She was drawn to him.

Like a predetermined destiny she had no control over

He was her Pandora’s box. She opened him up gently, carefully unwrapping his delicate layers then sat back to gleam at his beauty

He hid from her, thinking his person was broken and bent out of repair. As if he was not worthy of love, not worthy of connection.

She only saw perfection. The seventh wonder was held in his eyes and a abandon world of enchantment in his soul.

How could he not see it? How could he hate himself, his perfection that much?

He would spend his whole life figuring out why she stayed beside him, and she would spend her whole life trying to make him see it.