[Oh, she thinks. Oh. So that's how it is. The ease with which he speaks of the man he loves made her think it was a smooth, perfect romance, where everything fell into place as easily as that, but that isn't the case, is it?

She supposes that probably isn't how real life works at all. Just daydreams. Just made up stories in the dead of night.

So it wasn't easy--but he persevered. And now here he is, trying to put the words out into the open for something that is endlessly precious to him. She admires that, with all of her heart, with all of the feeling of someone who doesn't think she could ever do the same.]

... Now you've said them, and I've witnessed it! So the words can't ever die inside of you.

[But she's only one person, and so--]

But you should definitely let more people witness them too, I think. [Because they're beautiful, those words.

Because they're a treasure not everyone gets to have--and because then, many people will help him keep them alive.]