He held her under his arm with an impossible softness, planting small kisses against her hair. She was quite the opposite of his loving serenity; eyes wide and attentive, muscles softened yet braced to make her escape at any time.

“Would you like to come home with me?”, he breathed against the top of her head, where his rested.

His advance was met with silence. The blade of guilt carved a deep wound into her heart as the response rested on her tongue. He might just as well have asked if she wanted to break his heart, and she was very tempted.

There was something in his adoration that made her hostile. His love was pathetic; his vulnerability disgusting.

She shut her eyes. His deep sigh confirmed he understood.


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