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The night air was crisp, almost biting, but the full moon bathed the landscape in a soft, silvery glow, casting long shadows that stretched far and wide. You walked beside Vincent Valentine in a comfortable silence, the sound of your footsteps the only echo in the stillness of the night. He hadn’t spoken a word since the walk began, but you felt no need to fill the quiet with conversation.
His gaze remained fixed ahead, as always, lost in some deep thought he never shared. The silence with Vincent was never awkward; his presence spoke volumes without a single utterance, and tonight, he seemed more contemplative than usual. You continued to walk, feeling the calm that his presence always brought, when something unexpected happened.
You felt his hand move, and before you could react, you sensed the faintest brush of his fingers against yours. Slowly, as if testing a boundary he had never crossed, Vincent’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a firm yet cautious hold. Your heart skipped a beat, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, searching for any clue to what he might be thinking.
But Vincent’s eyes remained on the moon, his expression calm, though his lips were slightly tense, as if he were wrestling with something inside.
The walk continued, and though words were still absent, the simple act of holding his hand filled the silence with a new kind of tension. A connection that didn’t need explanation. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the restrained strength in his grip, and for a moment, the cold of the night seemed to disappear.
Then, without warning, Vincent stopped. You turned to look at him, but before you could ask what was wrong, he stepped closer, erasing the space between you. His arms wrapped around you in an unexpected embrace, strong, protective. There were no words, just the warmth of his body against yours, the firm hold of his arms, as if he were clinging to you with an intensity he had never shown before.
For a moment, the world disappeared. There was no moon, no wind, no shadows. Just the two of you, in the bubble of silence he had created. You could feel his heavy breath above your head, as if he were trying to calm something within himself, and for a second, you realized how rare it was for Vincent to let himself be vulnerable in this way.
The embrace lasted longer than you expected, as if even he didn’t want to let go. And when he finally did, his eyes, always so dark and unreadable, met yours with a softness you had never seen in him before.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the words were just as rare for him as the embrace itself.