The soft, wafting veil closed behind them as the natural green carpet welcomed their entangled bodies. Round rings of red linked to form a wet bond of love, while four arms started to explore unknown territory. Both souls felt a troubling yet exciting flock of butterflies circling inside their respective stomachs, for this was a moment of new doors opening. The world finally revealed new colors to them after enduring different shades of grey and red for so long. And these newfound colors pleased their eyes, ears, and noses.

Phillip felt the hazel waterfall of velvet between his digits, awestruck by how lovely it glided through his digits. It reminded him of a soft blanket in which he wanted to wrap himself, so he could finally find some well-deserved sleep again. How did she not run her hands through it all the time to reassure herself of the utterly self-evident nature of her beauty? To him, this collection of brown sunrays was stone-carved evidence for the existence of divinity. If there had ever been a Goddess of love - it must be her.

The uncomfortable melon in his throat reappeared. It had been growing since the mishap back in the shopping center. And now, it was starting to take its toll on the young man's mind. Even during his breathless breakdown, he had noticed a virus beginning to work on the security breach of his brain. It tried to break through his weakened defenses; tried to obscure reality to gain the upper hand over his control system. He could hear it whispering in his ear as their lips kept dancing together so deliciously: This does not last. The Dragon does not know of this. And if he did, then he would break your bones again. He would throw you out of your kingdom, especially if the Fiend told him. And could he ever hide anything from her? She had hundreds of eyes all over town and only needed to snap her fingers to open them all. And it was not like he trusted this monster. Even if the Fiend and the Dragon gave life to him, they made no secret of their disdain for who Phillip was.

They wanted him to be scared. And he was. But just before it seemed like he would lose the fight, Isabelle's angelic voice flooded his system. Expertly, it healed the wounds that the virus' minions had carved into his sanity, softly reassuring him of her love, no matter the cost. And the consequences for her actions might even be direr than for him.

After all, while his life was a grey, dull, neverending day of rain, hers was a grotesque rebarbative hotel of heartbreak. Her life-givers might even be even viler than his. They had seemed too willing to feed their daughters to the sharks that swam in their pond. It disgusted him to think back about his life-givers dragging him into the filth-riddled haven of degenerates. And yet - that's where he met her - the angel trapped in hell.

What would her givers do if they found out about their daughter secretly entangling herself with him instead of training for her destiny? It disgusted him to think about the possibilities. And little did he know that her father stooped into places he could not even imagine. If his giver was a Dragon, then hers was the Devil himself. It came as no surprise how well they got along.

"Phillip?" He had not responded to her last words. They had pulled him back from his worrying thoughts, but he hadn't even registered what she'd said. His troubled, stone-like features turned into clay, and he placed his palm on her moss-like mellow cheek. The orbs in his eyes grew to twice their size, and Isabelle reacted with a soft chuckle as she noticed the creamy tint of scarlet mixing into the color palette of his face.

"Are you okay?"

His head moved like a gentle swing while an entranced smile replaced the worrying frown on his face. Leaning forward, he placed his head's heart against hers, connecting their minds in a way he would never be able to reciprocate with anyone else.

"I don't want to worry anymore. I only want you."

Raindrops formed inside her beautiful clouds, but he did not want her to rain, even if it was out of happiness. Now was a time for celebration, not crying.