CHULANE
blending into the darkness, & it gets harder to see
Love, he relished the word as it fell from her lips, wanting to hold onto it, to cling to it forever, to listen to it on repeat. He'd never tire from hearing it, and would've worked forevermore to prove himself worthy of her feeling it, saying it, over and over again had time unfolded differently. But he'd take what he could - he'd wake from this remembering how the words sounded on her lips, how she looked when she said them, how genuine and real it all sounded and felt.
He lets her stroke his hair, and wipe the tears that inevitably fall, leaning into her touch, craving it to linger longer, but also satisfied when the flames danced along her spine and the moment moved to other things.
'A delightfully sweet mess,' he quips back, leaning into the kiss, much preferring this way of communication, where he can feel her, and she him. Hands roamed down her back, exploring the curves of her waist and hips, and eventually he did have to come up for air - even in dreams she made him breathless. The attuned bond was an open highway of emotion, a window to the truth that was him, and everything he was feeling.
The grief was there, but it was overshadowed by an overwhelming love, an affection he'd not felt so deeply for another soul before, shared with her, as they had so many times before. And as the moment stretched on, infinitely short and infinitely long in this curious dreamscape, forgiveness also rose up, acceptance, and an undeniable sense that he would be alright - that he would be able to come out of this, even if it hurt along the way.
He kissed her again.
He lets her stroke his hair, and wipe the tears that inevitably fall, leaning into her touch, craving it to linger longer, but also satisfied when the flames danced along her spine and the moment moved to other things.
'A delightfully sweet mess,' he quips back, leaning into the kiss, much preferring this way of communication, where he can feel her, and she him. Hands roamed down her back, exploring the curves of her waist and hips, and eventually he did have to come up for air - even in dreams she made him breathless. The attuned bond was an open highway of emotion, a window to the truth that was him, and everything he was feeling.
The grief was there, but it was overshadowed by an overwhelming love, an affection he'd not felt so deeply for another soul before, shared with her, as they had so many times before. And as the moment stretched on, infinitely short and infinitely long in this curious dreamscape, forgiveness also rose up, acceptance, and an undeniable sense that he would be alright - that he would be able to come out of this, even if it hurt along the way.
He kissed her again.
try to stand & unravel what a man's gotta be
