[ She swallows, green gaze flicking from between that hand raises, hesitantly tentaively moving to touch her, and his face. It's not fear, persay. Not how it had been years ago: a cocktail of desire, fear, shame, and longing mixed together. Those days are so far gone from their lives now. No, it's more ... the ache that rises in her chest like a fever pitch, making her last thought before contact something hazy about how he's so much taller than he should be. And then it's only that ache. Hitting a high, sharp, clear note that refuses any other distraction.
At the tentativeness.
At the brush of callused fingers, still waiting for her to be a dream.
At the gentleness that people never expect of him, and the way, too, has moved in and filled up her life. Heart.
Jean's eyes fall half shuttered, her heartbeat skitters, breath falling silent, held, as she can't resist the way her cheek turns into his touch, into the warmth warm, solidness of his hand. Letting herself fall into it, in a way she knows she probably shouldn't, hand coming up to curve over the back of his, keeping it close at least a few seconds longer. ]
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At the tentativeness.
At the brush of callused fingers,
still waiting for her to be a dream.
At the gentleness that people never expect of him,
and the way, too, has moved in and filled up her life. Heart.
Jean's eyes fall half shuttered, her heartbeat skitters, breath falling silent, held, as she can't resist the way her cheek turns into his touch, into the warmth warm, solidness of his hand. Letting herself fall into it, in a way she knows she probably shouldn't, hand coming up to curve over the back of his, keeping it close at least a few seconds longer. ]