The pen pauses over the lined paper for just a moment and she glances up to look for the disturbance. He slides the door shut behind him, offering a sheepish smile in apology; she gives him a welcoming one in return.

"I don't have anything with me," he says, running a hand through his hair. He shifts uneasily on his feet in the door way, but she doesn't mean to make him uncomfortable.

"Just that you're here is enough," she replies quietly, tilting her head. Her smile is gentle, but her gaze is cloudy. He knows he's distracted her, but he doesn't realize it's a welcome distraction. "I was making a mistake."

He finally works up the courage to take a few steps toward her.

"You've been distracted lately," he tells her, tugging on a stray lock of hair. It's a nervous gesture that causes her to smile to become melancholy.

"I don't mean to be," she answers, pulling on his jacket with her free hand to straiten it. The jerks bring him an unwilling few steps closer. He looks worse for wear and she realizes it's been a long time since she had seen him. "You're someone who is always welcome."

"I was worried," he said softly, resting a hand against her cheek.

"I'm afraid you weren't the only one this time," she says, clasping his hand gently as she turns back to the lined page.

He links his fingers through hers and she begins to turn to a new page. He wraps himself around her, resting his chin on her shoulder with his mouth near her ear. Still, she almost doesn't hear him when he breathes, "I was afraid I was too late."