Their interlaced fingers, and Taras's face that Le An could now look at so closely, had become perhaps the only routine that scattered the stillness weighing on him for days.
Each minute passing with him was the only thing squeezing Le An's heart now.
When Taras tightened the joints of his fingers against his own, Le An raised his head, and, just as he had grown used to in recent days, he began to transfer his guiding energy to him more strongly, without saying anything.
It was as if, after that misunderstanding had been cleared up, the dark clouds that didn't even have a name yet had finally lifted from between them.
The fact that the one who had tried to kill him was not Taras brought Le An relief, and to Taras as well, it brought a strange calm.
Taras, on the other hand, had recently developed the habit of listening to Le An's heartbeat whenever they weren't speaking.
