Pylades: I'll take care of you.

Orestes: Its rotten work.

Pylades: Not to me. Not if its you.

He wants her to leave.

Not because he doesn't like her, not because she could hurt him.

No, he wants her to leave because he doesn't want to hurt her. Because she deserves better. Because she needs a better life, and he can't give it to her.

But she doesn't leave.

She stays and teaches him how to dance, how to care for the flowers she brings him. She sleeps in his bed, even when he doesn't use it, because she says he keeps her safe.

He always would.

Because she makes him feel safe; with soft hands and pretty eyes, ones that look at him with this. . .overwhelming sense of love and understanding. Even when he steps on her toes while they danced, even he cut her with the scissors, when he screamed at her and threatened.

He doesn't want to scare her again.

He doesn't want to hurt her.

He doesn't want to kiss her, but she's kissing him now and he feels so warm. She is so warm, with her hands hesitant against his shoulders, his jaw; she trembles and he pulls away.

Fear.

Her eyes water, like he's looking into the ocean, and he is scared but she's smiling.

"Gaara. . ." she whispers, her fingers curling around the strap over his chest. "Kiss me again, please. Please don't pull away."

He hesitates, he doesn't want to, he wants to go outside, he wants to run.

She tugs gently on him, pulling him closer, her lips brushing against his and she chuckles. Her eyes, damn her eyes and the way she looks at him.

"Its okay," she whispers, cupping his jaw in her hand; what soft hands. "Its okay, I promise," she paused. "Help me cook, okay?"

He nods softly, letting her take his hand, holding tight.