Prodosia

"I- I just..."

The Slytherin was at a loss for words, not noticing tears leaking from his own eyes, clouding the almost-always stoic expression. He did not move from his stiff position, not even so much as shifting when the damp Quidditch uniform clung to his body causing discomfort, not even when feeling a strong longing, for fear that if he did approach, that Lu Lu would move away. All he did was gaze... Gaze with some intense expression between sorrow, desperation, anger, and confusion at oneself, at the younger, hunched over form.

"Can... Can I kiss you?"

As if that would make everything alright.