( It was a mess she readily would have waded through after all he'd done for the world, for her— he underestimates himself at every step, but so too do many others. It's something she's grown accustomed to. It isn't something she would have thought twice about, and it's also not something she'd ever have come to regret had it happened, either.
She gets it. It's water under the bridge now, and there's no room for hurt feelings.
The way he caves to the request and the stiff way he spreads his arms has her laughing, warm and easy, as she reaches up to cup the nape of his neck in one hand and the other sides about his ribs to soothe down his back, melding right to him with her chin barely reaching his shoulder. )
Even if it doesn't, I just wanted to get ahold of you and be sure you're real, you know.
( It's a joke, but she's sincere in that she'd just wanted to be able to embrace him and give him that gladness, squished right into him. See? It wasn't killing him. It doesn't even hurt. She holds on as long as he'll allow, weight shifting from one leg to the other in a playful little sway, but the way she holds him is enough to let him know he's important to her.
And, somewhat miraculously, it seems to work— not without a twinge as something deep inside her chest shifts, pulls away— and then proceeds to slither its way out of her chest and out of her arm, coiling heavily as its weight falls out of them and then she squeezes him, muffling some soft sound of discomfort against his collar. The relief that follows, though, has her softening again. Just... give her a second. )
no subject
She gets it. It's water under the bridge now, and there's no room for hurt feelings.
The way he caves to the request and the stiff way he spreads his arms has her laughing, warm and easy, as she reaches up to cup the nape of his neck in one hand and the other sides about his ribs to soothe down his back, melding right to him with her chin barely reaching his shoulder. )
Even if it doesn't, I just wanted to get ahold of you and be sure you're real, you know.
( It's a joke, but she's sincere in that she'd just wanted to be able to embrace him and give him that gladness, squished right into him. See? It wasn't killing him. It doesn't even hurt. She holds on as long as he'll allow, weight shifting from one leg to the other in a playful little sway, but the way she holds him is enough to let him know he's important to her.
And, somewhat miraculously, it seems to work— not without a twinge as something deep inside her chest shifts, pulls away— and then proceeds to slither its way out of her chest and out of her arm, coiling heavily as its weight falls out of them and then she squeezes him, muffling some soft sound of discomfort against his collar. The relief that follows, though, has her softening again. Just... give her a second. )