I'm trembling.

My hands are shaking as I hold him

Clutching him to my chest

A wispy strand of his beautiful soft hair tickles my collarbone

I brush it back in place and he smiles, probably unconsciously, in his sleep

He looks like a doll, a sleeping little doll, with his flawless skin and perfect features

But even when he smiles, he seems sad

A sad little doll.

I wonder, if we had hearts,

Then maybe I could hear his and feel his

Beating in time with my own

That would be nice

He shudders slightly, and I instinctively hug him tighter, so tight I could break his ribs, and I whisper

'You'll be okay, I've got you'

Wishing I could stop his horrible nightmares.

He gets absolutely terrifying nightmares,

I know

And I know I can't do anything about them

They're a curse he's got

One of many

So I just wrap my arms around him, feeling his bony spine through the thin leather of his coat, and hum,

Peacefully,

Stroking that vivid silver-blue hair

Reassuring him even though he can't hear my words in his night terrors.

Some of the others use to think we were lovers

We never quite understood why they thought that

We're almost as different as night and day

But I do care about him

So much

And he accepts that

Because I've seen him with all his problems unhidden, all faults showing

From me no secrets were hid.

And he had cried, hot tears of embarrassment and bitter tears of shame, and cold tears of hatred for himself

I'd never seen him cry before

He had used to say that it's against our nature and that we shouldn't

But I disagree

We feel things-I know we do. Why are we told we don't? Something is wrong with that.

But I didn't concern him with my thoughts

I dried his tears, telling him 'It's okay to cry'.

I think he believed me.

He's peaceful again

His frail body stopped shaking

And his face looks calmer

His nightmare must've stopped

But I won't let go

I want to protect him

I need to protect him

And I want to make the sad little doll's smile be real.

…

Maybe I do love him, a little.

Not as a boyfriend or a lover does,

But…something is there. Something…more.

Maybe we're connected.

Maybe we have a bond of heart.

Maybe we're connected in our hearts, wherever they are.

Liberale Familia.

A special bond.

But even if we aren't…. I'm still here, still sitting in this blank white room, holding him close to me, whispering 'I'm here for you'.

Because I am. Because he needs me.

Because I want this sad little doll to smile. For real. Forever.