He looked at all the people in that room, their tears and their smiles merging together as one, and at the care they all had for him, as if he was worth something great.

Silences like these were never uncomfortable for them, never an awkward space squabbling for meaningless words to fill it. It was acceptance, of a sort, an understanding. These were the people who had lived long and fitfully enough to discover that they were not alone, that there were people out there who would love and fight with them.

After all, courage is knowing that fear is inevitable, but living your life despite of it,' she murmured, the words partly obscured by his shoulder. 'Don’t fear love anymore. Sometimes, you just have to keep going and remember that you are not your heartache...' her voice was soft, pronounced, '...and you will find a way.

But the question always snuck up on her whenever it could, between comfortable, drawn-out moments of silence, through the breaking of dawn when they were gallantly trying to stay up to catch a glimpse of the sunrise, or through their watered down smiles and hands clutching wine glasses, yearning desperately for a quick abandonment of their too-sharp, too-stark minds.

The two girls grew up with the same feeling of love for years and knew it was home, and better than Heaven, which was only a place.

They were sitting close to each other, heads together as if in scheme. He had suddenly wished that she had been with him at their house. He could imagine her as a little girl, eyes wild and hair untamed, running on her small but sturdy feet, climbing trees and earning scrapes, picking fruit from the highest branch.