Lucy pulls his lips back to hers, kissing him long and slow. He is soft and hesitant, all traces of his usual confidence gone. Taking his face in both of her hands, Lucy trades the first lingering kiss for a second. “It’s okay,” she whispers afterwards, brushing his bangs out of his eyes so that he can see her clearly. “It is, it’s okay.” Lockwood, eyes dark and serious, very slowly reaches out to her, brushing his knuckles lightly along her cheek before pulling her back to him.
Lucy’s world dissolves into whispered reassurances and kisses that are both gentle and filled with electricity.
For all the ways they differ, there is one crucial way in which they are similar. He’s the orphan who locked himself away so he wouldn’t ever have to hurt again, and she’s the statistic whose purpose in life was providing for a family she never saw and barely knew. They’ve both been cheated by life and abandoned by death, left behind to pick up the pieces of what once was.
They’re lonely hearts who found a home in Portland Row, and, just maybe, in each other.
Lucy knows that, were she lucky enough to be given the chance, she would make it her life’s purpose to eradicate all traces of loneliness from his life.