[Everything is suddenly in motion. Kazuha feels the pull, the momentum started by their arrival to the sea of plum trees. He can't stop it now, can't slow down, now that he's started. This is what he's been preparing for— yet his cheeks grow rosy and his heart slams against the cage of his ribs like a wild animal thrashing for freedom. He feels dizzy, almost detached, his eyes glued on the man next to him.

He moves, clasping his hand around the one already entwined with the other man's, holding it with both hands now. Standing beneath the branches of the tree, he could almost blend in, the pale flowers blending with his hair. The stars are numerous— the ocean of emotion he's holding back manifesting in kizuna, dotting across his hair like a white galaxy.]

I thought when we met that my thievery would be the only such transgression between us. Alas, I could not predict that in the end, it would be my heart stolen.

[Kazuha doesn't know how to put things simply because the way that he feels about the immortal moves him to speak it with poetry. Simply stating his desire seemed inadequate to convey that he's been feeling. His hands are shaking slightly, a light tremble against Scaramouche's hand.

He dips closer. Should he ask to kiss him? Should he just do it? Beneath the veil of his lashes, Kazuha looks along the doll's delicate jaw. His skin is like porcelain, flawless and white. He wants to tip his head up, put a bruise along the perfect flesh.]

I do this for you.