[ He does hear it, the skip in her heart. He lifts his head after a moment, hand resting on her hip as she settles on his thigh. He's not sure if he's pulled himself together or if he's fallen a little further apart, but for the first time, it does not matter which. He lets himself be, existing, and he lets that be enough.
A small smile tugs at his lips. ] How else are you to recognize me?
[ He prefers to keep reality as it is. It feels especially important for a place where no rules apply. He's been lost in here before, fallen into fantasies and dreams that were not real, of a home and a girl. And yet, there was something missing even back then, wasn't there? He remembers the lilacs and gooseberries that grew outside the cabin. A pale imitation of what he had been seeking, as shadowed and half-formed as the girl who appeared.
By inches, he relaxes under her hands. They're familiar, warm. He's missed them. Her. Of course he fucking has. More than that, more than her presence, he's missed being sure. That he could trust her. That their nearly two years apart has not made her colder, more distant. She can be all those things, he knows, but not...towards him. Not like that. But he's felt it all, her uncertainty and fear over what needed to be done (afraid that she might've lost him because of it, in more ways than one), and it's—
It's important to him, to know that.
He reaches up, runs his thumb over her cheek. He makes his decision and coaxes her down for a kiss: soft, but sure, and filled with everything he's wanted to say to her since they parted that day. ]
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A small smile tugs at his lips. ] How else are you to recognize me?
[ He prefers to keep reality as it is. It feels especially important for a place where no rules apply. He's been lost in here before, fallen into fantasies and dreams that were not real, of a home and a girl. And yet, there was something missing even back then, wasn't there? He remembers the lilacs and gooseberries that grew outside the cabin. A pale imitation of what he had been seeking, as shadowed and half-formed as the girl who appeared.
By inches, he relaxes under her hands. They're familiar, warm. He's missed them. Her. Of course he fucking has. More than that, more than her presence, he's missed being sure. That he could trust her. That their nearly two years apart has not made her colder, more distant. She can be all those things, he knows, but not...towards him. Not like that. But he's felt it all, her uncertainty and fear over what needed to be done (afraid that she might've lost him because of it, in more ways than one), and it's—
It's important to him, to know that.
He reaches up, runs his thumb over her cheek. He makes his decision and coaxes her down for a kiss: soft, but sure, and filled with everything he's wanted to say to her since they parted that day. ]