She knows him too well, he realizes, as she speaks. She knows him. She's seen the worst parts of him really, all those sharper edges, the anger and the rage and the scars of battle so newly fought. She's so much of the reason he managed to be more than that.
He wraps his fingers around her hand, holding tightly. He has the grace to look vaguely sheepish, somewhere around the corners of the smile that's taken residence across his lips, as she calls him out on that. "Yes, yeah. For now, of course." For now. But he will need answers, eventually. He knows himself well enough for that.
His arms wrap tightly around Rose as she steps in once more, turning his head just enough to brush his cheek to soft blonde hair. He stills at the question though, a subtle tension that races through him and only has his embrace tightening. "I remember. Bit hard to forget, really..." he trails off. The things left unsaid were always the hardest, weren't they, the sort of regrets that tore a place in his soul apart and made a permanent residence for themselves. A breath, and he wonders at himself, at how three simple syllables can be so difficult to speak when oh he means them with every last cell of his being.
"I love you," he manages, but they're spoken in a whisper, like they're too delicate for any more volume.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-07-15 06:12 pm (UTC)He wraps his fingers around her hand, holding tightly. He has the grace to look vaguely sheepish, somewhere around the corners of the smile that's taken residence across his lips, as she calls him out on that. "Yes, yeah. For now, of course." For now. But he will need answers, eventually. He knows himself well enough for that.
His arms wrap tightly around Rose as she steps in once more, turning his head just enough to brush his cheek to soft blonde hair. He stills at the question though, a subtle tension that races through him and only has his embrace tightening. "I remember. Bit hard to forget, really..." he trails off. The things left unsaid were always the hardest, weren't they, the sort of regrets that tore a place in his soul apart and made a permanent residence for themselves. A breath, and he wonders at himself, at how three simple syllables can be so difficult to speak when oh he means them with every last cell of his being.
"I love you," he manages, but they're spoken in a whisper, like they're too delicate for any more volume.