"I love you."
Such a word is easy to say, but difficult to mean.
It can mean many things. I love you as a lover. I love you as a friend. I love you as a brother.
"I love you. I mean it."
People who say that rarely mean it.
We are meant to love people, and there is always someone else to love. Love is an emotion. An emotion could not be restrained control, loyalty, or denial.
Zhe Chouhen knows that very well. He doesn't want to love anyone. He really doesn't.
But when he sleeps at night, he cannot stop thinking about that person. Though he shouldn't he still fell in love anyway.
Those blue eyes. Those curly, blonde hair, that is softer than feathers and cotton to touch.
He couldn't get enough of them. He keeps searching for them, and yet, there is doubt in his mind still...
Does all this count as love?