The way he treasured her hands as something; gold and diamonds were nothing compared to it, to her. Nothing could shine as her own presence again. Sighs deeply as his chest moves; his eyes stared at hers knowing he could not let her go again. He doesn't want to —She's been asking me for you this whole time. She has your smile, the way she laughs —could not help it but smiles—, even the way she fights for something she care for. It was joyful but painful to see. How does that make any sense? —

Looking at her was like a dream itself. If it was a dream he wanted to never been wake up, ever. Touching her hands, he held them enough to let him get close to her, looking down 'cause of height differences. He really missed that.