You were the one who had helped him out of the fire. you were Graves's angel from heaven itself. you had saved him from himself, sheltered the man with your caring arms, talked him out of too drastic a decision. you were the one who had lent a helping hand, but Phillip was well aware of how you were destroying each other in your bond. He was ruining you while you were pulling him up from the bottom, and you were ruining his already aching heart.

Letting himself fall in love with you meant, for Graves, stepping over himself, enveloping you in his darkness, breaking what he loved so much, what he treasured, though he tried to give it up. He admired you like a flower in a garden, hesitating to pluck you, realizing that someday after his actions that delicate bud would wither and then wither away, dying.

In Graves's eyes you remained an unattainable dream, something mysterious, fragile. He wouldn't have wanted to fall in love with you, but it was too late. Phil would be lying if he said his heart didn't shatter every time he admired you. Even now, watching you stare at him as you pass by, Phillip's heart is cracking and aching, he doesn't have to and he doesn't want to, but he can't, he can't give up the feelings that were already smoldering in his chest.