His flimsy singular heart is bursting with affection, no, adoration for her, and he’s afraid its rapid beat will never slow down.
"Since when?" she asks breathily, pressing her hands gently into his chest. “Since leather?"
"Yes, I like this on you," he murmurs distractedly.
"No," she giggles, her amused face luminescent in the afternoon sun. “I mean, when you wore it."
"From the beginning, Rose," he confesses, pulling her down into an embrace. His arms clutch her reflexively. “Always."