LIAM
It's not that we don't talk
Maea coughed up water, and Liam hovered close, one hand rubbing small, comforting circles upon her bare back as she emptied her lungs of liquid. It was a challenge to watch her so weak; he was used to her being as strong as - if not stronger than - he was, and to see her slump like a ragdoll in his arms was terrifying. When she lifted her wrist to her mouth, he made no move to stop her. Instead, he waited patiently as the cuts and scrapes across her body knitted back together again.
She slumped back against him, and he wrapped his arms around her slender frame, holding her close in the circle of his warmth. At her quiet request, he chuckled drily. "No more swimming. Got it." At their closeness, something fluttered in the pit of his stomach, and his arms tightened around Maea almost imperceptibly. Despite the situation that had led them here, this was actually quite nice - though of course he'd have preferred that Maea wasn't half-drowned and limp in his hold.
He sat for a brief time, becoming steadily more aware of just how close they were and just how little separated them. Maea's bare back pressed against Liam's chest, her sides against his arms, her stomach against his palms. He didn't want to move, for fear of breaking the spell, but neither did he wish to make her uncomfortable. "Will you be alright?" he murmured softly, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. Then, almost regretfully: "We should probably move soon."
But he didn't move a muscle. Not until Maea did.
She slumped back against him, and he wrapped his arms around her slender frame, holding her close in the circle of his warmth. At her quiet request, he chuckled drily. "No more swimming. Got it." At their closeness, something fluttered in the pit of his stomach, and his arms tightened around Maea almost imperceptibly. Despite the situation that had led them here, this was actually quite nice - though of course he'd have preferred that Maea wasn't half-drowned and limp in his hold.
He sat for a brief time, becoming steadily more aware of just how close they were and just how little separated them. Maea's bare back pressed against Liam's chest, her sides against his arms, her stomach against his palms. He didn't want to move, for fear of breaking the spell, but neither did he wish to make her uncomfortable. "Will you be alright?" he murmured softly, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. Then, almost regretfully: "We should probably move soon."
But he didn't move a muscle. Not until Maea did.
It's just no one really listens and honesty fades
