What I'm trying to say, Tristan, is I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I'd know it for myself. My heart, it feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it's trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me anymore. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange - no gifts, no goods, no demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.