Delicacy. Purity. Fragility. This is what sets you apart amidst the filth and hatred of this whole rotten world, which you believe should not exist. You abhor people. You find solace only in the arms of someone who ceased to be human long ago.

"Be careful..." His dark eyes wandered to your hands, which neatly caught a small rose full of thorns. A white rose. Innocent. Like you.

Unfortunately, a moment's inattention, and a drop of blood ran down your pale skin, creating a poetic contrast. As if that same drop had just fallen into the snow... Ghost gently grabbed your hand and kissed the wound. His lips were covered with scarlet red. You did not say a word. Because you didn't have to. He was always like that. You were, too, by the way.

Two strange beings with porcelain hearts.