Oh, he could feel her pain with every bit of contact they had made and oh, how his heart broke for her. Every small movement seemed to be a plea. "Let me help you," he murmured, his hands working gently. While she may not have realized it, the man did, when the tears rolled past their lips; lips interlocked, whispering a silent promise, saying It will be alright...I'll make it that way. His hands, they tremble out of fear, fear of attachment, fear of love. The only thing more overwhelming than the feeling of fear was love and with good reason, it hurt. Yet here he knelt, on the bed with the woman he loved in his arms, pouring all of his love into her, into his actions and hoping, praying that she would be alright. This was not a showdown or a shootout, they were not facing off, but he could feel the rumble between dusk and dawn as if the chance to come clean with himself will be outlawed unless he relaxed. To come clean, admit that he loved her more than anything he had ever known. Right now, he was fighting away the demons that threatened to come ripping out of him, he felt his entire body tremble. "It takes a long time to make love to someone that hates themselves..." he warned, his head dipping to the side, lips pressing against her neck. Just like that, his hands slipped away from her hips and his arms wrapped around her waist, one more silent, unspoken promise, I won't stop loving you, it's not your job to sweep up the mess when you've been broken...I will help.