[ His smile is crooked, his eyes wet, but his voice doesn't crack, and for that he's thankful. ]
Don't I always?
[ And that's a lie, too - because since she'd gone he'd become disgustingly transparent, nothing like the man she once knew, not even like the man he became. He loves her, and it's a weakness, but he can't help himself. Even after all this time, through the tears and frustration and madness, he can't not love her. ]
[ The kiss is light, barely there, more a breath than a brush of lips - and he lets his fingers wander to a wisp of hair at her temple, brushing it back. ]
no subject
Don't I always?
[ And that's a lie, too - because since she'd gone he'd become disgustingly transparent, nothing like the man she once knew, not even like the man he became. He loves her, and it's a weakness, but he can't help himself. Even after all this time, through the tears and frustration and madness, he can't not love her. ]
[ The kiss is light, barely there, more a breath than a brush of lips - and he lets his fingers wander to a wisp of hair at her temple, brushing it back. ]
[ That's all he knows how to do. ]