He squeezed his father's hand and continued pulling him along, the photo album tucked protectively under one arm. The night wasn't over. There were stories to share. Pages to turn. Stew to reheat. And maybe—even if just for tonight—a little healing that didn't have to hurt. And Nero found himself smiling when he felt Vergil squeezing his hand back.
From Kokolockhart's story Where innocence once danced. It made my heart warm. Kinda sad/bittersweet towards the end by lovely all the same.
Cheers!











