Which still isn't close enough. Shirogane tugs her up until she's pressed flush against him, letting himself get lost in her scent and her taste, filling in what felt like a seventy year blank space.

He only pulls back when the lack of air becomes a problem, resting his forehead against hers as he traces a finger over her cheek, over her jaw, the line of her nose, her mouth. There wasn't a single crack.