and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass

Maeve

It's like a switch is flipped. Both of them suddenly breathing a little easier, pressing into each other a little more, and Maeve sighs with relief against his lips. There isn't a chance to deepen the kiss because he's talking again, but she'll take what she can get at this point. Dark brows lift towards her hair and she cocks her head to the side, confused amusement coloring her features, "Ten years? No, not that much older. Surely?" Have they ever actually talked about it? She doesn't think so. Maeve knows she's young. That she looks it, but she's not that much younger than him, is she? "I'm twenty." Maeve goes ahead and saves them both the awkwardness of guessing, throwing her age out there are preparing for the judgement. Did it matter all that much, though? She's not sure it does.

She manages a small nod, smiling up at him softly as her fingers push into his hair, brushing it back gently, "I think I can manage that." Maeve murmurs, drawing back slightly as the water starts to grow cold. "Need to wash your hair before it gets too cold." She reaches for the soap, working up a lather between her hands before rising up onto her toes to start working it into his curls. Maeve gently washes his hair, fingertips spreading the suds through his curls, but it takes only a few minutes to get the bubbles through his hair. "So much for finding the spots I missed, huh?" She teases, releasing him so he can rinse the soap out of his hair.

The tightness in her chest eases as she watches him, a small smile curling on her lips as she lets her eyes run over him. Things always seem to be changing between them. Growing and evolving. That's what relationships are, right? A constant change between two people who want to grow together? That's what Maeve thinks. It has to be. How else could you keep something going that long without it?

I'm undone about to burst at my seams
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need