Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Do you love me because I am beautiful, or am I beautiful because you love me?
Oscar Hammerstein II

Prologue – I become a part of your past

The Beatles sang that "all you need is love." William Shakespeare once said "love comforteth like sunshine after rain." I have seen love. I have felt it. I have watched love bloom and suffered as it crumbled beneath my feet. I've given love and received it in return.

I remember warmth with love. From my childhood, I remember the smell of candles and burned dinners. I remember Winnie the Pooh before bedtime and fluffy blankets curled against me tightly. I remember kisses to my forehead and large swings that took me to the sky.

As a teenager, I remember the rain. Our first kiss. His smile. The thick scent of his soap and his leather jacket. I remember long, calloused fingers against my skin. I remember laughter and hope. I remember hugs and kisses and caresses under clothes. I remember fumbling and shaky hands. I remember afterwards, with words of affection and promises of forever.

And now, in adulthood, when I think of love, I think of anger. I think of dark forest green and slamming doors. I think of alcohol and tears. I think of silence and tension. I remember his face, troubled and wary. I remember begging and pleading. I remember sadness and pain. I think of leaving.

There was one point in my life where I felt that I truly knew what love was. I was seventeen and he was eighteen. He was perfectly flawed; handsome, funny, smart. He was everything.

We lay together on an old wool blanket from his mother's linen closet. It was dark. The moon shone through the thin Washington clouds.

"What do you think of when you think of me?" I had asked him.

His mouth slowly formed a grin. "I think of spinning."

This, of course, confused me. "Spinning? Like twirling or like 'prick your finger on my spinning-wheel, Aurora?'"

He laughed and God, that was my favorite sound in the world. "Like the sun earth rotates. Do you remember spinning in circles as a kid? You know, where you go as many times as you can without puking or falling over?"

I nodded.

"I think of that. I think of how whenever I'm around you, I feel like I'm... well, spinning. I'm dizzy and my heart races and I don't want to stop." He looks to me, blushing. "As cheesy as it is, you're the thing I'm spinning around. Like the sun to the earth. When I'm with you, I'm warm. When I'm away from you, everything loses its color."

I grin and my teenage heart melts at his words. "I think of love," I whisper.

His face turns to me sharply. "What?"

I grow a momentary braveness and repeat myself. "When I think of you, I think of love."

"Yeah?"

I can still hear the disbelief in his voice. "Yeah."

I watched him as he smiled again. He pulled me tightly against him, so close, but not enough.

His voice was no more than a murmur when he replied. "Cool."

I could talk about love forever, but I can't live in it. Love doesn't pay for gas, nor does it do the grocery shopping. Love doesn't bring back the dead.

Hi, I thought I'd give this writing thing a whirl. I have to thank a few people for helping me start this little ditty.

Juliegirl18 is my beta. She's a genius and a grammar wizard.

rainsoakedhello, trixie202 and EllisBell725 - my prereaders, my friends and the people who encouraged me to post this.

Reviews are greater than or equal to love. :)