Lyle watched the figure before him. He could feel a slight trembling in Raizel's hands.
Suddenly a twisted sense of pleasure danced in Lyle's heart and he quickly lowered his head in shame.
He could not be fully blamed. It is just that he had never felt that the distance between him and Raizel was close.
Even when he was just standing before himself, a part of Lyle had always felt that Raizel was so very far away from him, that he couldn't hold onto him. Another part of Lyle sang with a strong desire for exclusivity, an irrational belief that Raizel belonged to him.
The two conflicting parts were enough to drive an average man crazy. But Lyle was not an average man.
He was a germaphobe that had survived three years in a filthy cell without losing his mind. His self-control was firm, it was not of this word.