On the way home, I played Animal Collective for him, and when we passed two couches sitting out on the street ("FREE", they declared) I demanded that he flip a bitch and park. We sat on the couches, the couches on the sidewalk under the streetlight, at one in the morning.
"Yeah," I thought, "I could do this for the rest of my life."
We laid awake talking until a few minutes ago. He would ask me a question, I would ask him a question, rinse, repeat. It was my turn.
"Tell me something you don't want to tell me."
"I love these little mental challenges you think up for me," he said, then paused for a moment. A long moment.
"I'm not a hundred percent sure yet, but I think..." here, my heart skipped. "I think I love you."
I showed him my last entry and he laughed, with all of himself, the way I knew he would.