[He keeps looking at her eyes even when he feels his insides crumbling. Waiting for her to say something, to do something, to acknowledge the end that he is convinced is coming. She has to do it, she has to acknowledge that it's over or he won't be able to go on.
If only he was like Bernkastel or Lambdadelta... He wouldn't care about her feelings then, he could just take her and tie her to him. He would be able to be happy even if she wasn't and he would find a way to make her happy as well even if she didn't want to be so. It's tempting, but he hates the idea. It's always like that, a fleeting thought that comes to his mind when he reaches the edge of patience, the edge of hope. But every time it comes the result is the same, he only feels disgust at the idea, rejection and he merely turns and walks back to the start of patience and hope. Even now he does it. Even when faced by the fact that there may be no longer any hope for this.
He's distracted by the mask falling once more, he can't help his eyes to leave hers just then, looking at the dropped mask. Soon he will know himself how it feels to be dropped by those beautiful hands that he longs to hold and kiss, right?
He's wrong.
It happens too quickly, or maybe he is too sluggish for one moment, and suddenly there's Ange all around him. Her hands on his head, her breath on his face, her lips on his lips. All thoughts in his mind are destroyed, shattered to tiny pieces as his mind surrenders, leaving only heart and feelings to react, raising their voices in a clamorous roar as he forgets himself.
His arms are around her waist in a second, pulling her close, pressing her body against his, fitting perfectly as if they were two parts of the whole. Tightly so she doesn't even slip through his hold, completely so nothing tries to steal her from him. And he kisses back, passionately, furiously even, with the same desperation someone has when drinking water after being at the edge of dying from thirst. With the love of someone who has been in love for over hundreds of years and has been unable to show it even once.]
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If only he was like Bernkastel or Lambdadelta... He wouldn't care about her feelings then, he could just take her and tie her to him. He would be able to be happy even if she wasn't and he would find a way to make her happy as well even if she didn't want to be so. It's tempting, but he hates the idea. It's always like that, a fleeting thought that comes to his mind when he reaches the edge of patience, the edge of hope. But every time it comes the result is the same, he only feels disgust at the idea, rejection and he merely turns and walks back to the start of patience and hope. Even now he does it. Even when faced by the fact that there may be no longer any hope for this.
He's distracted by the mask falling once more, he can't help his eyes to leave hers just then, looking at the dropped mask. Soon he will know himself how it feels to be dropped by those beautiful hands that he longs to hold and kiss, right?
He's wrong.
It happens too quickly, or maybe he is too sluggish for one moment, and suddenly there's Ange all around him. Her hands on his head, her breath on his face, her lips on his lips. All thoughts in his mind are destroyed, shattered to tiny pieces as his mind surrenders, leaving only heart and feelings to react, raising their voices in a clamorous roar as he forgets himself.
His arms are around her waist in a second, pulling her close, pressing her body against his, fitting perfectly as if they were two parts of the whole. Tightly so she doesn't even slip through his hold, completely so nothing tries to steal her from him. And he kisses back, passionately, furiously even, with the same desperation someone has when drinking water after being at the edge of dying from thirst. With the love of someone who has been in love for over hundreds of years and has been unable to show it even once.]