[ The weight of palms and moonlacing interweave into a medley of sensation that speak only of the small kindling warmth that could sum up what they have. Constant as the constellations above in all the years affection may have taken different shapes but never faded with the season's change, nor burst into an uncontrolled flame.
And as much as he asks for things, often without the words but certainly the hopeful expectation, such as all the times his hands had crossed the divide between them as though willing themselves to seek out contact from a man who'd reacted only in fear, he doesn't take.
Shen Qingqiu's stilling touch doesn't shove but yield and keep him, urging Binghe to stay his present course right where two feet hold him and not venture elsewhere. It's something said without the follow up of words, but loud enough to him in a language of Shen Qingqiu's own body that he's taught himself.
A tilt of his head would be too much of a disruption, so he merely hums in assent. Luo Binghe stays where he's bidden to; moored between two hands like a ship held near enough to the coastline to see but kept from beaching itself upon the shore. ]
This one has already done so twice before.
[ Not a rebuttal, but evidence to prove he's capable of survival. Even if his heart grows cold and all that's left to warm him are memories of a man he needs to feel more alive than the corpse he'd clutched close. ]
no subject
And as much as he asks for things, often without the words but certainly the hopeful expectation, such as all the times his hands had crossed the divide between them as though willing themselves to seek out contact from a man who'd reacted only in fear, he doesn't take.
Shen Qingqiu's stilling touch doesn't shove but yield and keep him, urging Binghe to stay his present course right where two feet hold him and not venture elsewhere. It's something said without the follow up of words, but loud enough to him in a language of Shen Qingqiu's own body that he's taught himself.
A tilt of his head would be too much of a disruption, so he merely hums in assent. Luo Binghe stays where he's bidden to; moored between two hands like a ship held near enough to the coastline to see but kept from beaching itself upon the shore. ]
This one has already done so twice before.
[ Not a rebuttal, but evidence to prove he's capable of survival. Even if his heart grows cold and all that's left to warm him are memories of a man he needs to feel more alive than the corpse he'd clutched close. ]
And I will again, if I have to.