Arm outstretched, warm fingers reaching, brushing tenderly over cool skin.

Starts by tracing over a scarred eyebrow before travelling down, ghosting fingertips over parted lips

Lingering there for the briefest of moments.

Then travelling down again. Digits delicate against nape of neck… over a collarbone… lightest of touches.

Fingers drifting into the centre of an unmoving pale, bare chest before coming to a rest at a spot over an unbeating heart.

Then a moment, before cold fingers encompass warm, holding them in place.

Brown eyes lock with blue.

A question asked by one…

"Why is it always at arms length?"