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Violets: Modesty, faithfulness, and secret love.
Anemone: Forsaken love.
Ever since the war started, Federico frequently received the Inheritor of the Ark in his temporary lodgings. They talked about the war, about the situation back in Sacria, about their plans going forward. They met like that quite often. There was always something happening, one crisis after the other, and frequent exchange of ideas was helpful.
Sometimes, when there was still time remaining, they played chess together. He was a much better player than her, but it was a good way to exercise strategic thinking, and so he tried to teach her, as much as possible. She was a very diligent student, and, occasionally, they talked about something not entirely work-related during the game. They knew each other for quite some time now, they were both allies and comrades.
It was on a relatively calm evening like that when she coughed quietly as they played. He didn't pay much attention to it, but then she coughed again.
"What's wrong? Are you cold?" he asked, frowning, as he gave her a careful look.
"It's fine," she answered, covering her mouth with her palm. "Just tired probably. It's fine!"
He didn't press the issue, and they continued their game.
A week later they met again, and, as they were discussing the possibility of Twilight priests infiltrating Kurzan, she started coughing again. It was louder this time and sounded like it came from deep within her chest, and it instantly made him worried.
"Clavaria," he said, reaching out to her, "what's wrong? That doesn't sound good! Are you ill?"
"M-maybe a little," she muttered, looking away. "I'm so very sorry."
"There's nothing to apologise for," he said, "but you should've said something. I'm a priest, I can help with something as mundane as a simple cold. Here, let me heal you."
She allowed him to approach and mutter a prayer, and very soon soothing golden light enveloped her form.
"Is this better?" he asked, finishing his recitation.
"T-thank you," she said quietly. "I think so. It's a bit easier to breathe now. Thank you."
Federico frowned at her words. A bit easier to breathe? But his prayer should've completely healed her. That was odd. But maybe she simply needed rest.
Which is exactly what he told her before sending her back home. Their talk could wait.
The next time they met she started coughing again. She apologised hastily and turned away, covering her mouth with her hand, but the fit continued.
He rose to his feet and approached, alarmed, only to see her cough become worse and worse, until she shuddered violently and something burst out from her mouth.
He was afraid to see blood, but it wasn't blood. It were... flower petals? Delicate violet petals, smeared with saliva, were strewn across the floor, some of them clinging to her hand, and she looked at them in horror.
"What... is this?!" he asked, just as terrified as her. "We need to get you to the field hospital! Come, quickly!"
He dragged her with him into the main camp, and very soon a whole council of healers from every corner of the world was gathered to look at her symptoms.
"I'm afraid I know what this is," a doctor from Anikka suddenly said, her expression grim. "This is a disease of Petranian origin, and we believe it might be something created by the Lord of Lust herself. It has plagued my homeland for many centuries now, and we call it Hanahaki - Flower Coughing disease. It used to be extremely rare outside of Anikka, but we've seen several cases here on Kurzan already, possibly due to the overwhelming Petranian influence."
"And how do I get better?" Clavaria asked. "It seems like even the primal Light cannot cure it!"
"That's because your own soul is feeding the disease now," the doctor sighed. "Inheritor, I apologise for saying it out loud like this, but... this is too important. Hanahaki can only mean one thing: you are in love with someone, and your love is unrequited. Your only chance of getting better is for that person to return your feelings, otherwise the flowers will grow until they choke you to death."
Silence filled the room then, people turning away in embarrassment. This was such a deeply personal thing to learn about someone, and in such a way too. And yet... It was potentially fatal.
"Is... Is there no other cure?" Clavaria asked softly.
"There is oneother option," the doctor said. "We could try and cut the flowers out. It is normally very dangerous, but, with the level of technology and the number of healers at our disposal here, I'm sure it's possible and even relatively safe. There will be a side effect though. Removing the flowers would mean you losing whatever feelings you had for that person, making you indifferent towards them. If that is all right with you, then we should do it, and do it soon."
"Let... Let me think about it," Clavaria whispered, and then she asked to be left alone.
She came to see him again three days later, bringing him fresh reports from the frontlines. She looked pale and exhausted, dark shadows lingering under her eyes.
"Have you not decided what to do about your illness yet?" Federico asked her, deeply concerned.
"No..." she said, looking away. Her voice was hoarse from coughing all the time.
"You don't have much time," he frowned. "Clavaria, this is irresponsible! You are the Inheritor of the Ark! Your life is more important than anyone else's here! We need to help you!"
She sighed heavily.
"But I don't know what to do," she whispered, looking down.
"Try confessing your feelings to whoever that person is?" he suggested. "You could at least try! So many people admire you already, the chances of that person liking you are quite high!"
"No..." she said. "I don't think that person likes me. Not in that sense."
"Then remove the flowers!" he said. "We have every opportunity here to do it successfully. It is the only way of saving you!"
She didn't reply, looking away, her hands shaking.
"Why are you hesitating?" he asked sternly. "I'm sorry, but this is no time to entertain romantic fantasies! You are dying, and the world needs you! You are the only person who can use the Ark!"
She shuddered slightly and suddenly started to cough again. She coughed and coughed, until handfuls of petals burst from her mouth again, and this time they were smeared with blood.
"Clavaria!" he said again, leaning down to where she was kneeling on the floor. "There is no time, you need to make a decision!"
"But... But..." she stuttered, and he saw her reach out and grab several petals with a trembling hand. "But I don't want to forget! That... That feeling... It is the only thing I have!.."
Her voice was suddenly so sad he felt his own chest grow tight. Who was that man (or woman?..) that she loved so much? To the point where even a hopeless unrequited love was important to her, so important she was ready to die for it?
"Clavaria," he said again, holding her shoulders. "Please, listen to me. You need to survive. I... don't know what the situation is, but... I'm sorry, it seems like your love is hopeless anyway. It would be easier for you to live if you aren't burdened by such a one-sided feeling. And I must say it again. You must survive. The world needs you."
She looked up at him then and didn't say anything for a long time, just staring at him.
"...yes," she finally said, slowly getting up. "You are right. I shouldn't be so selfish. This isn't about me."
"This IS about you," he argued. "This is about your very life, your very survival! Please, think about your own life first!"
"I... I will," she looked away again, taking a deep breath. "I will go and find that doctor. I will tell her to prepare the surgery. That will be for the best."
He nodded, and she walked to the door. She paused at the threshold and looked back at him before saying, very quietly:
"Goodbye."
And then she left.
The surgery was a success. As soon as it was performed, all residual damage was easily healed by the priests, and the very next day she was already back in action, as if nothing happened. She appeared exactly the same as she was before, and everyone who knew of her delicate problem breathed a sigh of relief. That whole embarrassing situation was over.
Federico was much relieved as well, obviously. He was worried about her safety and glad to see her in good health again. He expected her to come visit him soon enough, there were matters he wished to discuss with her.
Except she never came. He occasionally received reports that were signed by her name, but she never visited him at his humble dwelling. She didn't bring news, she didn't come to him with questions, she didn't want to discuss anything.
He told himself she was busy and tried not to think of it too much, they met often enough in the war room after all. Yet sometimes he now caught himself thinking of her. Of the things he would say to her once they had a chance to talk. Of matters he could use her opinion on. Of questions he wanted to ask her. And she never came.
One evening he paused in front of the chessboard that stood forgotten in the corner, frozen in the middle of their last game, and started thinking of the next move he could make. If she was to do this, then he...
He stopped himself soon enough. She hasn't come to play even a single time after her surgery. It seemed like she lost interest.
The next time they met at the war council he approached her after the meeting was concluded.
"Clavaria," he called out to her.
"Oh, Justiciar," she said, turning to face him. "What can I do for you?"
"I was meaning to ask how you were feeling these days," he said, watching her warily. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she replied politely. And said nothing else.
"That's... good to hear," he said, suddenly awkward. He realised it was normally her who kept their conversations going. "I wanted to say that if there's anything you wish to discuss or any news worth sharing, my door is always open for you."
She looked at him with what appeared to be surprise.
"Why, thank you," she said. "But there's no need to bother you with every little thing when a simple written report would suffice. I'm sure you are quite busy."
"It's no bother," he shook his head. "I value your opinions very much. You can come at any time. And I would be happy to continue our chess lessons when you are less busy."
"Oh, right!" She suddenly grinned. "Chess! Yeah, don't worry about it. I apologise for taking so much of your time with that nonsense, but I'm bad at it anyway. No need to waste your efforts. I really have no idea why I kept pestering you, that was ridiculous. I'm sorry."
"There... was nothing ridiculous about that," he said, for some reason feeling hurt. Did she really think it was nonsense? But he enjoyed those quiet evenings...
"You are too kind," she replied. "But really, no need. You can use the time to rest and recuperate, that would be much better. Now, is there anything else I can help you with? I promised the Sages I would go talk to them after the meeting."
"No," he said, somewhat lost. "No, that is all. Thank you for your time."
"Take care, Justiciar," she said, "Send a courier if there's anything else you need!"
And then she left, and he remained standing in that same spot, feeling uneasy and confused. Everyone said she was the same now as she was before, yet to him she seemed so very different. She was so calm, yet also so... cold?
Several more days passed, and still she never came. Truth be told, there was no real need for her to visit him. There was nothing she could say that either wasn't already said at the council or couldn't be safely conveyed in a letter. And it has always been like that. She never had to visit him in the first place. But she still did. In the past.
Federico sat back in his chair one evening, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was tired, and the news from home worried him deeply. There was nothing to be done about it at the moment, yet the anxiety was still there, and he found himself wanting to talk to someone about all this. Someone who would listen, and pay close attention, and offer both sympathy and advice. Someone like her.
But she rarely talked to him now, not unless they were at the council together or there was something truly urgent. And even when she did, she was so distant. He used to believe her attitude towards him was normal, thinking it was her simply being friendly and kind, the same as she was to everyone else. He realised now it wasn't so. She used to be so sympathetic whenever she talked to him. So attentive. So warm.
He took her company for granted and, now that he didn't have it any more, felt like a man who suddenly lost his only cloak in the middle of a winter. And the cold winds were chilling him to the bone.
And then on another evening, as he glanced at the chessboard again, long covered by a layer of ash that got everywhere on Kurzan, he suddenly figured it out.
Her illness. The flowers that choked her. Her unrequited love.
She used to love him.
That was the reason why she kept visiting him. Why she always kept their conversations going. Why she listened to everything he said with rapt attention. Why she wanted to know what he was doing and what bothered him. Why she never said no to anything he asked.
She used to love him.
And the chess. She never had any interest in playing chess. She merely wanted to spend more time with him, and playing the game was an innocent excuse.
She used to love him.
And he told her himself to destroy that love, to cut it out of her body. He called her irresponsible. He told her she had to think of the world, of her mission. He told her to make a decision.
She used to love him.
And she treasured that feeling, unconfessed and unrequited, so much that she was almost ready to die for it. Who knows, had she not been the Inheritor of the Ark, maybe she would've died for it. She would simply allow the flowers to grow until they smothered her and became her funeral wreath.
She used to love him. And now... she didn't. Not any more.
Federico slumped into his chair, suddenly weak. How did he not realise sooner! It was so obvious!
But he thought it was normal. He thought it was nothing special. He thought it would always be like that.
And it was special what she offered him. So very special, and, now that he lost it, he knew he would never have anything like that again. Because he killed her love and now wasn't even her friend any more. He was a stranger, and she didn't care for him one bit.
She never smiled at him like she used to, warm and somewhat shy. She never asked him how he was doing and if something was bothering him. She never told him random stories about her travels. And when she looked at him, her eyes didn't light up immediately, filled with emotion.
Because she didn't love him any more.
---
She was away in Rimeria when Federico's symptoms started. He coughed occasionally at first and eventually more and more often. He tried to heal himself, but it only brought a temporary relief, allowing him to perform his duties more or less unimpeded, but his nights were a nightmare now.
When he started coughing up flower petals, it didn't surprise him. He knew what it was.
He idly wondered why the petals looked different. Her flowers looked like delicate violets. His were white and the petals were of a different shape. Did it mean something? He didn't know and didn't really care. He knew the reason for what was happening to him.
He loved her.
He loved her eyes that rarely gave him a second look now. He loved her voice that never called him by his name. He loved her lips that never smiled at him any more. He loved her heart that was completely closed to him now. He loved her warmth that only existed in his memories.
He loved her.
The logical thing to do would be to approach that Anikkan doctor and request an immediate surgery. His feelings would never be returned, his illness was fatal. Not to mention that he was a priest in the first place. Removing the flowers was an objectively correct choice, there was simply no other way.
Yet now he finally understood her hesitation back then. He understood why she didn't want to cut the flowers out. Because the illness was the only thing he had of her. And losing it would mean losing her - completely, without trace.
And so he did nothing. He used his abilities to maintain his body in working condition, even as he knew that wouldn't be enough at some point. But he didn't care.
He killed her love, and now the flowers would kill him. It was only fair.
---
Clavaria entered the Sacrian encampment with a feeling of slight discomfort. Damned Sacrians! And to think she used to come here often in the past! Was she completely insane?
But right now she had an actual purpose coming here. Under her arm she held an ancient Sacrian scroll, it was an artifact she brought back from Rimeria, and there was only one priest on this whole continent who was both strong enough to unlock it and trustworthy enough. Aside from the Archon himself, of course. And so, reluctantly, she went to speak with him. With Justiciar Federico.
She told herself he wasn't her enemy any more, he was an ally. He did much to help both her people and the combined armies of Arkesia. She had to be polite at the very least.
She knocked at his door. It was rather late already, but most people were still awake.
"Just a moment," a voice said from behind the door, and then there was a short commotion.
Eventually, the door opened, and she stepped inside. There was an odd smell about the room. Flowers? And something metallic. Like fresh blood.
Clavaria looked around.
Federico stood before her without his cloak, in his shirt and pants only. His face and hands were wet. He was extremely pale, dark shadows visible beneath his sunken eyes. And he was staring at her like he was seeing a ghost.
"Good evening," she said, "I hope I'm not bothering you too much. You see, there's this scroll..."
But, before she could take it out, he suddenly started coughing. It was quiet at first and then became louder and more severe, and he turned away.
"Justiciar?" she called out, somewhat worried. What was wrong with him? "Are you okay? Do you need some water?"
"F-fine..." he managed to say. "I'm f-fine..."
And then his palms were enveloped by a golden halo, and he pressed them to his chest. He took several quick gasping breaths and then slowly started to breathe normally again.
"This doesn't look fine," Clavaria frowned. "Are you sure you don't need me to call for someone?"
"No," he said, turning back to face her. "I apologise. Everything is fine. I'm so glad to see you. Please, what is it that I can do for you?"
She tilted her head to the side. So glad to see her? A Sacrian priest glad to see a Delain?
Oh, but of course. He wasn't like other Sacrians. He was her ally. He did so much to help her in recent years. There was no need to doubt him so.
"There is this scroll I wanted you to take a look at," she said, taking out a gilded case and dropping it on top of his desk. "Whenever you have the time. It's not urgent."
"Of course," he said immediately. "Of course I will take a look. I can do it right now..."
"No, no need!" She waved his words away. "You were probably planning to go to rest. It can wait. I won't bother you any more."
She tried to turn around and leave then, but he suddenly stopped her.
"Wait!" he said. "Would you... Would you fancy a quick game of chess then?"
She turned back to him in surprise.
"What? But I already told you, it's a waste of time. Your time first of all. And I'm very bad at it anyway."
"Then tea? Maybe I can offer you some tea?" he asked again.
She paused. That was so very odd. He was trying to delay her, to prevent her from leaving. But why?
"Justiciar, is something wrong?" she asked in return, and for a change looked at him closely.
He sure was handsome, even now, when he was obviously unwell. He had beautiful eyes, light grey like morning mist.
"I... I merely wanted to talk to you," he said quietly, still staring at her. "Please, if you have the time..."
Talk? About what? What was there to say between them that wasn't already said at the council? Yet before she could say anything, he started coughing again.
The cough sounded terrible, and he tried to use his abilities again. Except the fit was so bad the light simply flickered and died around his fingers. He doubled over, then slumped to his knees, his hand on his chest.
"Justiciar!" she exclaimed, running up to him. "What's wrong? You need help! I will call for someone!"
She tried to do just that, but he caught her sleeve and held her with surprising strength, even as he kept coughing. Coughing until a handful of bloodied white petals burst out from his mouth to the floor.
She stared at the petals in horror. Hanahaki. It was Hanahaki! And in a very advanced stage already!
"Please... don't go," he whispered weakly once the coughing subsided. "And don't... tell anyone."
She stopped in her tracks.
"I understand this might be very embarrassing for you, you being a priest," she said, "but you need to do something about it! It's killing you!"
"No," he said. "I will not get rid of it. I won't. I refuse. I won't."
She frowned even more, placing her palms on his shoulders. He was trembling.
"But then you will die! Well, unless your feelings are returned. Can you contact the person you are... interested in?"
"I can," he answered.
"Have you told them about your feelings?" she asked again. "That's the only other way!"
"It won't work," he whispered.
"How do you know?" she asked, frowning. But then, almost immediately, she let out a heavy sigh. "Although... I do understand. When this illness struck me...... You know, I don't remember who it was I even liked back then. Which is probably for the best. But I remember being certain that that person wasn't interested in me. I just knew. Sometimes you simply know."
He slowly lifted his head, looking at her. There were traces of blood on his pale lips, and she reached out and wiped it away, without thinking. His eyes followed the movement of her hand.
"Sometimes you simply know," he agreed. "But then again, even in such situations we are sometimes... wrong."
"Do you think so?" she stared back at him. "You think I had a chance? Well, it doesn't matter now. And at least whoever that person was in my case, they don't have to live with the burden of everything that happened."
He coughed again, turning to the side to spit out another handful of bloody white petals.
"This is about you though," she frowned again. "No one can force you to do the surgery, but if there's even the smallest, most miniscule chance of your feelings being returned, then you have to try and do something! You don't have much time left!"
He shook his head.
"She doesn't care about me," he said quietly. "At all. I know it for a fact."
Clavaria sighed, exasperated. Was he really about to just give up and die? Because of some woman?
"Well, if she truly doesn't care one bit, then you can tell her for sure," she said. "Someone who doesn't care to such an extent won't care anyway! And if you are mistaken, if she does care..."
He coughed again, and more blood splattered on the floor.
"Justiciar!" she called urgently. "There's no time! Tell me who it is! I will take you to her!"
"No need," he sighed. "She is already here."
She froze, trying to comprehend his words.
"Clavaria," he said softly, turning to face her. "I love you. I love you so very much. I miss you so very much. And I am so, so sorry. If only I realised it sooner. If only I didn't take you for granted. If only I never said all those terrible things to you."
She stared at him silently. Did she understand him correctly? He was saying that... that... that she was ill because she loved him?.. HIM?!
She immediately removed her hands from his shoulders.
They told her she would completely forget the man she used to love, but now she seemed to vaguely remember some things. She did visit him all the time. And even asked him to teach her how to play chess. It was ridiculous, and she did it... because she used to love him.
But the flowers were removed. And with them her feelings for him.
She took a small step back.
He looked down, away from her.
"I am so sorry," he whispered. "So sorry."
He coughed again and dropped down to his elbows and knees, entire flowers starting to fall from his mouth. He was dying. The disease was about to kill him.
"No! What are you doing!" she yelled, panicking. "Quickly, we need to get you to the doctor! Come!"
She kneeled at his side and took him by his shoulders again, trying to pull him up.
"N-no," he stuttered. "I won't do it. I won't. I don't want to lose you!.."
What was he even talking about? There was never anything between them! And whatever it was she felt for him, it was cut out of her. He was about to die!
"Stop it!" she yelled at him. "No! The world needs you! How can you allow yourself to die over some stupid girl! Who was apparently so stupid she didn't even understand you could be interested in her as well! We need to save you!"
He chuckled bitterly, even as he kept coughing.
"That's exactly what I told you back then. That the world needs you. But I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget being loved. I don't want to forget how it felt. I don't want to forget you."
"No..." she whispered, watching him helplessly. And suddenly she realised she truly didn't want him to die.
Not because it was a waste of life. Not because he was a trusted ally. Not because they needed him to win this war.
Because of… something else.
"No!" she said again, hugging his trembling form. "No!"
"You are... so warm..." he whispered, leaning into her touch. He stopped coughing. She could hear his breath leave his chest with a terrible grating noise. His lungs were full of flowers, he was about to suffocate. "Call me... by my name. Please. Just... once..."
"No!" she cried out, her vision blurry from sudden tears. "No, hang on! Federico! Federico!.."
"Yes..." he whispered, his eyes starting to dim. "Like... that......"
"No!!!" she screamed, shaking him. He didn't react.
She pulled his face closer and pressed her lips to his own, trying to push her own breath into his failing lungs, holding on to him desperately.
"No!" she was thinking. "No, don't die! Don't die! Don't leave me! You are too wonderful to die! Too beautiful! Too kind! Too precious!"
"Federico!" she sobbed against his cold lips. "No, don't die! I... I love you!.. Don't die!.."
And then she kissed him once more, and suddenly his body shuddered violently. She pushed the air into his lungs again, and he inhaled and instantly started to cough, forcing her to pull away.
His cough was different now though, it was dry and rasping, and he kept gasping for air, trembling all over. And no petals appeared on his lips.
"Federico!" she exclaimed, his body slipping out of her grasp as he reared back, still coughing and looking up at her in shock. His eyes were clear again.
He closed them for a second, and a golden halo appeared around his hand. He pressed his palm to his own chest and clenched his teeth, shuddering again. And then the light dissipated, and he fell to the ground, his strength leaving him. But he was breathing. He was panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale.
"Federico?.." she called out to him, crawling closer, trying to look at his face. "Are you all right? Can you breathe?"
Instead of answering, he grabbed her arm and pulled her down to the floor, on top of him, his other hand coming up to rest on the back of her head.
"Federico!" she said again, searching his face. "Talk to me! Are you in pain? Do you need a healer? Does it h... mmf!"
She never had the chance to finish, because he pulled her face closer to his own and kissed her, clumsily, but with such passion she felt her head spin.
His lips were still cold, traces of blood remaining on them, and she felt the taste of metal fill her mouth. It reminded her of how close he came to dying, right here in her arms, and she hugged his body, kissing him back.
"Clavaria..." he whispered against her lips, finally able to part with her. His voice was hoarse and slightly broken. "I love you. I love you!.."
"I... I love you too," she said softly. Because she remembered now. She did love him. It seemed impossible now that she could ever even forget. What could those stupid flowers ever do that would make her forget how much she loved him? "How do you feel?"
"I missed you so much," he whispered, staring into her eyes. "So much!.."
And then he was pulling her to him again and kissing her once more. And it was still awkward and clumsy, but she didn't care.
"W-we need to get you off the floor," she muttered, trying to evade his lips that reached out to kiss her again. "It's cold here! You are still weak!"
"I'm fine," he said, holding her tighter. "I'm fine! Don't go!"
And so she didn't and embraced him gently, pressing her ear to his chest, listening to the sound of his breathing. He sighed, as if in relief, and relaxed a little underneath her form. They remained like that, just lying there, in the middle of his room, saying nothing.
Until she finally pushed herself up and looked into his face again.
"You stupid, stupid man!" she yelled, hitting him in the shoulder. "You were about to die! You almost did! Federico!.."
He said nothing, looking up into her eyes.
"Federico!" she continued, suddenly furious. "Why did you allow it to get that far! Are you crazy?! And what if I didn't come to see you today?! Stupid! You are so stupid!!!"
He still said nothing, but smiled broadly all of a sudden.
"Federico!!" She hit him again. "You scared me so much!!! What are you even smiling about, this isn't funny!!!"
"You say it differently every time," he suddenly said, and for a moment she was scared he really was not in the right mind.
"What?" she asked, frowning. "I say what differently?"
"My name," he answered. "Every time you say it, it sounds different."
She blushed, suddenly flustered.
"Clavaria..." he said softly. "Do you love me?"
"Of course I do!" she exclaimed and hit him again. He grunted, wincing slightly.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Immediately worried, she looked him over again. "Talk to me! How do you feel? Does anything hurt? I'm sorry! I'm sorry I keep hitting you! You scared me so much!"
"It's fine," he replied, still smiling. "Hit me all you want, I think I deserve it."
"You... You!!" she all but growled. "Tell me how you feel, right now, or I WILL leave, right this instant!"
"Fine, I feel fine," he whispered, his eyes never leaving her face. "I healed most of the damage immediately. I'm just weak, it will pass."
"You dummy!" she said. "You absolute dummy!"
"Yes, I'm all that and more," he said, before pulling her down into another kiss.
"Mmm," she sighed into his mouth. "Wait, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn'thave called you that. That's disrespectful."
"Call me anything you want," he murmured, chasing her lips. "As long as it's you. As long as you care. As long as you're with me."
"F-Federico..." she stuttered, suddenly weak in his arms.
"Yes, this one I like the most," he said, holding her closer to his chest.
And when he kissed her again, it didn't taste like blood any more.