“What are you doing?” 

He asked, a hint of his smarm and humor faded as he spoke. 

It was a simple question. One with an equally simple answer. I'm used to answering such things. Straightforwardness is what I take pride in. 

But what I lacked and regretted, was when the questions were directed to my heart. 

It was much like now. 

I didn't have the courage to answer the half-devil. I just couldn't. 

My fingers were firmly grasping his palm. He wasn't moving one inch. His stillness at times terrified me. A testimony to his inhuman body. One that I would have worshipped. I still do. He held the blood of our God, our Savior. And here I was, crossing that line in my own belief to understand a devil. One that, more than likely, would laugh at my confession. 

But I couldn't care. 

I could feel the heat between us. So maybe like the blood in my veins, he could feel it too. My admittance. My guilt and shame. My adorance and love. 

I loved him. 

I love you, Dante. 

And whether or not you believe me, I do not mind not care. Even if this one sided affection may scar my esteem. The truth is I love you. 

That won't change. 

I felt my cheeks warm as I brought his barely gloved hand to my lips. The the middle of his palm met my kiss and I could feel his pale blue eyes on me. 

What was he thinking? That worry threatened to make me stop. But I pressed on. Slowly, letting his hand cup my face. Rather, I held his hand against my face. 

What were you thinking Dante? I feared to look at his expression. I didn't dare. Somewhere in the corner of my mind I was shaking myself enough as is. 

So with what little audacity I had left, I uttered the words true to my heart and to his question: 

“I promise, to no one, not to Sparda, to the Order, that I won't leave you. I Credo, won't leave you, Dante.”

My eyes opened but all I saw was the half devil’s body. Not his face. I wanted to look up but dear weighed my eyes down. 

Laugh. 

Smirk. 

Chuckle even. 

Hit me with a quip. 

Anything but silence. 

Yet it carried on as we both say in this position with my heart exposed. I knew my face was beat red but I couldn't do much to hide that. I did it to myself. So, with a heavy heart, I swallowed what pride I had left and looked into the face of the crimson clad man. I just wish I hadn't done it so sheepishly. 

Dante’s face. 

It was …..