we are all broken
”At least if he’s telling those stories to the girls, you won’t have to marry him just yet,” he points out, though there’s not much in the way of pep or humour left in him. Finn finds it difficult to meet her eyes, bruised fresh by the knowledge that he’s landed himself in this situation (and in all the situations before it, too), and it’s only the sudden weight against the bed that has him glancing up.
Something softens in him at the sight of her, a laugh huffing out of him; Finn isn’t able to shift or move away from the assault of a cold nose and soft fur and the comforting weight against his body, and he doesn’t try besides. His bad arm moves around her as directed, the other working gentle fingers through the kinks in her fur. A shuddering sort of sigh escapes him, like he’s somehow able to forget himself in lieu of this, and his hand moves up for grateful ear scritches instead.
Something softens in him at the sight of her, a laugh huffing out of him; Finn isn’t able to shift or move away from the assault of a cold nose and soft fur and the comforting weight against his body, and he doesn’t try besides. His bad arm moves around her as directed, the other working gentle fingers through the kinks in her fur. A shuddering sort of sigh escapes him, like he’s somehow able to forget himself in lieu of this, and his hand moves up for grateful ear scritches instead.
that’s how the light gets in
