[ In the time it takes Claude to respond, Hilda waits, half expecting him to protest or find a way to prolong the inevitable and much needed rest that they both needed. When he continues to leave a trail of kisses in his wake, a part of her wants him to keep dodging it because childishly, selfishly, she wants this moment to last.
She doesn’t want the morning to come because it means grappling with the things she’s put off. It means beginning to examine the twisted knot that her feelings had become and try to untangle them. Or ignore them. The latter seems like the more likely outcome if she’s being honest with herself. What’s the point in untangling them when there wasn’t a use for them anymore? Why expend the effort if it would only result in damaging her relationship with Claude and hurting herself?
Unfortunately he listens to her in the end and her annoyance flares. It isn’t Claude she’s annoyed with though. It’s herself. She’s annoyed for wishing for something so practical into existence and then for feeling that way at all. This isn’t how you laid feelings to rest. This isn’t how you moved on.
But as soon as his arm wraps around her waist, she moves a little bit closer to him, body instinctively wanting to be close. Her hand lingers, unable to remove it from the features of his face that she knows so well. In the same way Claude is studying her face, so too is she studying his. In that brief hesitation as pink eyes meet green, she thinks that he’ll reach in to kiss her again. In the next heartbeat, she knows that she’d let him.
A kiss doesn’t come though. Not every instance of ending up in bed with him was meant to end in a good night kiss and it shouldn't after tonight. She shouldn’t feel so disappointed. She has no right to and she knows that. A brief look of, “Of course I have a point,” flickers to her expression, involving a halfhearted eyeroll and a smile. Her fingers trace the line of his cheekbone, down the shape of his jaw (or maybe beard was more accurate) before they ghost his lips. I can do this, she thinks. How difficult would it be to put her feelings away into a little box and support Claude from afar? She can’t do much but she knows she can at least accomplish that much; she has to.
Finally Hilda offers her own smile in return hoping that it doesn’t look as sad as it feels. ]
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She doesn’t want the morning to come because it means grappling with the things she’s put off. It means beginning to examine the twisted knot that her feelings had become and try to untangle them. Or ignore them. The latter seems like the more likely outcome if she’s being honest with herself. What’s the point in untangling them when there wasn’t a use for them anymore? Why expend the effort if it would only result in damaging her relationship with Claude and hurting herself?
Unfortunately he listens to her in the end and her annoyance flares. It isn’t Claude she’s annoyed with though. It’s herself. She’s annoyed for wishing for something so practical into existence and then for feeling that way at all. This isn’t how you laid feelings to rest. This isn’t how you moved on.
But as soon as his arm wraps around her waist, she moves a little bit closer to him, body instinctively wanting to be close. Her hand lingers, unable to remove it from the features of his face that she knows so well. In the same way Claude is studying her face, so too is she studying his. In that brief hesitation as pink eyes meet green, she thinks that he’ll reach in to kiss her again. In the next heartbeat, she knows that she’d let him.
A kiss doesn’t come though. Not every instance of ending up in bed with him was meant to end in a good night kiss and it shouldn't after tonight. She shouldn’t feel so disappointed. She has no right to and she knows that. A brief look of, “Of course I have a point,” flickers to her expression, involving a halfhearted eyeroll and a smile. Her fingers trace the line of his cheekbone, down the shape of his jaw (or maybe beard was more accurate) before they ghost his lips. I can do this, she thinks. How difficult would it be to put her feelings away into a little box and support Claude from afar? She can’t do much but she knows she can at least accomplish that much; she has to.
Finally Hilda offers her own smile in return hoping that it doesn’t look as sad as it feels. ]
I’ll be here.