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By the time the clock strikes twelve, the candles are burning low, and the previous party chatter has boiled down to a few sleepy murmurs. His Majesty has already retired, so why shouldn’t they? Gathering their skirts, straightening their cravats, and finishing the last of the wine, the noble people of Hyrule file out of the ballroom one by one.
It’s a slow procession. Some of the ladies of the court, the ones who flatter her in her presence but speak ill of her behind her back, come up to wish her a good evening. “What a wonderful party!” They exclaim boisterously. Their husbands don’t look too amused. “Give His Majesty our regards,” and the Princess murmurs a simple, “I will,” in response.
Then come the noblemen, at the urging of their wives, to kiss her hand and wish her a good evening. “Always a delight, Princess Zelda,” one senile looking noble drawls to her. He looks completely inebriated, if not half dead. She has to stifle a laugh as his much younger wife ushers him away.
Then come the knights. Your highness this, your highness that. They’re so very deferential. All kneeling and titles and valor. Loyalty is present in their posture, sure; she knows they will gladly die for her should the need arise. But it wouldn’t be for her- not truly. It would be because they were ordered to, or because they might have their name written in a history book someday. Not true dedication.
With the knights go the last of the party goers. They wave drunkenly, too tired to wish her a pleasant night. The room is empty now, quiet. It would be too quiet if it weren’t for the remnants of chatter floating down the hall, or the servants coming to clear the plates away. One young servant has a candle snuffer, and he begins to make his rounds. One by one, the ornate candelabras go out, and the room is suddenly very dark.
And Link’s looking at her.
This should not come as a surprise. The fact that he’s still in the room after everyone has gone. The fact that he’s looking at her. He’s always looking at her. It is his duty after all. But it’s different, because it’s dark, and no one is paying attention to her anymore. They’re alone.
She can see his eyes through the increasing darkness of the room. Sheikah lights, she thinks, because of the blue of them, and because of the way they glow. She thought that in the desert, too. It was evening then, the sun just beginning to set. And he had looked at her, in the increasing dark, when they were alone. She had been so scared. “Are you alright?” He had asked. And she thought, Sheikah lights. His eyes are like Sheikah lights.
She studies the twin lights, here, now, in the ballroom. It’s fitting, really. She has a penchant for ancient technology. So she examines him, like a relic, like a shrine. And he must have seen it in her face, even in the increasing dark. He must have seen the way her brows narrow, the tiny crease that forms between them, knowing that she was studying him. And apparently he finds this amusing, because the corner of his mouth lifts. Smiling that almost-smile. He never gave anyone that almost-smile, that look of Sheikah lights. It’s just for her. That look is meant for her.
Then a servant drops a plate, and a shattering resounds through the ballroom. A woman walks up to the boy who dropped it, and cuffs him on the head. “Stupid boy! Going and ruining His Majesty’s fine china!” It’s fine, Zelda almost wants to call out. We have plenty of others. But she can’t seem to breathe, because the lights are gone. His eyes are still there, yes, just as they always are. Trained on her, watching her every move, making sure she’s safe. But not the lights. Not the almost-smile. Not the look meant just for her.
Come back, she wills it. It doesn’t. “It’s getting late, Princess,” Link says as he walks up to her. “Shall we-”
“Yes,” She interrupts, because suddenly she’s frustrated. Frustrated with the servant for breaking the moment, frustrated with the lights for leaving her, frustrated with herself. They walk through the halls, his hand hovering just above the small of her back. She can’t stop thinking about it. So she doesn’t. She plays it over and over and over again. Sheikah lights. His eyes are like Sheikah lights.
~One look, dark room. Meant just for you. Time moved too fast. You play it back.~
“No frogs,” He demands.
“No frogs,” She agrees.
They’re at the same spot as yesterday, beneath the tree on the Irch plain. It’s just as sunny as it was the day before, though a bit more windy. Link had made her take a coat, despite her protests.
“If I have to wear one, then you have to as well.” She had crossed her arms, and he had rolled his eyes, and she had almost gawked at him. He was getting so bold as of late. But he disappeared back into the barracks, returning with a worn out coat around his shoulders. It was a bit too short in the sleeves, and there was a tear at the elbow. One of the buttons was missing. She reached out and rubbed the empty spot of fabric between her index finger and thumb.
“You need a new coat,” Zelda remarked, eyes still transfixed on where that missing button should be. He had simply shrugged.
“Not all of us can afford the fine trimmings of royalty.”
Now that was bold. She could barely stifle a smile. “Trimmings? What am I, a Yuletide tree?”
He laughed. It sounded so warm. “Yes, a great big tree. With ornaments and a star at the top.” He reached out, finger just ghosting along the top of her head. Then he looked at her, really looked. That same almost-smile. Sheikah lights.
Now she’s sitting under the tree, just like yesterday, trying to focus on her book. He’s pacing- the poor boy never could keep still. He’s looking at the flowers she had examined yesterday. He stops at the Silent Princess; still there, still radiant. He kneels, and traces a petal with his finger. Infinitely gentle, infinitely sweet. His hair is like gold in the sunlight. She can’t look away.
So that’s that then, she thinks with a shaky breath. It’s not really proof, per se, not in the scientific sense. She should be upset with herself for that. She’s always so careful, so reasoning, so analytical. You can’t determine the results of an experiment without sound proof. But she doesn’t need proof, if this was even an experiment in the first place. The way her heart flutters at the sight of his hair in the sunlight is enough. It’s terrifying. It’s wrong. It’s perfect.
~ Buttons on a coat, light-hearted joke. No proof, not much. But you saw enough. ~
“The weather's nice,” he remarked.
“Yes,” She murmured in response. “I hope it’s not too cold tonight.” They’re sharing his horse; hers had taken a nasty fall the other day and broke its leg. He sits behind her, arms around her midsection gripping the reins. It takes all her effort to keep her eyes on the road. Not look at those hands so close to her body.
“You’ll do amazing, Princess.” His voice was almost a whisper. It had sent a thrill down her spine, a tingle of anticipation. And for just a moment, she allowed herself to believe him.
Foolish girl.
Her tears have long since passed, as has her risk of hypothermia. Link’s coat, the one with the missing button, is around her shoulders. She stares into the heart of the fire he’s built, willing herself not to look at the Goddess statue, not launch into another tearful tirade. Just another failure, she thinks. Father will be furious.
“Do you need anything?” He asks, fiddling through his pack. “Food, blankets, a drink… I have coffee.”
“Coffee?” She asks. “It’s nearly midnight.”
He shrugs. “I don’t think either of us will be getting much sleep tonight.”
She shifts uncomfortably. He does have a point, though. “I’ve actually never tried it.”
“It’s good.” So she accepts.
He boils some spring water in a small pot, filters the grounds, and pours the warm black drink into two waiting cups. He hands her one, and moves to sit next to her. He’s close, but not too close. Still quite close, though. She tries not to think about it, savoring the rich aroma of the drink in her hands.
Upon her first sip, it’s difficult not to spit the drink back into the cup. She swallows it with great difficulty, scrunching up her nose and smacking her lips. Link laughs, and Gods it almost makes drinking that awful liquid worth it.
“Don’t like it?” He remarks, taking a sip of his cup.
“It’s bitter,” She states.
He reaches for his pack, rummaging through once more. “Hold on… I’ve got some cream.”
She snorts. “You really are prepared for anything, aren’t you?”
“Anything to keep a picky Princess happy.” She kicks his leg, and he smirks.
The cream makes it tolerable. They sit in silence, drinking their coffee. He finishes before her, but doesn’t try to make small talk as he did on the journey to the Spring. Before, it had been a means of distracting her. Now, it would be pointless. He sighs, rolling his neck up, eyes skyward.
She keeps her eyes on the fire. Failure. The word floats in her mind. Failure. It’s everywhere; in the way the flames dance, in the way the light reflects off her necklace. Failure, failure, failure.
Link inhales a sharp, shocked sound through his nose. “Look up,” He whispers fervently. She glances at his face, noticing the way both fire and moonlight dance in his hair. His eyes glow with a kind of wonder. Sheikah lights. She looks up.
And their shoulders brush.
It’s brief, but they both jump at the contact. Her mind is racing. When did he get that close? Should I be touching him? But then all she can do is marvel at the sky, and the long streaks of white flying across it.
A meteor shower! How could she forget? It was the first Hyrule had seen in nearly a decade. She remembers… She had been six, staying up late with her Mother. The Queen was sick then, but she had insisted on seeing it. “I’ve been waiting for this for years,” She had told Zelda’s father. “I want to watch it with my little bird.” So they did, together. And for the first time in many months, the Queen’s constant coughs had ceased, the pain in her chest faded, and the dullness in her eyes gave way to childish wonder. Zelda had loved the meteors, but she had loved seeing her mother happy more. She died just a few days later.
But now… Now she was here, in the wilderness of Akkala… with Link. The sky is large and empty, glowing with promise and beauty. Hope. It’s a curious feeling.
Their shoulders are touching again, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither does she. They keep their faces trained on the sky, lips parted, eyes wide. And there’s something electric in the air. Something final. That same thought she had had on the Irch plain, beneath the tree. So that’s that then. No proof. Not real proof, at least. But it was enough.
~ Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight. The light reflects the chain on your neck. He says, ‘Look up’, and your shoulders brush. No proof, one touch. But you felt enough. ~
He said they wouldn’t get sleep that night. But they did. Her, curled up against his shoulder, him, with an arm around her waist. And there, in his arms at the Spring of Power, she lets herself dream.
It’s morning. She’s in his house. How she is sure it is his house, she doesn’t know. Light filters lazily through the windows, and the smell of burnt toast drifts up from the kitchen. Groaning, she rises from his bed, pulling one of his spare shirts over her body. It’s oversized, and hangs just past her thighs.
“Morning,” She mumbles, descending from the loft. He’s scraping frantically at the cooking pan, trying to dispose of the evidence of his failed Sunday breakfast.
He smiles sheepishly. “I’ll… make something else.”
She laughs, and kisses his brow. So easy, so free. “You do that.”
He makes omelettes. They sit on opposite sides of the table, something unspoken hanging between them. Something grown up. Zelda, the real Zelda, shudders at the thought. Whether it’s from fear or desire, she doesn’t know.
“You can keep that,” he says, nodding to the shirt she’s wearing. “Looks better on you.”
She blushes, and takes another bite of her breakfast. Chews, swallows, takes a sip of water. “Thank you. And… And you…” She twirls her fork nervously.
He smiles- the same almost-smile, Sheikah lights- and presses a finger to his lips. “No one needs to know. You have my word, Princess.”
The Zelda’s, for it’s both of them now, the real and imaginary, relax. Whatever secret he’s promising to keep… It means something. Something for both of them. She feels so warm. So safe. And slowly, she feels her mind slipping. That constant need to be in control, to know what’s coming next, to never forget what will happen if she fails… they all just dissipate. Not permanently. They’ll be back, just as they always are. But for now, here in his home, it’s warm. It’s safe. He’s here.
And she’s back in his arms, with sunrise slowly creeping over the Spring.
He’s not awake yet, and she knows she should move. Pull away, tuck herself in a blanket, act like nothing happened. But she doesn’t. Because in his arms, it’s warm. It’s safe. He could keep this secret, if she asked him to. So she snuggles up closer to him, drifting back into the peace of her dream.
~ Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt, he keeps his word. And for once you let go of your fears and your ghosts. One step, not much. But it said enough. ~
In the ensuing weeks, it became difficult to tell whether her dreams were mimicking reality or if reality was mimicking her dreams. For instance: She took a walk with him down a paved garden path one day, venting about her father, her prayers, and… everything really.
“It’s just so unfair!” She cried, slamming her fists against her dress. “He takes away my studies, the one thing that brings me joy, and yet demands that I thank the Goddess for her blessings. What blessings? What do I have to be grateful for?”
She knew she sounded pathetic. She knew she was being whiny. But her seventeenth birthday was only a fortnight away and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful was going to happen. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the Spring of Wisdom would result in another failure, just as the other two had.
But then Link had taken her hand, grasping it firmly in both of his. “Princess,” he had said, eyes locked on hers. “I know how difficult this is for you. This burden… no one should have to bear it. No one should have to suffer this much. Especially not someone as deserving as you.” There was such strong conviction in his tone, such devotion. It left her breathless. “But please- if there is anything I can do to help you, let me. I can’t… I can’t stand to see you unhappy.” Then he stepped back, releasing her hand. He looked almost shy.
Later that night, in her bed, she dreams of him. He says the same things, holds her hand in the same way- but this time, he doesn’t step away. He cups her face, gives her that almost-smile, and kisses her right there on the paved garden path. And he was warm. So, so warm.
Or, another time: They were bickering about something. She was on edge, her birthday was a week away. He was grumpy, maybe he hadn’t eaten in a while. Either way, she made some snide remark, and because he was growing bolder with her by the day, he had responded with another, until it escalated into a full on screaming match.
“Why don’t you talk?” She had accused.
“What- I do! To you!” He had defended.
“Not to anyone else!” She retorted, smug. “What, you haven’t got any friends?”
He snorted. “Do you?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Gods, he was infuriating. Maybe she had been on to something, hating him when they first met. “Shut up!” She shouted childishly.
He rolled his eyes. “Well excuse me, Princess. I thought you wanted me to talk.” Then he cried out, because she hurled a book at his face. Tears stinging at her eyes, she had fled down the corridor, chased by his shouts of “How mature!”
It was stupid. They both knew it was stupid. But she was stubborn, and so was he. So they avoided each other for the rest of the evening, and that night when Zelda went to bed, she dreamt of Link.
They were fighting again. Something about a broken window, who’s fault it was. She threw another book at his face, and fled to the pond by his house. About a quarter of an hour passed before he came out, sitting beside her.
“You threw a book at my face,” He remarked.
“You made fun of me,” She stated.
He nodded, mulling it over. “Call it even?”
She looks at him. There’s something deep in their eyes, beneath the petty pride, beneath the childish desire to win. Something like respect. Something warm.
She smiled. “Okay.”
And he kissed her.
The next day, she woke early, and hurried to the kitchens in her nightgown. When Link appeared at her door an hour later to wake her up, he was met with a basketful of muffins, and one sheepish looking Princess.
“Call it even?” She had asked.
He picked up one muffin, examined it, then gulped it down in one breath. “We’re good,” He mumbled around his food. She laughed, and he embraced her. It wasn’t the same as the kiss from her dream, but it was electrifying nonetheless.
The last week flies by, and it’s suddenly the day before her seventeenth birthday. They’d spent the evening at Sanidin Park, watching the sunset over the ominous peak of Mount Lanayru. Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow Hylia would either grant her the one thing she had wanted for her whole life, or leave her hopeless and empty like before.
A soft snore interrupts her unsavory thoughts, and she barely manages to stifle her giggle. Link’s out cold on the hard ground of the park, the last light of the sun tangling in his hair.
"I suppose we can stay a little while longer,” He told her earlier. “But we should head back before it gets too late. You need rest.”
Apparently he needed sleep more than she did, as he curled up on the floor not five minutes later. Darkness is fast approaching over the kingdom of Hyrule, but Zelda can’t bring herself to care. She’s with him, in the wild, safe from the impending doom of her destiny. Please make this day last a little longer.
She stretches it out for as long she’s able, watching until the sunset fades to purple on the horizon. Sighing, she moves forward, meaning to wake up Link, but he’s already sitting up. When did he wake up? How did she not hear or see him? She must be tired too.
“Come on, sleepyhead,” She chides, a small attempt at humor. “Time to head back.”
“Right,” He says, almost muttering. He’s half facing her, but he’s not looking at her. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, shuts it, then shakes his head.
Now he has her attention. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing… I just…” He’s hesitating. He’s nervous. Link doesn’t get nervous. Why would he be nervous? Unless he-
“Zelda,” he says, and it steals all the breath from her lungs. It was the first time he’s ever said her name. And now he’s standing, looking at her, taking her hand, making her blush, his eyes turned to Sheikah lights in the night sky.
“You’re…” He pauses. Takes a deep breath. Decides something.
“You’re my best friend.”
It shouldn’t affect her in the way that it does. To anyone else, it would be a sweet sentiment. A common statement shared between friends.
To Zelda, it is everything. It is a life’s worth of failure and rejection being brushed away by the hands of a boy who chews with his mouth open. It’s a joke that they laugh a little too long at, because humor is so hard for them to find. It’s a safe statement made with safe words that translates into something forbidden and wrong and wonderful.
In his eyes, those wonderful eyes, everything she has felt and wanted and longed for is reflected.
She doesn’t realize she’s crying until he brushes her tears away. Without thinking, her hand flies to his wrist, stilling his movements. Keeping him tied to her.
“And you are mine.” She whispers it like a prayer because it might as well be. That could be sacrilege. Perhaps thinking it will delay the awakening of her powers even more. She doesn’t care.
Link takes her hand in his with a tenderness she doesn’t deserve, and places an unrepentant kiss on it. When her breathing hitches, he releases her, striding quickly to his horse.
Back to their roles it is then.
~ You kiss on sidewalks, you fight and you talk. One night he wakes, strange look on his face. Pauses, then says, ‘You're my best friend’. And you knew what it was. He is in love. ~
She thought he would lead her straight back to the castle. He doesn’t.
They stop in the Nima plain so he can point to Satori Mountain. “My father took me hunting there once when I was seven. Didn’t get much done though; I was insistent on finding the Lord of the Mountain.”
Zelda’s eyes dance. “Did you?”
“No,” He chuckles. He looks at her, a dreamy smile on his face. “Maybe one day.”
“Yes,” She agrees, smiling with him. “One day.”
By the time they reach the Jeddo Bridge they’ve landed on the topic of dancing. “What do you mean, ‘you can’t dance’?” Zelda accuses. “You’re always at the palace balls!”
“I’m on duty at the palace balls,” He laughs, “Not dancing.”
“But you’re the hero!” She exclaims. “Surely after you’ve slain the Calamity all the maidens will wish to have a dance with you.” Link looks up at her then, confusion in his eyes. It slowly dawns upon her that that was the first time she’s mentioned what will happen after the Great Calamity in a positive manner. She tries not to dwell on it.
He shrugs. “I don’t know, I suppose I’ll tell them I’m on duty.”
“What if I asked you for a dance?” The words escape before she can think through them. Strangely, she doesn’t regret saying it.
Link’s blush burns even through the darkness of the night. “Then I’d say yes.”
Her heart races wildly, but she doesn’t let it stop her. “Well then,” She says, slowing her horse to a halt, “I believe a dancing lesson is in order. I can’t have you leading a dance with the Princess of Hyrule while stepping all over her toes in front of the entire court.”
He rolls his eyes, but stops his horse nonetheless.
They start with what Zelda believes to be a basic waltz, though Link doesn’t appear to agree. “Listen to the tempo in your head,” She tries to explain. “One, two, three, one, two, three.”
“I can’t hear anything,” Link says. “You should sing it for me.”
Zelda laughs. “Never in a million years.”
“Very well then,” Link says, standing up straight, his hand tightening on her waist. “Guess it’s up to me.” She opens her mouth to ask him what he means, but then she’s falling, flying, as he spins her around.
He’s singing, rather, he’s screeching the most overdone waltz in all of Hyrule’s history, “The Blue Regencia”. She knows she should be embarrassed by his theatrics, or at least scold him for not listening to her, but all she can do is laugh. Losing all motivation to stick to the steps ingrained within her memory, she spins along with him, screeching the melody into the night.
After their laughter had died down and they’d returned to their horses, she stopped him once more in the Breach of Demise.
“What will you do? When this is all over, I mean.” There it was again; the mention of a life after the Calamity. For some reason, the idea was becoming more plausible to her.
He looks at her curiously once more, but says nothing of it. “I’m not sure. Probably go back to being a regular Knight; or work in the Royal Guard.” He steals a glance her way. “If you’d have me.”
She smiles. “Always,” and is pleased when his ears pinken and he turns away.
A thought comes to her mind. “I’m sure my father will promote you once the Calamity is over,” She says. “He might even grant you a title.” Her tone is breezy, but her heart is anything but. She does not miss the way his ears perk, the way his back straightens. It makes her chest feel tight. This does not stop her.
“Maybe you’ll have to have an office. You know, one of the regal ones in Castle Town? All the Lords take care of their business there.”
He snorts. “Sure. Me, with an office. Seems unlikely.”
“You never know,” Zelda sighs, laughter in her voice. “Perhaps there is a secret gentleman hiding within you.”
He laughs again, redirecting his attention to the road. Zelda shakes her head, pushing the silly thought away. But she can’t help but imagine…
He’d have bookshelves against one wall. All recommended to him by her, of course. Mostly for decoration, but also for her to have something to read when she visits him there. He’d probably want weapon displays there as well; Link once told her about a ‘legendary’ soup ladle he used to kill six bokoblins. “Not even a dent in the handle,” He had stated with pride. He’d have a desk, though it probably wouldn’t be decorated with much besides paper and some ink. She’d bring him flowers to brighten it up. Perhaps he’d have a map of Hyrule behind his desk, or a layout of the Castle grounds. Maybe he’d have a picture on his desk. Normally, Lords would keep small portraits of their wives or families in their offices. She pictures one on Link’s non-existent desk; a small mahogany frame carved with great attention to detail. Colors that pop off the canvas and draw the eye.
In her mind, it’s a portrait of her.
They cross the Carok Bridge, Mount Gustaf to their right. A soft breeze blows over the mountain beside them, sending a shiver down Zelda’s spine. Or perhaps it’s just the realization that Castle Town is now in view, and this night will soon come to an end. Yes, she thinks. Probably the latter.
It takes her a moment longer than it should to realize that Link’s horse has stopped. “Princess,” he calls to her, pointing to a small grove of trees, “Look.”
She turns her head to find two faint blue lights shining beneath the cover of a tree. “Oh!” She exclaims, jumping from her horse with renewed vigor, “Silent Princesses!”
Link meets her there, kneeling on the dirt path to examine the flowers more closely. She’s always loved the way they glow in the night, a soft yet distinct shine. Not overpowering anyone, not forcing their way into the sun. Merely standing tall, even in the wake of darkness.
“It’s rare to find two of them together,” Zelda says, delicately tracing the stem. “And they’re both in such wonderful condition! I wonder how they manage here, on their own.”
“They’re not alone,” Link whispers. His hand reaches out, a finger lightly resting on a petal close to her own. “They have each other.”
Part of Zelda wants to laugh. Because it’s ridiculous, really. Here she is, kneeling over some flowers with a boy who just recited a line that clearly belongs in a romance novel. Part of Zelda wants to roll her eyes, say something mocking in response, and walk away. After all, this had never been her. Not even when she was a child. Her mother would read her stories of Princes and Princesses, maidens and heroes. They never interested her. Science, history, technology; those were all real. Love was just another fairytale.
She lets that part of her dissipate. It died long ago, back in the sands outside Kara Kara Bazaar, when he looked at her with the most worry and care she’s ever seen. Even before that it was weakening. All the way back to when he knelt before her reluctant hand, and she couldn’t help but stare at the way the sun caught in his hair. Back then it frustrated her. Now it’s everything.
So this is why they did it, Zelda thinks to herself. They fought wars over it. They wrote songs, poems, and plays. People have spent their entire lives trying to put… this into words. She smiles at the thought. Now she knows it firsthand; it’s impossible. There are no words for this.
She tries anyway. “Yes,” she smiles, taking his hand. “They have each other.”
~ And so it goes. You two are dancing in a snow globe, round' and round'. And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown. And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars, and why I've spent my whole life trying to put it into words. ~
They mount their horses and head into town. They say nothing else. She knows they don’t need to; she can still hear her name on his tongue echoing throughout the silence.
They pass through the Castle Town streets, the palace looming before them. She no longer fears it. The ghost of his touch on her hand, her cheek, is still with her. She can still feel him.
The streetlights have long since burnt out, everyone in the city having gone to bed. She doesn’t need them. Link’s eyes burn like Sheikah lights, and for the first time she believes that hers must burn too. They shine together.
He helps her off her horse, taking her hand. She blushes. He leads her back through the castle corridors, no longer behind her, but beside her. When they reach her room, she opens the door, murmuring a simple ‘goodnight’ to him. He nods in return. She steps in, and shuts the door behind her.
She stands there for a moment, considering, waiting. There are no sounds of footsteps. Link is still there, outside her door. If she listens close enough, feels with her memory, closes her eyes; she can almost make out his voice. It fills her with a warmth she never wants to leave, and a happiness that is so brilliant it hurts.
So she turns into the wood of the doorframe, daring to utter what he already knows.
“Link?”
“Yes?”
"I love you.”
~ You can hear it in the silence. You can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out. You are in love. True love. ~