of his. The boy is comfortable setting boundaries around her, but is also willing to compromise.

He knows in his gut that he loves her. He also knows it's wrong of him. She doesn't want me, the boy thinks, and the weight settles uncomfortably in his stomach. The ache of what could have been beats behind his breastbone in time with his heart. His arms yearn to hold her; his fingers itch to bury themselves in her hair. What should I do?

Autor knows he has to respect her decision. He knows that if he tried to control or manipulate her, especially out of a place of hurt, that it wouldn't be love. That would be taking, not giving--which isn't the kind of person he wants to be.

So he comes up with a couple of conclusions, saying them aloud to set them in stone: "I know I love her because I want to place her welfare above my own. And so I have to honor her choice."

Now that he has said it, the task doesn't feel overwhelming. Really, it sounds simple, condensed. The boy sighs softly. He fell in love quickly; hopefully falling out will be just as easy.

Autor's unsure how to handle her now, what he can do for her. What he should do for her. Or even what he wants. But his business is not Mirai's business, and she seems to want to keep it that way. He chooses to respect her decision, but doesn't know where that leaves him.

But Autor realizes that he can still be her friend. They can still go on carpet rides, watch movies, and eat dinner together. He can still offer that at least. The boy has some wonderful friendships, and that's something he knows how to do.

Will he be happy? He's not sure. But he can make his own happiness.

So the boy smiles--and it's a true smile, small and soft as it is. "I love you," Autor confesses to the empty air, hushed, "but because I love you, I will let you go."