[ She keeps her eyes closed but his flutter open, heavy-lidded but still bright, gaze flickering over her features. He isn't bright by nature; by nature, he's quiet, efficient, pared down. These excesses, gestures and words and gifts and time, are the proof of his love for her.
There's further proof as he mumbles one word against her temple (okay), hands first finding her elbows before his arms wrap around her frame. Okay, he says, and it's an agreement to the sort of break he'd never have taken before. Time for himself, time for her, time for them. ]
no subject
There's further proof as he mumbles one word against her temple (okay), hands first finding her elbows before his arms wrap around her frame. Okay, he says, and it's an agreement to the sort of break he'd never have taken before. Time for himself, time for her, time for them. ]
Majorca 't is.