When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war
The frustration he’s prepared to see tilt into her face doesn’t come. Instead, there’s something far worse waiting there when their gazes lock. Hurt blazes clear and fresh, and despite the remnants of what’s already worn itself upon her, he’s certain that this dose doesn’t belong to anyone’s hand but his own. It echoes back through him, cold and sharp, and he’s reminded of something she once told him. Girls sometimes ask for the truth, but don’t always want it. Maybe he should have kept this inside.
Heat rushes behind his next blink, and in an instant, he grabs for her. It’s an attempt to smother any potential sobs between them through sheer force as he pulls her into him. The sudden force of it sends him swaying and sagging sideways into the counter, evidently not quite strong enough himself right now to manage the pair of them alone. ”No,” he forces out quickly, volume thin, the sound of desperate breath. The cup jostles between them, an irritant now as he’s forced to lean back for a moment, hastily plucking it up and passing it off into the sink with a disruptive clang of glass and metal.
The vision of her blurs, so he bears down as if he might lose feel of her as equally as sight. His grip tightens, though it hardly feels capable enough now, while his head tilts over hers, sending the kitchen as sideways as he feels. ”That’s not true.” The adamancy of that statement delivers it steadier than the inhale that trembles on its heels. ”I’ve never felt more loved than when I’m with you.” She has always loved him in all the ways he needs most, and she has never hesitated to do so. He’s never known a feeling quite like being accepted and cherished in this way, by her, and it seems as unconditional and as instinctual as any other part of himself at this point. It’s why the idea of losing her is so terrifying. She is everything to him now.
It’s never the depth of her love for him that he’s doubted, but how far it still runs for Jack. ”It’s just…” He struggles to swallow, eyes pinching shut for a moment, letting the rest of what he has become filled with her. The feel of her, however aching, and each wretched sound of her unease that drifts up. The press of her hair that normally delivers wisps of sea breeze, is now tempered with mountain air and travel. ”He has a room…doesn’t he? At the house.” Kaisel’s never seen it; she keeps it tucked away, but he’s wandered the house, and he knows she built rooms for everyone she cares about. The timing of it means she’d been between the two of them, so he can guess at what’s behind one of those doors that’s never open.
It’s a reminder to him, that it’s not their house, it’s hers. Every room had been built around the people she loves, and he didn’t even get to leave a mark by helping her raise it up. It’s her ship, not theirs, however familiar it’s become with shared adventures. Her region, quite literally, and it feels sometimes like he’s been added to her life instead of something they’re building together. It’s part of why he wants to get the proposal so right, because it’s the first true thing that’ll feel like theirs.
Heat rushes behind his next blink, and in an instant, he grabs for her. It’s an attempt to smother any potential sobs between them through sheer force as he pulls her into him. The sudden force of it sends him swaying and sagging sideways into the counter, evidently not quite strong enough himself right now to manage the pair of them alone. ”No,” he forces out quickly, volume thin, the sound of desperate breath. The cup jostles between them, an irritant now as he’s forced to lean back for a moment, hastily plucking it up and passing it off into the sink with a disruptive clang of glass and metal.
The vision of her blurs, so he bears down as if he might lose feel of her as equally as sight. His grip tightens, though it hardly feels capable enough now, while his head tilts over hers, sending the kitchen as sideways as he feels. ”That’s not true.” The adamancy of that statement delivers it steadier than the inhale that trembles on its heels. ”I’ve never felt more loved than when I’m with you.” She has always loved him in all the ways he needs most, and she has never hesitated to do so. He’s never known a feeling quite like being accepted and cherished in this way, by her, and it seems as unconditional and as instinctual as any other part of himself at this point. It’s why the idea of losing her is so terrifying. She is everything to him now.
It’s never the depth of her love for him that he’s doubted, but how far it still runs for Jack. ”It’s just…” He struggles to swallow, eyes pinching shut for a moment, letting the rest of what he has become filled with her. The feel of her, however aching, and each wretched sound of her unease that drifts up. The press of her hair that normally delivers wisps of sea breeze, is now tempered with mountain air and travel. ”He has a room…doesn’t he? At the house.” Kaisel’s never seen it; she keeps it tucked away, but he’s wandered the house, and he knows she built rooms for everyone she cares about. The timing of it means she’d been between the two of them, so he can guess at what’s behind one of those doors that’s never open.
It’s a reminder to him, that it’s not their house, it’s hers. Every room had been built around the people she loves, and he didn’t even get to leave a mark by helping her raise it up. It’s her ship, not theirs, however familiar it’s become with shared adventures. Her region, quite literally, and it feels sometimes like he’s been added to her life instead of something they’re building together. It’s part of why he wants to get the proposal so right, because it’s the first true thing that’ll feel like theirs.
Kaisel
If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
