Miles smiles, eyes closed, hands around his lover.
What a quiet world it is when Franziska von Karma is not screaming, whipping and/or punching.
She is relatively calm, and has been for the past few days.
She smiles back and tightens her hold on him, snuggling into his chest.
He is lightly surprised by how gentle she has been, even curious.
Franziska has been even more calmer, smiling, and kind.
Miles kisses her and is happy she's like this.
It's so peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Anger fills the air, and Franziska is descending like a thundercloud on poor Miles.
He is whipped over and over again, but he bears it and holds her closer, bittersweet tears trickling down his face.
She only screams and wrestles with him, pleading to be freed.
So unfair, she screams.
I hate you, she screams.
Was she not so peaceful before?
The doctors shake their heads and repeat over and over to him that she needs to be contained.
Isolated from the world.
He refuses.
Miles admires Franziska for this trait, albeit a terrible one.
Franziska's peace is like the lull before a storm, and he is miserable when she turns into a raging storm.
When she is calm again, she is like a storm all over again. Well, an about-to-be storm.
She closes her eyes and pushes herself closer to him, smiling happily.
He likes it.
The storm may come, but he likes the calm before it.