[ He almost leaves outright when she draws back, suddenly afraid that he's been reading things wrong, that this isn't what she wants in the least. Then, slowly, slowly, her lips curve into a smile, and before he can fully process what she's said (I'm happy), she's kissing him again.
There's a fervency to the way that he holds her now that is equal parts passion and relief (and, perhaps, desperation too). When he pulls back, his cheeks are flushed, and he is half breathless. But, most importantly, he's smiling, too. It takes years from his countenance, makes him seem the age he is rather than the age that his features have worn to be. ]
Me, too, [ is what he manages to say, near baffled in too. ] I mean, I'm— I'm happy.
[ And he kisses her again, his embrace tighter than it had been, lips trailing to her jaw, then her neck, his former caution abandoned as that rush — happiness, a stranger to him up until now — strikes him as the waves of the sea strike against the rock shore. ]
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There's a fervency to the way that he holds her now that is equal parts passion and relief (and, perhaps, desperation too). When he pulls back, his cheeks are flushed, and he is half breathless. But, most importantly, he's smiling, too. It takes years from his countenance, makes him seem the age he is rather than the age that his features have worn to be. ]
Me, too, [ is what he manages to say, near baffled in too. ] I mean, I'm— I'm happy.
[ And he kisses her again, his embrace tighter than it had been, lips trailing to her jaw, then her neck, his former caution abandoned as that rush — happiness, a stranger to him up until now — strikes him as the waves of the sea strike against the rock shore. ]