[ One day, perhaps, he'll be able to accurately express the effect you have on him when the two of you are like this: him curled up against you, your breath warm over his head, your lips close, your voice washing over him, pushing the shadows away.
He realizes, belatedly, that he's letting his fingers trace the length of your arm. Back and forth, like subconsciously, he has to be sure that you're even here, with him. That you're even real in the first place. ]
You really do like to aim impossibly high, don't you?
[ It's a weak attempt at humor, but hell, he has to try. (And maybe what will really shine through is the gratefulness behind it. The things he can't quite say out loud just yet.) ]
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He realizes, belatedly, that he's letting his fingers trace the length of your arm. Back and forth, like subconsciously, he has to be sure that you're even here, with him. That you're even real in the first place. ]
You really do like to aim impossibly high, don't you?
[ It's a weak attempt at humor, but hell, he has to try. (And maybe what will really shine through is the gratefulness behind it. The things he can't quite say out loud just yet.) ]