Reasoning
My brother asked me once why I loved you. I could not answer.
He asked, sarcastically, if it was your grimness. I could not answer. Your coldness? I could not answer. Your distance? I told him to stop his questioning. How can he understand?
I thought. I considered his grimness, his coldness, his distance. I smiled to think of him. His kindess, his rare laugh, his arms that hold me so tightly and so safely. Only I had those things, and so I told my brother why.
"It doesn't matter why I love him. What matters is that I do."