[ She nods, taking solace in that flat steadiness, a particular exactness that is in part how hard it is to move in straight lines right now, and that it's hard not to shake, when she feels the thud of her heart inside her mouth when she puts her fingers over his. Curling around his hand, turning her head into that curl. A kiss that is the bite of teeth over the heel of his palm, affection press. ]
Will you forgive me if I find myself loving you?
[ He seemed so against any genuine affection - but she knows her own faults. Her own inability to not give, not with anything less than all of herself. ]
no subject
Will you forgive me if I find myself loving you?
[ He seemed so against any genuine affection - but she knows her own faults. Her own inability to not give, not with anything less than all of herself. ]