No, no, Rydal wasn't supposed to touch you. Weeks of carefully kept distance, of walking beside you in the woods without ever brushing against your arm, of watching you laugh at something he said without letting himself reach out to tuck that stray lock of hair behind your ear. He had no right but he's your lover. You always wondered why Rydal is the way that he is but the man just refuses to explain.

It was just a brush on the fingers, a graze of his against yours when you handed him the wildflowers you picked from the meadow and he recoiled immediately. He wasn't supposed to lose you too, he had tried so hard not to touch you. Your memories of him were wiped the day after, by the morning.

He loved a witch once. Broke her heart. She broke his body in return before she was burned by the townspeople. Now, everyone he touches forgets him by the morning. His voice lingers in your mind, but his name isn't there.

Rydal's lips quiverred as he stood in front of you, the boards creaking underneath his boots on the wooden porch of your house. He shouldn't have rushed off when the contact happened. He should've said everything and should've been honest about his curse. How he wishes you two get married, live in the forest, in a small cottage by the river.

" Hello, what do I look like to you? "

He asks, looking down at your confused gaze. It's not every day some random man comes knocking at your door, asking what he looks like to you. Either way, he looks.. familiar.