Maybe she could sense the growing unease distilling and dissipating through his frame, with no answers, no reasons, nothing at all but the unfurling unknown peppered with each broadcast. He swarmed it down again, drank in her presence and the child within, curled and coiled around what he had, what he cherished, what was bound to be. An apology threatened on his tongue but he didn’t couldn’t name what for, and instead he shifted, feeling her touch, her expanse, and settling into its refrain. “Right,” he mustered. “We always do.”
Somehow, someway.
Brow against brow, Deimos eased another breath, smiled when her mouth met the edges of his. He extended the courtesies, the adoration, the distinctions, along the tip of her nose, the curve of her cheeks, the corners of her eyes. “I love you,” another echo with the same meaning and threshold. His lids slowly dropped, savoring what he could, one more breath to withhold and withstand. “Do we want to get anything else done?” A gesture to the nursery at large, or even the remaining pieces and pockets left untouched.
Somehow, someway.
Brow against brow, Deimos eased another breath, smiled when her mouth met the edges of his. He extended the courtesies, the adoration, the distinctions, along the tip of her nose, the curve of her cheeks, the corners of her eyes. “I love you,” another echo with the same meaning and threshold. His lids slowly dropped, savoring what he could, one more breath to withhold and withstand. “Do we want to get anything else done?” A gesture to the nursery at large, or even the remaining pieces and pockets left untouched.
deimos
Never let them drain the river of your soul
