"I don't love you," words whispered to the ceiling in the silence surrounding them. A wall three hallways away creaked quietly, but he took no notice of it. No one was coming to find them or hurt them, no one would bother to. It was nothing more than the house settling under the rain pounding on its roof.
Light muted by half-closed curtains flashed, and a few short seconds later thunder rumbled through the house. She buried her face against his shoulder, fingers tightening in his only to loosen guiltily a moment later. Her hair was tickling his neck and her breath cool on his damp skin, but he didn't tell her to move. Her skin was soft and warm against his and he could feel the curve of her breast against the side of his chest. Her warmth was welcome against the coldness he always felt inside, though to anyone who might touch him by chance he would feel no cooler than any other human.
When another flash of lightning illuminated the room he tightened his arm around her, still staring at the ceiling, and she allowed herself another squeeze on his hand. His head lolled to the side as he sighed all but silently, and his eyes came to rest on their hands. Fingers interlaced; her hand small and soft despite years of training, his wiry with black-painted nails. He didn't let go.
"I know."