[ He watied, barely breathing for her to look him in the eye and actually see him rather then her bloodstained reflection. He was equally as stained, for a lesser reason then she. He was equally as quilty; she didn't need to take all the blame.
Sliding his hand from her jaw, to her cheek, he slowly leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then the side of her mouth. It was noninvasive, nothing suggestive, but full of feelings unspoken and support and...
This was who she was; this was who he was. Bad choices or not, they were what they were. He had committed himself to this cause. Very little would dissuade him. ]