[ When she feels his lips on hers, the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding is exhaled in relief. Her body knows these lips, knows the shape of them and the way he tastes. Even if she were to go blind every curve of her soul would know it was him.
The affection that had nestled between her ribs and bloomed into love for him would know. Yes, they stand amidst the rubble battered, bruised, eyes red rimmed from tears shed. But the foundation is still sound. Through everything they’ve experienced that has been constant. They could try and rebuild from here. They would try. And hopefully new flowers would bloom from beneath their feet.
As if the thought calls forth the feeling, something else sprouts in her heart. She worries it between her lips before the taste of it settles on her tongue – this is homecoming.
Her arms loop gently over his shoulders drawing him closer, meeting him in the kiss. After a moment she senses the pause, the clear way that he stops himself from going too far. Fearful doubt attempts to spring up. Is this familiarity she feels simply one sided? Should she not have kissed him? What was once a reaction that might have made sense could be anything now. Before she can backslide further into worry she pulls back, resting her forehead against his as a means of disguising her doubt as a need for a breath.
Fingertips brush against his jaw, his lips in apologetic reverence. The swallow of the lump in her throat isn't just to try to sound audible as she speaks; it's an attempt to dispel the dissenting voices in her head. Tears still cling to her lashes and her voice. ]
I'm sorry for hurting you.
[ There's more that she could say, like some sort of explanation for her behaviour. Shame prevents her from admitting again and again that she's just a jealous, petty creature, afraid of being left behind, of being forgotten and possessive over something she thought was hers being taken away from her. It doesn't matter that Claude had already told her he cared for her, negative traits and all; a lifetime of acting one way so people would find that version of her attractive can't be washed away with just one confession.
One apology doesn't absolve her from her wrongdoings. ]
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The affection that had nestled between her ribs and bloomed into love for him would know. Yes, they stand amidst the rubble battered, bruised, eyes red rimmed from tears shed. But the foundation is still sound. Through everything they’ve experienced that has been constant. They could try and rebuild from here. They would try. And hopefully new flowers would bloom from beneath their feet.
As if the thought calls forth the feeling, something else sprouts in her heart. She worries it between her lips before the taste of it settles on her tongue – this is homecoming.
Her arms loop gently over his shoulders drawing him closer, meeting him in the kiss. After a moment she senses the pause, the clear way that he stops himself from going too far. Fearful doubt attempts to spring up. Is this familiarity she feels simply one sided? Should she not have kissed him? What was once a reaction that might have made sense could be anything now. Before she can backslide further into worry she pulls back, resting her forehead against his as a means of disguising her doubt as a need for a breath.
Fingertips brush against his jaw, his lips in apologetic reverence. The swallow of the lump in her throat isn't just to try to sound audible as she speaks; it's an attempt to dispel the dissenting voices in her head. Tears still cling to her lashes and her voice. ]
I'm sorry for hurting you.
[ There's more that she could say, like some sort of explanation for her behaviour. Shame prevents her from admitting again and again that she's just a jealous, petty creature, afraid of being left behind, of being forgotten and possessive over something she thought was hers being taken away from her. It doesn't matter that Claude had already told her he cared for her, negative traits and all; a lifetime of acting one way so people would find that version of her attractive can't be washed away with just one confession.
One apology doesn't absolve her from her wrongdoings. ]