CHULANE
And so they sat there, both softly crying, sharing and caring, clinging to each other, two people who came from literal different worlds, whose paths had crossed thanks to some damn vegetables. His words were met with understanding, with soft smiles and another squeeze of that lifeline they had built in the simple gesture of holding hands.
The flow of the conversation turned again, and he too reached for his water, stealing a sip as she labelled him not just special, but special to her. He put his glass down again, matching the intensity of her gaze, goosebumps rising along his arms again as anticipation rose within him.
Her words have him perched on the edge of his seat, butterflies dancing about uncomfortably in his stomach as he heard each one. It wasn't until she followed up with the bond-message that he remembered to breathe again, to let go of the tension that had built up in his posture - and to smile broadly like a goofy idiot.
"I do want that," he was a little bit giddy, his emotions swirling a little bit wildly within him, the tone of the evening having changed so rapidly from pleasant, to reflecting current events, to brutally reliving past traumas, and now to this - had he been able to access the bond in his human form he no doubt would have been projecting a confused mess of happiness, sadness and solemnity.
But what he also felt was an overwhelming urge to be closer to her - suddenly the distance that the table was putting between them was too much. "I still want us to finish dinner, but first -" he stood, not letting go of her hand, instead holding onto her other hand too, pulling her up and stepping to the side of the table, so that there would be no obstacle between them. He then stepped in closer to her, intimately so, leaning down so that he could look directly into her eyes, lifting a hand to cup to her cheek.
"Kiss me," he whispered, he pleaded, unable to hold back the swell of desire any longer as he leaned in towards her, closing the gap between them finally.
The flow of the conversation turned again, and he too reached for his water, stealing a sip as she labelled him not just special, but special to her. He put his glass down again, matching the intensity of her gaze, goosebumps rising along his arms again as anticipation rose within him.
Her words have him perched on the edge of his seat, butterflies dancing about uncomfortably in his stomach as he heard each one. It wasn't until she followed up with the bond-message that he remembered to breathe again, to let go of the tension that had built up in his posture - and to smile broadly like a goofy idiot.
"I do want that," he was a little bit giddy, his emotions swirling a little bit wildly within him, the tone of the evening having changed so rapidly from pleasant, to reflecting current events, to brutally reliving past traumas, and now to this - had he been able to access the bond in his human form he no doubt would have been projecting a confused mess of happiness, sadness and solemnity.
But what he also felt was an overwhelming urge to be closer to her - suddenly the distance that the table was putting between them was too much. "I still want us to finish dinner, but first -" he stood, not letting go of her hand, instead holding onto her other hand too, pulling her up and stepping to the side of the table, so that there would be no obstacle between them. He then stepped in closer to her, intimately so, leaning down so that he could look directly into her eyes, lifting a hand to cup to her cheek.
"Kiss me," he whispered, he pleaded, unable to hold back the swell of desire any longer as he leaned in towards her, closing the gap between them finally.
it is better to know some of the questions
than all of the answers
than all of the answers
