[In the upswell of affection (he brings his arms around her, pulls her from the pile of pillows into his arms, presses her close) there is a familiar note. Of being parted too soon, of so many things tugging them in other directions, not enough time. Of she came back except that refrain is now more terrified than relieved.
He breaks for air. It is for a moment, and he sigh he makes is not catharsis but terrible and terrified longing.]
Sypha...
[She needs to rest. She doesn't need to be overwhelmed like this, but he is selfish, so selfish right now.]
no subject
He breaks for air. It is for a moment, and he sigh he makes is not catharsis but terrible and terrified longing.]
Sypha...
[She needs to rest. She doesn't need to be overwhelmed like this, but he is selfish, so selfish right now.]
I love you.