"We found each other, I think," Edmund whispered.  His own eyes were open, looking at the wall in front of him but seeing nothing.  He squeezed Francis' hand.

"I don't know if I've ever been happy in my life," he confessed.  "I've just been living.  But with you, right now - I'm happy now."

What was happiness, really?  Was it just laughing, smiling?  Edmund had thought so before, but now he wasn't so sure.  What was that compared to laughing and smiling with Francis?

Was Francis happiness?

Yes, Edmund's mind whispered, and he believed it.