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Taco looked at herself in the reflection of the river water, eyes devoid of any emotion. Around her, the trees rustled as the wind blew past them in the chill of the night, with the moon shining down on the glimmering waters in front of her.
Vaguely in the distance, the residents of OJ’s hotel could be heard as there was a party going on, but she tuned them out, completely lost in thought.
Curling in on herself, Taco pulled her knees up to her chest, and she tilted her head down to rest on her arms. The cold breeze blew by her again, raising goosebumps over her body and having her tense up once more to almost will the cold away.
Her arms hugged tighter around her knees, her hands grabbing fistfuls of the sweater’s sleeves on the opposing arm. The soft, pillowy fabric of the sweater that seemed to almost swallow her figure whole despite it not being that big, her rough calloused hands disgracing it in contrast.
She was accepted back into the group a few months or so ago, a lot of things happening since then. After she had knocked on Pickle’s door, the apology went incredibly rocky and downhill at first. However, as she had let Pickle rant out his frustrations and pent up feelings, he was able to actually hear her out and see the genuine emotion in her eyes.
Of course- he still didn’t fully trust her or consider her a friend, obviously, but it was something at least.
Apologizing to Microphone came next, however, that was a bit more difficult as the wounds were-.. still fresh. At first, she simply left a letter in her room on Microphone’s bed, not one of an apology, but one of an offer to hear Taco out with an apology in person, before sneaking out the hotel through Pickle’s window, him looking out for any other of the hotel’s inhabitants to make sure Taco would not get caught.
Mepad had tried following Taco out, however, she didn’t want that. Mepad hadn’t done anything wrong, there was no reason for him to be stuck with her in the woods, alone.
Seeing Taco halfway out the window silently arguing softly with Mepad, Pickle had glanced out the doorway, and had to warn them that their time was almost up at the fact that people were coming up the stairs. At this, Mepad glanced back at Taco, his grip on her hands- when had he grabbed them in the first place?- softening, before letting them go with a defeated sigh.
Pickle sent her off with a wave, and Mepad with a Smile, before Taco jumped down out the window and scaled the building downwards, dashing off into the darkness of the forest.
Afterwards, Microphone had actually sought out Taco, letter in hand, and a hesitant yet stone-faced expression. Taco hadn’t even been able to get out a meek ‘ hello’ before she was tackled by mic into a hug.
Needless to say, it didn’t go as roughly as the one with Pickle did.
It took a lot of convincing from Microphone for Taco to even agree on visits, but a few days later of Microphone sneaking out to just keep Taco company overnight, she was eventually followed out by Knife.
At the sight of him hovering behind Microphone closely had made Taco tense up. Before, she had been able to bravely confront him in front of the others for the fact that one, she was on that weird floaty device and he couldn’t reach her if he tried. Two, he’d get eliminated for stepping off the platform. Three, even when he had many other opportunities, that was before Taco had not cared about- or when Taco had started to care about Microphone and actually confront her humane feelings for the others.
At the moment, with the both of them standing in front of her, Taco had never felt smaller and weaker.
Taco had clasped her hands together behind her back to hide the trembling within her fingertips, staring at Knife with feigned confidence. After a long talk, Knife had basically been almost the same as Pickle, if not harsher.
Their nights of Taco and Microphone hanging out had now been accompanied by Knife, who said it was to make sure Microphone was safe. Taco couldn’t even blame him, as she would have done the same.
Eventually, Pickle had also followed suit. It had been awkward to no end for Taco at first, tension being able to be cut with a knife- no pun intended. She had to keep an air of distance between her and the others, a polite distance of familiarity. Soon enough, she found herself able to relax slightly- at least by a little bit.
It was only when, one day, Taco had a slip-up when Microphone had grabbed her wrist.
All over her body were scars, wounds, bruises, anything. Years of living in the forest doesn’t really do wonders for your body, and it was something Taco had become increasingly insecure of.
Scars. Wounds. Reminders. Her body was disgusting, she hated the scars, the permanent reminders of shame that littered her arms, legs, and a few on her chest, collarbone, anywhere. Her calloused hands that had once been soft, now serving as a constant taunt that she could never get rid of or forget about.
Her right eye specifically, a giant scar that broke apart in crack-like streams down the one side of her face, bruising still evident there, her vision blurrier in that eye. She had re-parted her wavy hair as best as she could, partially covering that side of her face.
When Microphone had grabbed Taco’s wrist, her objective to pull her over to another area that her, Knife, and Pickle were heading to for fun, a strong hiss came from Taco’s mouth, as she violently flinched back as pinpricks of pain shot up her arm to her head.
Immediately, Microphone dropped Taco’s hand, and the girl in question had quickly swiped her hand to her chest, cradling her wrist over the worn-out jacket she wore.
Taco was now left in a very uncomfortable situation, Microphone staring at her hesitantly with her hand half-outstretched, Pickle looking alarmed, Knife narrowing his eyes- his gaze zero-ing in onto Taco’s wrist.
Clearing her throat, doing her best to not hunch in on herself as her hand grasped with the sleeve of her left arm, clenching the fabric tightly as she had immediately pressed about the other spot in the forest, ignoring the thick tension in the air. Walking ahead of the group, leading the way with the confident yet shaky, “I know the forest like the back of my hand,” she could feel their stares drilling into the back of her head.
It had been later on that Microphone suggested Taco possibly coming back to the hotel, with the others staring at her with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Microphone simply put her hands up in a defensive way, stating how she never said she had to tell anyone, a small gremlin smirk finding its way onto her face.
From then on, of course, it took a lot of convincing, but it had been after Taco almost collapsed from dehydration that Pickle himself picked her up with no struggle whatsoever, and carried her back to the hotel, Microphone and Knife in tow.
It had only taken a week of Microphone hiding Taco in her room before OJ found out. Rinse, wash, repeat, a lot of talking, a lot of talking, and convincing, before he had allowed Taco to stay- surprised at Knife of all people- especially Pickle, coming to Taco’s defense.
Of course, he had announced it to the whole hotel afterwards, most of the season one contestants being on edge, and confused, keeping their distance- with most of the season two ones just being hesitant at first, the season three ones just thoroughly confused on who she even was.
Now that Taco wasn’t being hidden, the poor shabby attempts of patching up her wounds could now be properly addressed by someone who was more skilled with this. With proper medical equipment now at their disposal, Mepad and someone named Tissue could probably help fix her up at least a bit- but the idea of someone seeing everything, every scar, every struggle, just- everything- was more unpleasant than anything she could even imagine.
Microphone, during the week of her hiding Taco in her room, helped Taco out here and there when it came to washing the grime off of her skin and out of her hair. By helped, she just instructed her on what to do, which bottle to use, etcetera, all from outside the room. The last thing Taco would do, would be to let someone see her scars. However, when it came to the facial wound she suffered from the gem in the cave, she had Mepad come into the room and tend to it. Thankfully, there were no infections yet- somehow, and that had made the healing process way easier.
At one point, Taco had to lean backwards over the bathtub in Microphone’s bathroom, still wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a towel around her shoulders, Mepad addressing the wounds on her face with Microphone holding her hair back and scrubbing the dirt and grime out of it like there was no tomorrow. Constantly detesting it however, claiming she could do it herself, and she was met with a cold glare from both Mepad and Microphone, forcing her to accept the care and affection that was being given.
Near the end of it, with a newly placed bandage over her eye, and lots more wrapped around the still-open wounds near the crack-shaped scars on the right side of her face, effectively covering it for the time being.
Her hair after being washed was also at least three shades lighter, going from an almost light brunette to a dirty blonde, and the overwhelming relief from not feeling mud or dirt stick within her scalp almost made her cry.
But going back to the original point, the prospect or idea of someone seeing everything almost made Taco want to go back into the forest, so she tended to all the other wounds herself.
With medical tips given from both Mephone and Tissue, and the thankful circumstance that the current open wounds weren’t too serious, they were finally starting to heal. She had to throw out the worn out jacket, and the baggy shirt and pants she wore, as they were beyond repair.
Microphone had let Taco wear her clothes for the time being, but seeing as Taco would have to roll up the pant-legs several times to just even be able to not have them drag on the floor, they were definitely too big. It was almost comical how the fabric practically swallowed her whole, if it weren’t for the fact that she was really tiny. Not just heightwise, but she was definitely skinnier than what would be considered healthy.
When Lightbulb had come into the room at one point with Microphone having Taco try on clothes to see which ones could fit her best, she said something about ‘a girls night’ and ran out to grab Suitcase and bring her into the room too. This was how they found out Taco’s size was probably closest to Suitcase’s, with the brunette only being a few inches taller than Taco. As they had her try on the other girl’s clothes, Suitcase’s sweater and sweatpants still seemed giant on Taco, but it still fit nicely.
This had turned into Suitcase sharing her clothes with Taco- until they could get her new ones.
Everything was going alright for the most part, with Taco and Microphone being able to become friends again- for real this time. Taco and Pickle were still complicated, but it wasn’t anything with animosity, so she counted it as a win. Knife had always looked like he was calculating something in his head when it came to Taco, always seemingly dissecting her mannerisms and her behavior, something akin to concern almost, almost.
Apparently, there was a party coming up for the habitants of the hotel, just something to relax and have fun with. It was supposed to be relaxing, so how did Taco end up here?
She hugged her arms tighter, Suitcase’s sweater soft against her scarred skin. Her body was long numb by now from the cold air, the chill having seeped deep into her bones.
It had stemmed from a dress that the kind brunette had given her, one that was genuinely just pretty. It slid off the shoulders, with a bunch of frills and a somewhat puffy skirt. It was cute. But it wouldn’t look right on Taco. Her collarbone would be entirely exposed, along with her arms, and her legs. Horrifying scars stretching across every limb.
Taco had given Suitcase a quick apology, saying she felt sick and wouldn’t attend the party for the night, and had handed her back the dress. The concerned brunette had glanced down at Taco, worriedly hovering over her about her health, to which she had to reassure her that she was fine.
Now here she was, hunched over at the riverbank not too far from the hotel, but far enough where she could guarantee that she wouldn’t be bothered.
Staring into the water, she gazed at her right eye, a feeling of fear and disgust settling deep into the depths of her heart, threatening to crawl up and consume her whole. The green in her eye had still been prevalent, if not duller, with the swelling around it going down by a lot. The bleeding parts had now turned into freshly-new sensitive scars, something that made Taco’s nails dig into her arm through her sweater’s sleeve.
Footsteps from the distance slowly approached, but her focus was more or so fixed on the water in front of her, reflecting the disgust that had shown within the depths of Taco’s eyes.
It was only when the person had stood above Taco from the ground, and when they sat down next to her, did she acknowledge their presence.
With a slight turn of her head, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Mepad, the black haired man not wearing his usual blue and purple mask. The tension seeped out of her shoulders slightly, as she averted her gaze straight ahead, towards the water in front of them, with the moon glistening overhead it all.
“The moon is quite breath-taking, isn’t it?” he finally spoke up, after a few moments of silence.
Taco cleared her throat, after a few hours of being silent and not talking, her voice was slightly off as she spoke, “I suppose it is.”
Mepad glanced at her from the corner of his eye, hands clasped in his lap as he sat in the criss-cross position. He seemed to be normal, but from the slight tension between his brows, and the worry within his eyes, Taco could tell that he knew something was amiss.
“Lightbulb seems to be full of.. energy tonight,” he carefully worded, a slight chuckle making its way up from his throat, “she was so into all of the dancing that she almost knocked over the table..”
A small smile lightened up Taco’s features a bit, huffing out a breath of amusement. Lightbulb had been very excited for the past few days for the party, it was only inevitable with her hyper energy that she’d get a little out of hand.
At the thought of the party once more, Taco’s smile faded as the hug around her knees tightened once more, slightly.
“Taco,” Mepad softly said.
There it was.
“Hm?”
“Is.. something-” the black-haired man had spoken, hesitating for a moment, “is something the matter?”
Taco had gone silent, unsure of what to say. Was something wrong? Yes, and no. Did she want to think about it? Of course not. Did she want to try to even put it into words? Oh, that’s a funny joke.
Yeah, no.
“Judging from your silence, there is something wrong, isn’t there?”
Taco’s breath hitched, coming up with a quick rebuttal, “No-.. I was just thinking of what to say.”
“Well,” Mepad started, tilting his head to stare at the girl next to him directly, “If you have to think of what to say to a question as.. simple, as ‘are you okay,’ then there is definitely something- at least, to my knowledge when it comes to you- wrong.”
“What are you trying to say, Mepad?” Taco asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
With an equally- if not more, deadpan stare, Mepad replied swiftly, “You have a tendency to keep a lot of concerning problems to yourself, so if the average person were to be asked if they were alright, usually, they could reply right away. However, with your silence, and the fact it’s coming from you, you clearly have something amiss but you don’t want to say anything abou-”
“Alright, alright-” Taco interrupted, uncrossing her arms, her legs unfolding from her chest, “I get it, goodness me,” she mumbled the last part exasperatedly.
A somewhat uncomfortable silence now took place, as Taco fidgeted with the sleeves of the sweater, her body unnervingly rigid and still. Mepad had sat there patiently, silently staring directly at Taco.
“..You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“Does that mean that there is something wrong, then?”
Taco just groaned in annoyance, holding her head in her hands, with a very innocent looking Mepad, staring at her with a faint hint of amusement beyond the concern in his face.
“It’s really nothing, Mepad,” Taco finally spoke.
“Why aren’t you with the others, then?”
“Just wanted some fresh air.”
Mepad just raised an eyebrow, with Taco purposefully avoiding his gaze, looking off to the side where the waters were.
“You have been out here for quite a while now..” he hesitantly said, looking back towards the river, his eyes gazing at Taco through his bangs, “if you were just getting some fresh air, why have you not gone back inside yet?”
“Well, aren’t you just full of questions tonight?” she quipped sarcastically.
“You have been acting odd recently. I am concerned,” Mepad spoke oh so bluntly and honestly.
Taco’s hands simply fell from her lap, falling into the grass. She sunk her hands into the soft ground, playing with the green blades, tension etching its way onto her features. Just as she was about to come up with a defense of some sort, she felt an odd weight take place on top of her hand.
Mepad’s right hand had fallen on top of her left, the warmth from his palm sending goosebumps up her arm, reminding her just how cold she was in the moment.
“You know you can tell me anything..” he paused, “right? As- as your.. friend, I am someone you can come to if you are struggling with something.”
A brief, suffocating silence took place. His hand was so gentle with hers, his thumb rubbing back and forth along her knuckles and her hand, along all the scars, like there was nothing wrong with it.
“How does it not bother you..?” Taco asked, her voice almost at a whisper.
Mepad leaned over, trying to catch Taco’s gaze, “What do you mean?”
Speaking so softly, hearing the utmost care and concern in his voice, the dam broke. She ducked her head low as her body started to shake, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Taco could hear the silent gasp in alarm from Mepad, as he fretted over her for a moment, unsure of what to do.
“All-” Taco managed to utter out, her voice cracking as she hiccuped, “all of it-! Everything I’ve done- the damage- the scars- just- me!”
At this, she felt a hand make its way up onto the right side of her face, cradling it gently. The other hand swept her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.
“Taco, please look at me.”
Exhaustedly leaning into the hand cupping her face, she tilted her head in Mepad’s direction, struggling for a moment before looking him in the eye.
Mepad’s eyes were full of nothing but concern, and care. Not a single ounce of disgust anywhere to be seen. In fact, not even having to squint or look hard enough, it was visibly obvious that Mepad was also on the verge of tears. The hand that had tucked the hair behind her ear now rested on her other cheek, Mepad cradling her gently as if she were something that was precious- or something that wasn’t a disastrous monster.
“Why would any of that bother me? At all?” he pressed, his thumbs gently swiping away the tears that flowed down her face.
“I hurt people- I just-..” she trembled, glancing down at his chest and refusing to meet his gaze.
“And you apologized. They forgave you- or are currently trying to. You’re not the same person you were back then.”
“I’m hideous.”
Taco had ushered out with such animosity, her shoulders shaking. She felt Mepad’s hands slowly, yet firmly raise her head to look up at him. She was almost taken aback by the sheer shock on his face, as if she had said something outrageous.
“You’re beautiful,” he softly spoke, looking Taco directly in the eye, “I do not know why you mentioned your scars earlier, because they are stunning- just like you.”
“They’re ugly..” Taco mumbled, sniffling as she tried to get herself together.
“In your opinion, sure, but your opinion is wrong.”
Taco huffed out a small laugh, Mepad’s face softening at this. He gently wiped the tears off of her face, and continued to just sit there with her in his hands. A fond and disgustingly soft smile was present on his features, something that thoroughly confused Taco.
“I just- don’t understand what you’re seeing,” Taco sniffled, looking exhausted, “I- I hate looking at them- they’re-...”
Her voice trailed off, her eyes avoiding Mepad’s, as she looked at the ground. She could feel Mepad’s fingers on the right side of her face gently tracing the scar for a moment, before he spoke up.
“May I see your hands for a moment, Taco?”
“I don’t know why you’d want to see them, and I don’t think you would..” her voice trailed off, confidence in her tone long gone now.
“Do not think I would..?” Mepad continued, his hands slightly dropping from her face to her shoulders.
Taco couldn’t say anything. Her hands were bundled up within the sleeves, making it impossible to see them. At this, Mepad gently took ahold of the sleeve, the both of them now sitting facing the other, waiting for Taco’s response.
“They’re- not exactly pleasant to look at, Mepad.”
“In your opinion, again, sure, but in reality- what is and what is not ugly, is not a universally decided thing, what you may think looks weird may look normal for someone else.”
“Scars aren’t pretty.”
Mepad shook his head, holding her hands firmly from over her sleeves, “The stories behind them are not. Not the scars themselves.”
“They’re reminders of- of all of everything..” she muttered.
“They are not reminders, they are proof that you survived.”
When Taco didn’t respond, as she simply looked up at Mepad, eyes shimmering with possible tears once more, Mepad’s hands slid to the edge of the sleeve.
“If it is alright with you..” he spoke softly, still holding her hands almost.
Taco just glanced off to the side, before pushing her hands through her sleeves, them now resting directly in Mepad’s hold. She felt Mepad let go of her right hand, but both of his now having their full attention on her left.
The short silence felt like an eternity for Taco, her heart hammering through her chest.
“Taco.”
She turned her head slightly in acknowledgement.
“Look at me, please.”
Once again, she glanced up at Mepad, absolutely terrified. But once again, not a single ounce of disgust was shown in his eyes, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern, a small smile on his face.
“These-” he said, lifting up her hand slightly, “are not ugly. You know what I think?”
“What..?” Taco hesitantly asked, her voice small.
Mepad simply raised her hand up to his face, and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“I think they are pretty.”
Taco’s face was slightly red from the action, and Mepad’s wasn’t fairing any better. However, not once did he drop Taco’s gaze, her hand still close to his face, gently in his hold. She couldn’t say anything, completely speechless.
“There is nothing wrong with this hand, in my opinion, a few scratches don’t deem it ugly,” Mepad carefully put her hand down, now holding the other.
He glanced at Taco from the corner of his eye, before looking back towards her other hand, turning it around as if he were looking for something. After a few moments, he sighed, a smile on his face, looking Taco in the eyes.
“It is just as I thought,” he spoke, a teasing tone underneath his words, “there is nothing wrong with this hand either. You know, you scared me for a moment, you had me thinking there was something actually wrong with your hands,” he spoke, feigning seriousness, poking her face, “shame on you.”
This brought a small giggle out of Taco, before a genuine laugh as Mepad kept poking her face, her hand swatting his away. He stopped the poking, and gently held her other hand, pressing another kiss to the knuckles that were bruised, and a kiss to the center of the back of her hand- where a giant scar stretched across.
“I think they are all beautiful,” he smiled directly at Taco, lowering their hands and interlocking them, “they show how strong you are.”
“I’m weak for having them in the first place,” Taco hesitantly protested, eyes glossy, face flushed red.
Mepad’s shoulders slumped slightly, staring at Taco with a wounded expression on his face, “Taco, please stop degrading yourself..”
A weak chuckle came from the girl in question, “It’s difficult to not do so when there’s not much to compliment to begin with.”
“Not much to- Taco are you hearing yourself right now? You are the most beautiful girl I know!” Mepad exclaimed, disbelief heavily evident in his tone, “You- you are stunning..”
Taco simply stared up at him in shock, her cheeks burning with more vibrant shade of red than before. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, she almost wondered if Mepad could hear it.
Almost, because she knew for a fact he could definitely feel the pulse from her hands.
Not being able to form words, she struggled for a moment, opening and closing her mouth. Uncertainty shone in her eyes, frustration clear in the furrow of her brow, as she just gave Mepad a defeated look.
Giving her hands a comforting squeeze, he softly spoke up once more, “There are so many things about you that are amazing, Taco. Genuinely.”
“Forgive me, but it’s just- difficult to believe something like that..” she muttered.
“That is what just shocks me,” Mepad started, “for example, your eyes.. they are so vibrant and gorgeous, especially with the moon shining on them like this. The best way I can describe it is like looking at those really gorgeous pieces of emerald jewelry, and even that description alone comes nowhere close to even doing them justice! The fact that you somehow do not like them is not only an insult to my incredibly good taste,” he paused as Taco snickered a bit, “but an insult to you. That’s what’s unacceptable.”
Taco just embarrassedly huffed, “They can’t be that pretty.. they’re a boring shade of green. I don’t understand what is so ‘enamouring’ about them..”
“Your eyes make me happy to look at. They are pretty,” Mepad said matter-of-factly, a small blush creeping onto his face as his shoulders hunched up a bit, “whether you think so or not- they are beautiful.”
Taco huffed out a small nervous, bashful laugh as Mepad continued on, “Your voice is soothing to listen to, your laugh is adorable,” he spoke low, leaning closer towards her, “there is a lot honestly, and a few scars won’t change that. ”
Mepad, now being merely just a few inches away from Taco’s face, tilted his head downwards at her, sending a soft reassuring smile. Taco’s eyes once again glistened with tears, her lip wobbling as she struggled to keep her composure together, Mepad raising his hands once more to wipe the tears from her face.
“Even your tears are beautiful, everything about you is.”
“Even with this ugly gash on my face?” Taco let out a wet chuckle with a wobbly smile taking place.
Mepad’s breath hitched for a moment, before answering, “Yes,” he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her face, right where the scar was, “even with the scar on your face,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “your scars are a part of you.” A kiss on her eyebrow, “That’s what makes them beautiful.”
He pulled back slowly, staring into Taco’s eyes. She looked shocked, flustered, and nervous all at once, her eyes wide with disbelief. His gaze drifted down to her lips, where her eye scar stretched downwards to and slightly nicked the top lip. Mepad leaned in closer for a moment, glancing up towards Taco, her eyes flashing with uncertainty for a moment before she closed them.
He then closed the gap between them, this time pressing a kiss to her lips. Taco’s hands rested against his chest, her hands trembling ever so slightly. Mepad’s hands drifted from her face, with one behind her head, and one circling around her waist, almost pulling her into his lap. Taco’s arms wrapped around his neck, pressing deeper into the kiss.
Another kiss on her lips, then another, then Mepad pressed one to the corner of her mouth, one on her forehead, eyebrow, one on her cheek, the kisses trailing down to her chin, pressing one to the scar on her neck before reconnecting their lips once more, Taco tilting her head inwards, arms wrapped around his shoulders with one hand playing with his hair distractedly.
Both arms wrapped around Taco’s waist, he pulled back, staring into her eyes. Now sitting in his lap, and processing what just happened, her face flushed, almost falling backwards if it weren’t for Mepad’s hold onto her waist.
Opening her mouth to say something, she closed it immediately as she couldn’t get any words out, heart hammering in her chest a thousand beats per second. She looked up towards Mepad, his face equally red, before ducking her head into the crook of his neck, hiding.
“Are-” Mepad stuttered out, clearing his throat, “are you- feeling, alright?”
Taco nodded her head, not trusting words to have her back right now.
“I did not go too far with.. anything, right?” he quietly asked, worry evident in his voice.
Taco immediately leaned back to stare him in the face, “No-! Not- Not at all.. I-” she paused, unsure of what to say, “didn’t mind.. it.”
Mepad let out a small sigh of relief, a bit of tension dropping from his shoulders. It went silent after that, Taco glancing down towards her hands that Mepad had now been holding, his arms no-longer around her waist.
“I meant it when I said it,” he spoke up after a bit, “you being stunning and beautiful- both inside and out. It- It sounds cheesy and I know that, but it’s the truth.”
Taco kept her gaze on their hands, before lifting her head up towards Mepad’s, his gaze meeting hers as well. She hesitated for a moment, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek, her forehead resting against his, a small smile on her face.
“I’ll try to see what you see, Mepad.”
