Wordless
WhisperingThey were not romantic. He doesn't buy her flowers—or chocolates, or jewelry, or any sort of gift. He doesn't make some dramatic declaration of love—not in the rain, not during the sunset or under the stars. She was sitting cross-legged on an empty stage, a script in her lap with one earphone in one ear.
He sat next to her. She spared him a smile.
And he took her chin in one hand, tilted her head towards him and...
He kissed her. It was as simple as that.
He kissed her. She kissed him back.
And there are no fireworks.
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