She was aware of the tremulousness of the situation, and still she pressed forward with as much bravery as she could muster, the taste of optimism forever foreign on her tongue. Her fears were many, though none rested in the realm of her being physically harmed at his hands. If he'd wanted that, he could've done it long ago.
Now where they sat on her couch, her boldness tapering off to a drizzle and still leaving her holding both of his hands, her greatest fear was that he might pull away. That somehow, some way, all her tentative progress had been for naught. That as close as she had been, he might still slip through her fingers and into the shadows of her memory.
She liked the feel of his hands in hers. Liked the roughness in textures that indicated the capability that lay within them, to say nothing of his implied complacency in allowing her that small touch. It was too early to tell whether or not it was a victory, but she treasured it nonetheless. Like everything else about him, this proximity to his body felt disastrously, achingly familiar.
"I don't need to eat," she replied, shaking her head. "I just want to talk with you, if you feel like it. If not, I'd be fine just sitting here together if that's what you need." She squeezed both of his hands gently, working her thumb along his knuckles. It was a small touch, and still she felt it all the way to her bones. "I don't want to take too much," she said, quiet enough to be a whisper as her gaze fell to her thumb. "But it feels right, doesn't it?"
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Date: 2015-05-03 06:14 am (UTC)Now where they sat on her couch, her boldness tapering off to a drizzle and still leaving her holding both of his hands, her greatest fear was that he might pull away. That somehow, some way, all her tentative progress had been for naught. That as close as she had been, he might still slip through her fingers and into the shadows of her memory.
She liked the feel of his hands in hers. Liked the roughness in textures that indicated the capability that lay within them, to say nothing of his implied complacency in allowing her that small touch. It was too early to tell whether or not it was a victory, but she treasured it nonetheless. Like everything else about him, this proximity to his body felt disastrously, achingly familiar.
"I don't need to eat," she replied, shaking her head. "I just want to talk with you, if you feel like it. If not, I'd be fine just sitting here together if that's what you need." She squeezed both of his hands gently, working her thumb along his knuckles. It was a small touch, and still she felt it all the way to her bones. "I don't want to take too much," she said, quiet enough to be a whisper as her gaze fell to her thumb. "But it feels right, doesn't it?"