[All her mental berating screeches to a halt and is replaced by panic as she's stopped -- the shrill squawk and honk of an idiot goose that got its head stuck in a bucket and is desperately flapping to get out. It nearly makes her flinch away. Then she's looking over to meet his blank eyes with her own worried, searching ones, and she gives way easily to his gentle pull. He's taller than her by more than half a foot, so she can't imagine it's very comfortable for him to rest against her like that, and it's still strange to be so close to someone in the first place...but where his forehead touches her skin instead of the fabric of her shirt, it's like a soothing, cooling balm for those burns she was over here causing herself. That arm doesn't move, not wanting to spook him away, but her other one reaches for him again. Just to hold him again in some small way. She knows her pulse must be upsettingly obvious where he is, fighting to leap from her neck and perform some wild drum solo she daydreamed of pulling off when she was twelve.
She doesn't know what this means and she's too afraid to ask. Too afraid to speak at all, really. She'd ruin it, whatever it is, and what would she do then?]
no subject
She doesn't know what this means and she's too afraid to ask. Too afraid to speak at all, really. She'd ruin it, whatever it is, and what would she do then?]