He stared at you when you pulled away, a mixture of confusion and disbelief in his eyes, but no reproach, thank goodness, no reproach.
You waited for him to calm down, not quite sure what to say yourself-- and he did before long: his lips, slightly parted as you had left them, closed to form a rueful smile; the clouds in his eyes gave way to almost tenderness.

"It meant nothing, right?" he asked, with no actual need for an answer.

You couldn't come up with one, anyway.

Smiling at you no less kindly than how he had always been, he nodded a goodbye and turned to leave.

You wondered if he had read the answer from your pain-ridden kiss, or your afflicted face, or your silent hands... You wondered if he had understood your decision even before you realized you had made one.

You left the courts too, soon after-- there was no longer anything to stay for.

It meant nothing, if the world demanded so.

It meant nothing as what you and he had chosen it to mean.

It meant nothing...

Never mind that in your truest intention, and perhaps also his, it meant nothing less than everything.