What the Mask Hides

She had the pistol pointed at his head.
Her head was low, not making eye contact.

Her heart and mind were spinning.
Thoughts. Emotions. Oh, which one to listen to?

Before she could decide, he stepped forward and lowered her gun with his right hand and instead let her hold it at his heart. She grew tense at his touch but didn't stop him. He used his free hand to gently grip her chin to lift her gaze to his.

She met his soft gaze with her hard one.

He did this to himself.
He destroyed himself when she would've been willing to do it together.
Together.

She released the safety trigger.

And he smiled.
The damn boy had the nerve to smile.