More FraPrus Angst:
"I do not believe in anything that is not pain," Gilbert said, "because pain is real, and my grasp on reality is already... tentative."
He was a romantic, you see. The kind of man that fell in love with every kind word or soft gesture; the kind of man that craved vulnerability like the air he breathed. How unfortunate it was for him, Francis thought, that he believed the world was one of power politics. How unfortunate for it was him that he was so afraid of weakness he overestimated its vocabulary.
Maybe if he had been a poet... he might have had the words to replace the the ringing of steel against steel. He might have believed a raw and open heart could stay the finger of someone who he allowed to put a barrel to his chest.
"So do you not beleive in love?" The response came.
His smile was soft, a whisper of something that might have sparked the dreams he pretended he did not have. "I do."