Chapter Text
For some reason, he's always wanted to hold her hand. But the rules weren't like that; they weren't flexible enough for him to dare to do such an improper gesture to a beautiful, young lady whose heart was more precious to him than many other things in life. Truth be told, everything faded in comparison with her. Beauty, silence, warmth … when Vincent was with her, he needn't any of those things, for Ada herself represented the sole thing that was much more than anything he himself deemed to be beautiful and … warm.
They were walking in the park, besides one another, the distance between themselves being very insignificant … yet it was still there. Until that point he hadn't realized how could someone be so far away yet still so close enough for him to hear even their tiniest breath or sense any of their movements before they've even started moving.
Hands … her hands …
He wanted to hold hands. To have their fingers entwined, for her to cling to his own hand enough for him to feel her nails on his skin, for his own wrist to touch hers so through his hand solely he would be able to feel her heartbeat. Vincent felt that the same could be said about her … holding hands would mean they could sense each others' heartbeats, to become one even for a little while.
… It wouldn't be appropriate. He liked her. He loved her. He didn't want others to deem her as unsuitable due to a simple gesture. Yet, at the same time, that gesture would make her his.
He kept on walking, in silence as before, but only on the surface, as in his mind there were constant waves of thoughts that kept clashing and clashing and causing one of the most frightening storms he's ever had to deal with. His gaze slowly turning a bit towards her, it fell on her neck, slowly moving towards her face, eyes … She scared him. She was frightening … the power that she had over him, that capacity of captivating him with only by letting herself be looked at.
She was meant to be made unsuitable. She was meant to be his and for the world to know.
Yet … she was frightening. Her purity, the one that was visible only on the surface, was probably all that she had … His hand moved closer to hers, barely touching but not just yet …
I'll taint you …
Warmth. He suddenly felt warmth. Like a serpent circling its victim, strangling it, he felt his hand be captivated by an unknown, strange, yet familiar warmth. He felt a firm grip, gentle scratches touching his sensitive skin.
“Are you feeling well? Your face looks red.”
She asked on a gentle tone, stepping in front of him, her hand still holding his as with her other one she touched his cheek. He felt warmer than before.
She was frightening.
Her heartbeats seemed normal, yet he felt as if he were about to die. Yet, his death wouldn't be out of fear, despite the fact that she made him want to hide forever.
You've tainted me …