He could smile, but I liked when he didn't.
When he pursed his lips on a word and his eyes gazed wistfully at the world.

He could laugh, but I liked when he held back.
When a smile pulled his lips and laughter danced in muddy irises. When the sound rumbled and died somewhere in his chest so my ears wouldn't be fortunate enough to listen and my heart unlucky enough to flutter.

He held my hand, but I liked when he dropped it. When the warmth swift and sudden vanishes like an uplifted burden.

He stared at me, but I liked when he stared at...