“Fancy clipped a scrap of newsprint to her canvas and wrote, I don't have friends.Ilan's hand covered hers briefly as he plucked the charcoal from her hand and wrote beneath her words, you have me.”

“When Fancy still didn't answer, he took her hand, and with his red paintbrush, he wrote 'please' into her palm.”

“In the haunted shade of the Ateneo, her hands wrote a curse on my skin that was to hound me for years.”

“And I'm moved, it's so beautiful. Not what I wrote, but to have it given back like this. To have her remember the words and the tune. To hear it in her voice.”

“He sat across from her and took her small hands in his own. "Babe, you don't have to carry the world. I've got it, okay?”

“What are you thinking?She smiled.I think you can figure it out. You can read the writing on the wall.And as she said it, there was writing on the wall. It appeared slowly, one word at a time.You'renottheonlyonefalling.It wrote itself out, in the same curling black script as the rest of the room. Lena's cheeks flushed a little, and she covered her face with her hands. "It's going to be really embarrassing if everything I think starts showing up on the walls.""You didn't mean to do that?""No."You don't need to be embarrassed, L.I pulled her hands away.Because I feel the same way about you.”