it’s literally all about the gentleness, the utter tenderness with which lawrence and adam hold one another even with all that chaos in their wake. it’s about lawrence’s hands, the same hands that picked up the gun, the same hands that sent a bullet into adam’s shoulder, wrapping around adam’s arm to pull him down to lawrence’s level, cupping adam’s face. it’s about adam’s hands, covered in the blood of the man he just killed, gripping lawrence’s shirt, pulling him closer by his shoulder and pressing their foreheads together. it’s about this moment being framed with said body between them as the whole world seems to narrow down to just the two of them. it’s about the contrast, the violence offset by the way they cling to each other and the tenderness offset by the visual evidence of death and destruction around them. it’s about hands that can cause so much damage being used to comfort, to hold. an embrace saturated with blood but an embrace either way. and maybe the blood makes it mean more. maybe