claude von riegan. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
godshattering) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2023-09-10 12:52 pm
godshattering) wrote in abraxaslogs2023-09-10 12:52 pm
[ CLOSED ] the dawn is opening
Who: Claude and various
When: September, October, November
Where: Cadens, Libertas, the Horizon
What: Catch all
Warnings: None currently, will add/mark as needed
( Closed starters below. Find me at ![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
indech, on Discord, or by PM at any time to plot something! )
When: September, October, November
Where: Cadens, Libertas, the Horizon
What: Catch all
Warnings: None currently, will add/mark as needed
no subject
As the seconds go by, however many of them are before she answers, it feels like an eternity. It aches again that he can't guess what's going through Hilda's mind like he wants to believe he could have just a few months ago, even if the reality is it's far longer than that. The reason for it has been made clear in what's been said and what Claude's still guessing at is trailing behind it for what hasn't yet or whether it ever will be. All he can do is wait and try not to look like this is every bit of feeling like he's balancing on an unsteady precipice where the next step could as easily be the ground crumbling to give way rather than being something solid.
But she answers, and then it's too difficult to not do anything but let hope soar and flood in to fill all the spaces between them as he grips her hands a bit tighter. In the next breath it's tempered by the look on her face because that has to account in this, too; there's been mistakes made in all that miscommunication built up from years and here, and that has to be cleared. ]
I've always wanted you, you know. Always wanted us, even when I spent so long thinking you didn't want me.
[ The urge to reach forward to cradle her face is there but Claude runs his thumbs over the backs of Hilda's hands while still studying her. One step at a time, he reminds himself over and over. Admitting that they both want the same thing - it's something which doesn't feel real despite simultaneously feeling like he's committed those words to memory where they shine as brightly as he'd dreamt they would.
But there's the qualifier with them that was added on right away, and there's what follows it. ]
You're not getting in the way of anything. I- whatever it is I have with Sylvain isn't any kind of replacement or whatever else 'getting in the way' might mean. It's something separate and always has been to me, and it doesn't lessen what I feel about you or change it in any way.
[ Because it's that clear, in his mind, though it's not that he expected Hilda to know this. File it under yet another conversation they should've had with all the other ones wrapped up into this one now, though he stills when something finally clicks into place. ]
That's part of why you've been pulling away, isn't it?
no subject
As much as her heart wants to leap at his admission of wanting her as much as she had, her grip holds tight around the ties she's strapped around it for fear of it inflating too full of misguided hope. For all her posturing about how anyone would be lucky to spend time with her, it's all surface level to some degree. A dinner here, a walk through the markets there, stolen kisses and nights turned mornings - none of those things account to anything serious or long term.
She'd marry some day (or, she thinks humourlessly to herself, never, if Holst and her father had any say about their precious flower straying too far from Goneril) and she's under no disillusion that there's some unfortunate scenario that it would be arranged. That's why letting anything go deeper than flirting is impossible for her to imagine with any amount of seriousness. If she did it would probably look like meeting someone's parents like Claude had suggested and that would mean –
That train of thought comes to an immediate halt when Claude manages to lays another piece of their crumbling ruin of a relationship back into place. In repose she nods, immediately averting her gaze away from him. That doesn't stop her hands from returning the squeeze of his hands like he's some lifeline she both needs and doesn't want to need.
His words feel like a double edged sword and don't bring as much comfort as she thinks he intends. Realistically she should be concentrating on the good which, really, all of it is. He's saying the things she's been hoping he would for years. And Claude admitting that he has anything at all with Sylvain without denial or hesitation speaks volumes about how he's changed and grown. It makes her proud. It makes her sick with envy and jealousy. This is exactly what she's been trying to avoid.
She looks at him despairingly, shame stretching across her face. ]
And you might be okay with that, but I don't know if I can be. All I've been feeling is jealousy and guilt. Even now, I can't just be happy for you. I can't even be happy about this. I'm awful.
[ The white noise at the back of her brain begins to make itself known and she begins to pull her hands away from his. ]
I don't want to be selfish anymore. Maybe our time has come and gone, Claude. [ False levity is injected into her voice, the corners of her lips tugging into something resembling a smile. ] But that's okay because these things happen. I'll be a better friend. I just want the both of you to be happy at the end of the day.
no subject
The reality of it hits him full force when Hilda tells him another truth there's no denying. Multiple truths at that, and it's not until his lungs start to burn that he realizes he's held his breath throughout everything she's said. Then he has to process that; it'd feel like the world's worst joke if he only believed she was kidding. It isn't difficult to see she means every word in everything etched in her expression even as she tries to smile, tries to say it'll be fine, and he's too numb to let her do anything but pull away at first. ]
Don't think for a second that would make me anywhere close to happy. [ It feels like there's sand in his throat with each of those words scratching their way out. For once, Claude doesn't overthink what to say when it's clear this is the time for them to be said. ] And if you want me to tell you it's fine and it won't break both of our hearts even further than they've already been, I can't do that either.
[ Because that's the part which is making some increasingly desperate feeling rise in his chest and sink its teeth into everything. There's the faintest wish to rewind time again, but - to where? At what point could he even choose to say it's the right place to prevent them from ending up here with years of the past adding up to this? There are too many moving pieces for even him to track as they've whirled around them both to build one upon another into this.
For one terrible second he wonders if she's right and the time has passed before it's immediately replaced by thinking a simple no. Now isn't the time to let her go if it'll be too late to ever talk about this again if he does and he clears his throat. Even if it's only been a little bit of silence but it feels like they've stretched on for even longer but his mind finally registers the slip of her fingers away from his and Claude squeezes her hands again enough to keep them there in hopes she'll stay. ]
You're not awful because you feel something. And more than that, if you think that changes anything about my feelings then you've underestimated what it is I feel about you. I'm not asking you to change anything about who you are and I never would. That's not why I fell - [ a pause, then a wry and briefly humorless smile because that's the very word that helped add to this before - ] I've fallen for you.
no subject
There are some days she could choke on her lovesick jealousy. Ever since she can recall she's left claw marks in everything she's ever wanted and owned. How is that considered love? Because that's what this feeling is, isn't it? It can never have been anything but love when it's come to Claude. And if so, isn't that what all of this fighting and awful self-awareness has culminated into? Finding a softer way to love no matter what the outcome of that looks like?
Her retreat is met with resistance and her eyes dart from him to their still clasped hands below the water. Despite the loud sound of panic that swells in her head, a part of her faintly thinks that it's probably a good thing that he's held on. Not because she wants him to, but because she's ready to run right out of the tub and back to the loft. Maybe there's still a way she can save them from adding one more to their ever growing pile.
But then he doesn't agree with her. Nor does he tell her that she's awful for nurturing all of this jealousy in her heart, letting it feast on her like some parasite before it had crawled out of her throat to lash out at him that night in the Horizon. When she sees his lips twitch, trying and failing to form humour around the semantics of the word she had misinterpreted for weeks, her lips involuntarily twitch equally humourless. ]
Aren’t you supposed to want me to be better?
[ Better, sweeter, more graceful - anything to just accept he and Sylvain without pang, longing or bitterness on her tongue?
This is the part in her romance novels where the person on the receiving end of similar reassurances surrenders themselves to the person they had been pining for all this time. Instead her heart strains against the lead weights that she's anchored them to. It's not that they don't fill her heart with warmth or chip away at the box that she's built around herself. It’s that after years of convincing herself that her box is only meant to be filled with sweet, expensive, soft things that she’s found herself in the middle of a maelstrom of emotions that are none of those things.
The smile falls, dashed by a bite of her bottom lip as her eyes begin to mist. ]
I’m supposed to be happy for you two. I’m supposed to just walk behind you both cheering you on because that’s where I belong — not wish that it were me. [ Her voice wavers under the weight of the expectation of what it would mean to be responsible for his happiness. To be responsible for holding his heart with the care he deserves. ] I want so badly to make you happy but I’m so scared I won’t be able to because all I’ve done lately is hurt you. There’s no amount of jewelry or apologies I can make for putting you through that.
[ The steps she’s been trying to keep up with in this fumbling, awkward dance come to a halt. ]
And even if we know our feelings now — where do we go from here?
no subject
[ There's nothing about either of those statements he understands, and the frown on his face is genuine as a result. To Claude, it seems in direct opposition to what he'd just said. Both of them could be linked somehow, he supposes, but feel entirely outside of the realm of the love for her as far as he's concerned. Even with all the things he knows about her from all those years of friendship and what'd followed that's known to be not so unrequited as believed for nearly the entirety of the same set of years, even with the months of misunderstanding each other on top of that, if those are real things Hilda believes he'd think about her - there's more that'll have to be explained by how she chooses to answer that.
The mirroring of the forced attempt at any kind of humor doesn't bring him any comfort either, much as he has to guess it didn't for Hilda when he'd tried. At some point, possibly, they might be able to joke about this properly when it feels like an old ache instead of a barely healed wound. It'll take trust being healed between them first on both ends amongst other actions yet to be determined because emotions aren't enough by themselves to make up the difference.
But - it is a start. And that last question, at least, is something Claude does have an answer for. ]
I think we start trying. Actually trying, and at something between the both of us that isn't keeping feelings hidden away. That'd mean not going back to- whatever we could call what things were before. Not because any of it was wrong but because I don't think it's right for us anymore, and I think we start over at the beginning so all the steps we skipped before really do happen this time. Maybe we start with actual dates instead of accidental ones. That's what I want if you do, too.
[ Because that's a qualifier that has to be added - to underscore that he can't ask her to accept something that'd make her unhappy even if (he would hope) that part goes without needing to be said to be true. Now he does let go of one of her hands to lift it out of the water, tentatively telegraphing each move made to give her time to reject him placing it on the side of her face as if to ward away the tears gathering in her eyes. ]
no subject
Aren't I? If I'm not walking behind whoever my future betrothed is at home then I'll be walking behind Holst, cheering him on.
[ There is a third option of course. But that was barred shut behind a door and she had lost the key to it the moment she had witnessed the scalding, gut wrenching disappointment in the wake of the prodigal son's failure.
There's no dramatics, no waterworks or wavering voice. Just a quiet acceptance of predetermined fates for a youngest and only daughter who feared trying. Complacency and fear would never pair well with someone like Claude. A brave Princess of Brigid would. So would a very capable, very kind-hearted heir to Gautier. She's never allowed herself to fathom more of a future with Claude because of lack of seriousness, war, and now her own shortcomings.
It feels like just another reminder that her careless hands are incapable of taking care of his heart. Provides evidence that this wouldn't work. The conclusion is a loud jarring sound that rings out in her head. She barely registers the way he raises his hand to gently cup her face, the reverberations from that awful truth making it suddenly hard to breathe and push tears to the corners of her eyes. It's only belatedly that her brain seems to register what he's saying. Start over from the beginning. Try something new with the hope that it would turn into more. Hope that she had been suffocating for so long that she almost doesn't know how to nurture it again and give it room to grow.
A disbelieving breath meant to be a laugh is pushed from her lungs. ]
You still want to try even though you know I'm jealous of you and Sylvain? And that I might never get over that? [ Old habits die hard and her tone betrays that even she doesn't believe she's capable of that. Her voice breaks and more tears slip. ] And what happens if all our trying doesn't work?
[ The thought of losing someone that had carved his name on her ribcage and held her heart in his hands in any capacity grips her anew. Hilda didn't want to grasp at love turned to dust because of her own doing. She had had her fill of breathing in heartache. This is why she had never tried, never bothered to put much investment in anything more serious than flirting, skin and sheets. ]
no subject
Far more important things are here in front of them with how her expression looks like it could still crumble at any moment until those tears gather. It's impossible for them to not pull at his heartstrings as they always do and he concentrates on gently wiping them away while thinking carefully. There's the first thing he wants to say on instinct and then possibly what he should stop to think about saying instead. The initial thought is honesty, potentially more of it than either of them have ever exercised outside of this very conversation where so much of it that's been overdue has come to pass. This won't be the end of it, he's certain, and maybe that's what he needs to keep in mind.
When his answer doesn't seem to change no matter how much he thinks about it, Claude offers her a smile fleetingly tinged with no small amount of sadness. ]
What's the alternative then, that we don't try at all? I think we already know what that looks like, too. [ There's no chiding in that; as far as Claude's concerned it's another fact about everything. About the last few months in particular to which there's certainly no going back to that, and as for what was before it? That doesn't seem to be a solution either when he'd meant it about it not being right. ] But if you decide that's what you want when you're ready to make a decision, we'll figure it out somehow.
[ It's been years, he'd told her once in the last time they'd gone in a larger circle around everything than this. Years he wouldn't trade for anything even if it meant the pain they've faced here at each other's hands and otherwise, and the fear of losing everything else they'd once had is every bit as much on Claude's mind as he squeezes her hand still in his again. ]
And until you do, I'm not ready to give up on this or us. I can't promise you everything will be fine, Hilda. Neither one of us can promise that to each other no matter what it's for, but what we can do is try to get through whatever happens together. That much, at least, will always be the same as it ever has.
no subject
But belief in Claude? That had bloomed long before she had realized it herself much like her feelings for him had come unexpectedly like a rogue gust of playful wind on a summer's day. Perhaps it had started out playfully enough as a way to rile Lorenz, but before long it had grown into something far more genuine. Something that sparked a conviction in her that she had never felt before, one that made her want to help him see his dreams come true. Because if she wasn't destined for anything else, maybe she could help someone who was. Who is.
Did she want her and Claude, something she had yearned and pined over for years? Did she want to support him and Sylvain and gracefully cheer them on without an ounce of jealousy in her heart? Or did she want something else, an elusive third option that remained behind lock and key that she would never admit to wanting for fear of what it could mean? She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know what came next. But she knew she loved him and knew that she wanted to believe him when they said they would figure this out together.
The soft white noise hum that has become synonymous with accepting that she would always be running to catch up, with watching him turn his back and fly away fades out. Instead he's there, waiting for her, hand outstretched hoping that she'll take it. He's here, wiping away the hot tears spilling down her cheeks faster than he can catch them, squeezing her hand like he's terrified he'll lose her. There's no mask, no facade of him in sight. It's just him holding out his own heart much in the same way she had been holding out hers all this time.
Her response starts slow and small. The weight of his calloused, warm hand against her cheek anchors her. Her hand comes to rest overtop it, tangling their fingers together. Her eyes slide shut as she turns pressing kisses into his palm. It's affection she hasn't dared show him in months, not since that night in a too-small bed in a makeshift hospital in Nocwich. ]
I'm scared. [ The admission is quiet and thick with tears even as she continues to press salty kisses to his palm. ] But I'm not going to run away from this. From us.
[ Tears cling to her lashes as her eyes open. She dares herself to be a little bolder, a little braver, trying to push the fear of rejection from her heart. With deliberation she closes the space between them slowly enough to give him time to stop her. Their knees bump up against one another's like awkward teenagers as she leans forward, lips hovering just above his for a heartbeat, for two, waiting for his quiet permission for them to meet. ]
no subject
What would the Claude of a few months ago from when they'd sat on the shores in Aquila think? What would his self from prior to arriving here think beyond being shocked for so many reasons over what'd come to pass? Would those changes be surprising as they felt now to look back on? Would all of that guardedness had been worth it for what it'd nearly - and still could - cost him, or would he have not so foolishly let something so valuable to him almost slip away? For so long he's lived as if there are no guarantees except the ones he'd leveraged for himself, and for too long this had seemed so certain despite so many unknowns in what they'd kept from each other.
It's brought back into focus now as Hilda says she's scared even while pressing kisses that feel like sparks against his palm with a promise that's more than he could've hoped for. The same can be said for when she moves closer, and it's easy then to let go of her hand. The loss of contact is temporary since he replaces it with placing it along her jaw to cradle it gently. For once the pause isn't to draw things out or to tease as it might have been on other nights, in other times besides this one when this is meant for time to appreciate a person he loves dearly.
There's so much more that he could say. He could tell her that this is all terrifying to him for different or possibly even the same reasons, that there'd been no lie when he'd told her she was the first person he'd ever truly let in. That even if there was still more to go he wants her to know the rest, but that story doesn't stop there when there's more of it to write together. All things which should and will be said, but there's more time to say them. Will be other times to say them and for now, until it's the right moments for each thought in turn, it will be enough to let them speak in another way.
There's no hesitation when Claude leans in to close that small gap left between them to meet her mouth with his for a kiss. Long overdue and yet somehow perfectly timed for everything they've been through, and he wills all those dreams to pass through it while gently deepening the kiss slightly but not further as they open a door to rediscovering each other in what's unsaid. Things that finally aren't unrequited but instead promised with hope behind them because while it feels like home as it always has: this is a chance to build a new one together. ]
no subject
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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It's for the best Hilda breaks it to end before he loses his resolve to move slowly, not take things too far too quickly within mere minutes of making that promise. That she stays close is enough, Claude tells himself, even as his hands itch to pull her even closer still to make up for months of distance. But now there's time to make up for that, too, which continues to feel like a small revelation each time it crosses his mind and as her fingers trace over him, something he hadn't realized he'd taken for granted until it was no longer there.
Something he nearly means to say in some capacity, but Hilda beats him to speaking. What she says makes his heart twist to the point where he needs a minute to say what he was ready to for some time. There's no reason to overthink it when it's the start of what to offer, a first step to lay the groundwork to more. ]
I'm sorry for hurting you, too. [ Much as he doesn't want to move - even this barely counts as moving - Claude tips his head back enough to be able to kiss her forehead when it's the best outlet he can find without derailing what needs to be said past that and cracks his eyes open afterwards to search her face. ] I thought- I thought I was making the right choice by not telling you so it'd spare you from hurting, but then I caused something even worse. It won't happen again.
[ Another promise, another very important one, and all the better to place one lingering tender kiss to her cheekbone before another below, over salt and all, and continuing on in a slow meander towards her jaw like each is meant to seal it. ]
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It better not.
[ Her attempt at levity may or may not land - especially with it being as water logged as it is. Perhaps if this hadn't been near relationship ending she might have put more efforts into the dramatics. But she can't because she silently vows it too: this amount of devastation to one another's hearts wouldn't ever come to pass again.
The absence of his lips on hers (where they belong, where they would always have a home in this timeline and the next) leaves a palpable absence of warmth. But she quietly thinks to herself, she'll accept the forehead kiss and the kisses that follow. The water laps at their skin as she adjusts herself on his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, dispelling that much more space between them.
His kisses leave her trembling in their wake. Turning her head slightly she presses a tender kiss of her own to his temple, hands carding gently through the hair at the nape of his neck. Regret reaches across her voice. ]
I let my jealousy and doubt get the best of me when I should have listened to you. I should never have doubted you.
[ She pulls away just enough again, pausing his kisses for just a moment to look at him. To look at the face that she adored. That she loved. The words catch in her teeth but the look she gives him runs over with the feeling. Her hand comes to settle over his heart. ]
I know there are so many things I can’t do, [ Not like Sylvain, not even like Claude himself. ] but I’ll do whatever I can do to support you. I’m with you all the way — here or in any timeline.
no subject
Hilda pulls back before he can so he'll have to save that for later, and in lieu of it studies her back just as much as she's doing to him. Another luxury he's not been allowed and missed, and even if Claude doesn't want to identify the outlines of that feeling etched into her beautiful face when that feels like something he's not allowed quite yet - that doesn't stop the same emotion from echoing back in his own.
So much so that he needs another second to close his eyes before it gets to be too much in only the best way, and upon opening them he lets go of her to cover her hand on his chest with his own while tangling their fingers together. ]
I think I gave you enough reasons to doubt me. [ With a smile with ever so slight sad resignation playing around the edges of it when there's no taking back what'd happened, much as it makes him committed to not repeating it - or dwelling on it. ] I've always believed in you, Hilda. That'll never change in this lifetime or any other one no matter what. Even when you doubt yourself, whether things are difficult or not, and no matter where we are. I meant what I said before, you know. I'll always be here for you.
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But the grip of Claude's hands over hers loosen the grip that the fear, the jealousy, the doubt all had on her just a little more. It pries the clawed hands covering her eyes just a little further off her face so she could see the cracks of light begin to peak through.
Could he hear the way her heart stuttered in her chest so full of love and ache for him? Or the way her pulse falls so perfectly in time with his? It would be embarassing were it not for the fact that she had missed him so viscerally that her body was already falling into habits her mind had worked so hard to forget. To be adored by him and to adore him in return, to have his belief returned to her, is a honeyed vice she had started a war for even though she had done nothing to deserve it in the first place.
Still, that doesn't stop the weights anchoring her heart from lightening. It doesn't stop her eyes misting at the sincerity of his words, nor does it prevent her heart from swelling. In spite of herself she lets out a spluttering, watery laugh as she presses their foreheads together once more. ]
Stop being so sweet to me or else I'm going to fall for you all over again. And cry. Which is really the more burdensome of the two. The attendants are going to think we fought and then you're going to have to explain that isn't the case.
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It won't fix everything, of course. Everything that's happened can't be undone, but it also doesn't have to be. They'll find a way past it - through it, over it, whichever way doesn't minimize what might finally now be part of their past rather than the nightmare it's been of the present day for so long. It'll be another important part in that story after all.
So is this: the moment where her forehead leans against his with a scolding for making those tears appear in the first place and a quiet laugh finally feels like the right response as he reaches up to brush back a tendril of pink hair back into place. ]
Well, we can't have that. Though if you think about it, would it be fighting or that we'll have to walk out of here explaining that maybe the couples package wasn't the wrong label to use after all?
[ He's teasing and the amount of amusement in his voice will (hopefully) make that apparent given that it's far too early for any such labels to be tossed around, but. The staff really might have some questions after their shocked faces when walking in compared to leaving. ]
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Jumping to conclusions, to labels, to everything they had done before is what they had just agreed not to do. Getting her hopes up about a silly joke, an attempt at levity, will only serve to be counterproductive. She attempts to claw back some of semblance of normal — whatever normal looked like now that is.
…Which apparently looks like a gentle shove that really only amounts to a light pressure against his chest punctuated with a groan. ]
I’m not explaining that to them. Maybe we should just stick to the roommate story.
[ Her scrambled attempt at dissuading the spa attendant hadn’t been forgotten and she hopes that he’ll find it funny. In hindsight it shouldn’t matter what anyone - the spa attendants, others around them - thought they were. There’s comfort in just knowing that she and Claude have come to an understanding. That they’re okay despite whatever may come next. Her gaze rises to his again, her hand never wavering from the place above his heart. ]
I missed you.
[ She missed them - but that feels like it goes without saying. It’s palpable, lingering in the silence that follows, in the way she looks at him. ]
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The small shove gets another chuckle out of him what with it being equally familiar in something else long missed. It's half-hearted at best and not a real protest, but that it wasn't long ago it would've been one is still present in his mind. As is joking about being roommates even if it's technically correct and despite what all they've told each other and what's still yet to come - from what else he knows he has to say, that is - and Claude might've responded to that with yet another quip if it wasn't for what follows.
That admission has his expression softening all over again as he looks up at her where she perches on his lap and studies her face as if to memorize every part of it all over again. As if every time before wasn't enough when it wasn't, and as if gazing upon something treasured no matter how many times before this the same has happened. This is different: the agreement to let down all those walls one by one with trust in each other to do it and to mend it in time. ]
I missed you too, Hilda. So much. [ A statement which only scratches the surface, Claude knows, and an answer in kind to everything beneath the surface of simple words they won't say aloud but the other can hear as clearly as any ringing bell. Rather than elaborate on it, he trails the back of the hand that'd straightened her hair along her jaw, gaze focused momentarily upon her lips before flicking it back up to her eyes. ] Can I kiss you again or is that too far outside of the roommate story?
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This is one of those moments. One where she thinks she could sit there and try to untangle the things left unsaid. Goddess knows there's a myriad of them hanging in the air between them - but all she can feel is the weight and the warmth of them draping over them like a blanket. It's the same feeling from before, she thinks. It's the feeling of homecoming swelling in her chest, making her breath catch in her throat.
I'm sorry. I missed you. I love you.
Maybe she's reading too much into it. Maybe she's projecting - especially that last one. But now isn't the time to dwell and sift through the tangled thoughts. A pleased smile hides in the corner of her mouth as she attempts to appear like she's in deep thought. The mirth and adoration in her eyes betrays her. ]
Well they're not here right now, right? [ The smile creeps, spreading wider, growing brighter as she inches closer until they're a hair's breadth apart. ] We can figure out what we'll tell them later. We have time.
[ And when their lips meet, as she breathes him in, as the sweetness settles on her tongue, all she can think is this: he tastes like home. She's home. They're home. ]