I. Motion

It is moments like these which he cherishes the most, when he is given the rare opportunity to hold her close to him. While this is purely out of comfort and not love, his heart still thrums against his ribcage, arms encircling her delicate frame as he anchors her there with him.

Absentmindedly, they're swaying back and forth on the spot, keeping time with a silent metronome. Her face is buried into his shoulder, where she will leave the damp stain of her tears. But he doesn't mind. He just moves with her, letting the world turn without them.

In this moment, everything feels so perfect. It's half-past three o'clock in the morning and they're rocking back and forth without any rhythm whatsoever, but he absolutely loves it.

And God, how he wants to kiss her troubles away, but he knows he can't.

And that has been the greatest pain of any he'd ever felt.