AISHA
all the skeletons you hide
show me yours and i'll show you mine
show me yours and i'll show you mine
Henry's hands find their way around her, he returns the embrace and Aisha finally feels as though she is helping. In any capacity, at least she can hold him, be a steady figure to lean on. Do not worry about weight or strain Henry, Aisha wouldn't let you fall. All the training, all the fighting and striving to be stronger, it would not be worth it if she was too weak to hold you steady.
He looked to the sky, sharing the moment with someone else beyond Aisha's perception. She in the meantime had moved her hands up to his shoulders, softly rubbing against his tense muscles. "You can," she asserted, tone not as gentle as her fingers. When his gaze returned to her, she met it, as his brows creased her fingers went up to carefully soothe the points where they scrunched, press against his forehead, wipe under his eyes.
"There's no should've or would've, you can't get stuck dwelling on what might've been," she'd figured this from experience, days wondering whether or not she could've avoided this whole world by being in a different place, imagining different courses of her life and how even the slightest choice could've changed it. But this was the painful reality they were in, this was the one that mattered.
"And even if you had been here, that doesn't mean things would be different," you might be dead too, but she doesn't say that last bit out loud. She runs her fingers down his face, cupping his jaw and rubbing circles there with her thumb, light and gentle as her war weathered hands could be.
He looked to the sky, sharing the moment with someone else beyond Aisha's perception. She in the meantime had moved her hands up to his shoulders, softly rubbing against his tense muscles. "You can," she asserted, tone not as gentle as her fingers. When his gaze returned to her, she met it, as his brows creased her fingers went up to carefully soothe the points where they scrunched, press against his forehead, wipe under his eyes.
"There's no should've or would've, you can't get stuck dwelling on what might've been," she'd figured this from experience, days wondering whether or not she could've avoided this whole world by being in a different place, imagining different courses of her life and how even the slightest choice could've changed it. But this was the painful reality they were in, this was the one that mattered.
"And even if you had been here, that doesn't mean things would be different," you might be dead too, but she doesn't say that last bit out loud. She runs her fingers down his face, cupping his jaw and rubbing circles there with her thumb, light and gentle as her war weathered hands could be.
all the bad dreams that you hide
show me yours
show me yours
