[ And then there's this: the fact that she treats him like something precious, as much father as the last cog needed to make an engine purr, a toy as beloved in adulthood as it had been when she was still a child. Somethingβ someone worth treating affectionately and holding close. Granted, he's always known that to be the miracle of her love. It doesn't sand her sharper edges down so much as it provides a lens into the bright colors of her existence, those soaring highs and lows the only possible explanation for the depth of her feeling and the wild spread of its according blast radius. Not destruction but new life, even if she doesn't see it that way.
For a moment, she's all there is. The warm weight of her in his arms, her fingers spidering over the front of his shirt. His own wander β through her hair, over her cheek, through the gaps in her dress, like he's mapping her out. ]
To us, [ whispered against the bridge of her nose. A necessary echo. Then again, like he hadn't registered it the first time, ] To us.
I'll beβ
[ He pauses β to drink her in, to adjust the shape of his mouth to words he's not used to saying, the same way he's learned to adjust the way he moves around her. More open, more tender; clearer, to give her what she deserves, to leave less room for miscommunication. His hand finds hers, holding it still over his chest. When he steps back, their fingers are still intertwined, tugging her gently toward the couch.
He thinks, I love you. He says, ] I'll always be good to you.
no subject
For a moment, she's all there is. The warm weight of her in his arms, her fingers spidering over the front of his shirt. His own wander β through her hair, over her cheek, through the gaps in her dress, like he's mapping her out. ]
To us, [ whispered against the bridge of her nose. A necessary echo. Then again, like he hadn't registered it the first time, ] To us.
I'll beβ
[ He pauses β to drink her in, to adjust the shape of his mouth to words he's not used to saying, the same way he's learned to adjust the way he moves around her. More open, more tender; clearer, to give her what she deserves, to leave less room for miscommunication. His hand finds hers, holding it still over his chest. When he steps back, their fingers are still intertwined, tugging her gently toward the couch.
He thinks, I love you. He says, ] I'll always be good to you.