I promise to honor, cherish and protect.

They became friends when they were paired for a group project in biology  in the 10th grade. She was a shy girl, who loved reading and painting. He was the new boy, and strange one, at that. The first thing she noticed about him was his lack of hands – he had prosthetics, hooks actually. But then, she did notice his little dimples and beautiful smile, brown eyes bright with laugh and unruly blonde hair that seemed to have been ruffled by the wind, and she felt ashamed of only noticing his obvious disability. So, she smiled shyly and blushed.

The first thing he noticed about her was the way she quickly looked from his prosthetics to his face, trying not to stare, and, as he smiled brightly, she blushed furiously, smiling shyly in his direction. She had kind eyes, grey, but with a certain spark, as if there was a storm forming behind them, plump pink lips, and jet black curly hair, caught in a ponytail. And she carried a huge book, hugging it, as if it could offer her some protection, shielding her from the outside world.

He spoke first, she was obviously shy, and introduced himself as Henry, apologizing for not shaking her hands. She was a little shocked, but quickly caught up with his joking manner when he winked, and laughed merrily. She said where she was from people used to kiss each other in the face when they first met, at least, if one of them was a woman, and proceeded to do so. Her name was Leonor, and she was from Portugal. Eventually, she let go of the book, and he got the chance to sneak a peek, stating it was the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

She realized she liked him the day she felt comfortable enough to ask him about his lack of hands, positive she wouldn’t hurt him by doing so. They were walking at the beach and she had shivered, so, he offered her his coat, standing there in a t-shirt. It was the first time she saw him short sleeves, and she knew it meant he trusted her.

He realized he liked her when they were sitting outside talking, on a windy day, and he extended his hook to get her hair out of her face, and she didn’t even flinch, something even his mother did sometimes if he did a sudden movement with it. He knew that it meant she trusted him.

She never considered telling him about her feelings – after all he was a great guy, strong, smart and kind, and he was beautiful. A perfect guy like him would never want to date little old boring her. Why would he? Sometimes, she didn’t even understand why he wanted to be her friend. He was always helping her when she struggled with math or physics, always pushing her to let go of her shyness, always imagining the next great thing for them to do together. He was the one who convinced her she was a talented writer. And he was the most determined person she had ever known.

He wanted to tell her how much he cared for her – he knew that in the remote possibility she also cared for him, she would be too shy to tell him so.  He was still afraid of doing it – what if she didn’t like him that way? He longed for giving her a hug, for feeling her, skin against skin, for holding her hand. She was amazing – funny and witty, with an extra-large imagination, and a smile so bright it outshined the sun. She had a soft voice and loved watching people, and was a great personality judger, reading between the lines in all the books, understanding so much more than appearances, always going deeper. She was stunning, with her grey eyes and black hair, and, personality-wise, she was lovely. And she treated him like a normal person, teasing him, helping him when he felt frustrated, laughing at his self-depreciating jokes, looking into his eyes and seeing him for him.

She was afraid one day he would get fed up with taking care of her, afraid one day he wouldn’t want to be held back by her anymore, afraid one day he would get bored of her.

He was afraid one day she would grasp the true meaning of those prosthetics and she would turn her back on him, not wanting him, not wanting someone who was so different, not wanting someone who could never hold her hand, or rub her back. Not wanting someone who had no arms, just two stubs somewhere where his elbows should have been was he what is considered normal.