[The second kiss is even sweeter because it's his intentional response to her quiet request and her heart sighs in her chest as the private happiness seeps in, indulged. Like any woman would, she soaks in the moments when the man she loves surprises her with an unscheduled gift or gesture, but for her at least, it's just as equally that his quiet surprises are so much more meaningful for their shy vulnerability of his soul he risks in each one. It has her treasuring them, close to her heart, like trembling secrets. He's so earnest most of the time and he applies that same quiet, simple earnestness to her so often she feels spoiled by it, still a bit confused at the simple attention she's so unused to. She's used to being noticed, built the way she is it would be strange not to be, but being noticed and being paid attention to are two very different things she's finding.
And she's finding that she loves it when he quietly, thinking she doesn't notice, pays attention to her.
When he pulls away enough to ask his question, she follows, a subtle sway forward after him, fingers still curled around that strap over his chest and her eyes are slow to open. He makes her feel light inside, makes, somehow, everything seem as if it will be easier. The second kiss makes her feel young again too, pulls up enough of who she once was, before ashes and anger, back when she knew the confidence of being loved without question. It's only a whisper, a subtle flicker of light that's slow in growing but that's been rekindled and stubbornly refuses to go back out, fed by a dozen little half smiles and soft touches in the dark. Fed by unexpected flowers and secret attempts to leave them for her. It struggles upward now, brief, has her feeling confident enough to stay close to him, close enough to inhale his exhales and feel his warmth around her and so there's the smallest tease in her smile for him as she quietly murmurs:]
no subject
And she's finding that she loves it when he quietly, thinking she doesn't notice, pays attention to her.
When he pulls away enough to ask his question, she follows, a subtle sway forward after him, fingers still curled around that strap over his chest and her eyes are slow to open. He makes her feel light inside, makes, somehow, everything seem as if it will be easier. The second kiss makes her feel young again too, pulls up enough of who she once was, before ashes and anger, back when she knew the confidence of being loved without question. It's only a whisper, a subtle flicker of light that's slow in growing but that's been rekindled and stubbornly refuses to go back out, fed by a dozen little half smiles and soft touches in the dark. Fed by unexpected flowers and secret attempts to leave them for her. It struggles upward now, brief, has her feeling confident enough to stay close to him, close enough to inhale his exhales and feel his warmth around her and so there's the smallest tease in her smile for him as she quietly murmurs:]
Not long enough.