⧼ the one that meant the most. and she willingly brings him here, with her grief and her vulnerability, even after berating him for spying on her dreams, for intruding where she claimed he didn’t belong. it was just hours ago — and she wasn’t entirely wrong, despite his trespass being another part of his purpose. but he’s no longer a voyeur. he’s welcome, not as a king but as a guest, and it hits him in all the right ways; he hears the shift in her voice, shell cracked, and doesn’t fight the cold warmth that splits his chest open.
she wants him here. beyond the nostalgia, the pain. and it’s one of the most intimate invitation he’s ever received.
there’s an apology on the tip of his tongue, to soothe her sorrow. but he doesn’t say anything. she knew the impact it would have on her, to be here — and she didn’t bring him along for sorries. but he can soothe her in different ways, maybe; first, by giving her hand a light squeeze, a slow stretch of fingers to lace them a little tighter. and then he leans closer, no trace of pity in his eyes; there’s warmth, mostly, and a good dose of gratitude. ⧽ Thank you. ⧼ for allowing him here at all. he’s touched in weird ways — it doesn’t happen often. ⧽
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an era later
she wants him here. beyond the nostalgia, the pain. and it’s one of the most intimate invitation he’s ever received.
there’s an apology on the tip of his tongue, to soothe her sorrow. but he doesn’t say anything. she knew the impact it would have on her, to be here — and she didn’t bring him along for sorries. but he can soothe her in different ways, maybe; first, by giving her hand a light squeeze, a slow stretch of fingers to lace them a little tighter. and then he leans closer, no trace of pity in his eyes; there’s warmth, mostly, and a good dose of gratitude. ⧽ Thank you. ⧼ for allowing him here at all. he’s touched in weird ways — it doesn’t happen often. ⧽