#i'm......sorry

But also-

@dancingforcoins

Love is patient, love is kind.

      Of all the verses that he had turned to over the years, no page was as worn from his constant fingerprints as that in Corinthians. He had pondered over it, trying to fit those words into the image he had of his Master. When that failed, for of course it failed – Frollo never uttered the sacred word, much less expressed it – Quasimodo turned his daily reading of those words to his own imagination. He could not be worthy of such a love, and this was something he knew deep in his bones. But still, in his heart of hearts, he continued to dream of it. To read those words and truly understand them.

      And then he met Esmeralda.

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

      Nothing could have prepared him for the night that he learned that his affections were not returned. Perhaps he had the excuse of ignorance, but he still looks back on that night in shame. He was willing to wallow in his own pity at the risk of Esmeralda’s life. To this day, it is the most selfish act he has ever committed. And he thanks God every day that he came to his senses in time.

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

      It baffles him now, how he could have ever thought that Esmeralda’s love wasn’t enough. What greed lay in him to rebuff such a jewel that she so generously laid in his palm? He wishes he could apologize, but he doesn’t want to saddle her with the knowledge that his feelings for her used to be of a different kind. (The fact that Phoebus knows is mortifying enough.) He knows that she would not humiliate him if he spoke of the past, but still, he keeps silent. Let the past lay in the past.

      Because this? This is so much more than he could have dreamed up from that ink and parchment. His best friend, his heart, his entire world, whispers those words to her, and Quasimodo’s heart feels so, so full. Nothing is lacking in that space in his chest, nor in the space between the two of them. This is nothing like what he dreamed. This is better.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth

      He takes her petite hand in his, holds it close to his heart, and smiles.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.