Her touch still gentle, she didn’t flinch away at the feel of his lips against her skin, still a pleasant sensation even if she was somewhat lost in her own mind. Her thumb gently stroked his cheek, her eyes searching his expression, not saying anything for the longest time as she pulled away only slightly, one hand dropping to the arm that had wrapped around her waist, “Why are you sorry?” her tone was light, gentle, almost confused, “You didn’t kill him, did you? You didn’t do anything wrong,” she gently nudged herself forwards slightly, her lips twitching into a half smile. It was true, she did not understand his guilt when he had done nothing wrong. Failing to protect her from the sight made no difference, she always would of known. She raised her hand, index finger gently pressing against his lips, a nod of her head, she didn’t want to hear the word sorry anymore. Sorry was just a word. She already knew that he wished for things to have been different, but that was the thing, things could not be changed or rearranged, they simply were. Her mind was a series of doors that opened and closed, but her feelings for him, as gentle as ever, remained. “Sometimes people just aren’t who you thought, nobody is really bad, they just see the world in a different way,” her fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt, eyeing the detail before her gaze drifted distantly back to his own for a second before wandering down to the last trickles of wine stuck to her legs, eyes guided past disregarded clothes to skin glazed in scars, she finally looked back at him, “Do you still want me?”
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