"You're Beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

"That's kind of you to say."

"...But?"

"But nothing. You're sweet."

"You don't believe it."

"I don't have to believe it. I love the reason you said it."

"It's true."

I sigh. "There's a line somewhere between compliments and patronization."

"Why can't you admit that I could think you're beautiful?"

Silence. "Look at me. Be objective. I'm not beautiful."

"You're not being objective, either. And why should I be objective? I love you."

I feel my brow furrowing. "It's late. I should go home."

"You don't always have to go home. You could stay here."

"I have to feed Atlas."

"Call your roommate. She'll feed him for you."

"I..." I'm close to tears and don't know why. "I have to go."

"No you don't. You don't have to." Softly.

More silence. I look away, fighting the tears.

"But if you want to, you can."

I put on my coat and wrap a scarf around my neck. "I'll call you in the morning. What time's your brother's thing tomorrow?"

"I don't know. Afternoon sometime. We don't have to go if you don't want to."

"It's okay. We'll go. It'll be nice to get out."

"I love you."

I can't meet your eyes. "I love you, too." I open the door and am met by the eager hands of the wind. It's black outside, but the bulb on the porch lights a half-circle of frantic snow. I step into the night and close the door behind me.