Hands Of Time | Ezria
His breathing slowed, as tears streamed from Aria's hazel eyes. "No, Ezra don't you dare close you're eyes!" She yelled, clutching his warm hand, which was slowly transforming cold.
He then smiled weakly, but understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.
He brought his hand up to her soft cheek and stroked it, his fingers turning into a blue-ish shade.
He managed to whimper out a small sentence, one sentence that Aria would keep with her for the rest of her life.
"There are all kinds of love in this world, but none of the same love twice," he whispered.