He finds solace in the silence between them.
It is enough, perhaps to still the way that everything within him rages. He finds a core of stillness and holds onto it, growing more and more still as she comes close to him again, her touches soft and tender. He stops shaking his head and exhales low and deep, emptying his lungs of the air that he has clung to in the moments between. Her cheek finds his and he keeps his grey eyes closed, focusing on her breathing.
“I don’t know how,” he confesses and he feels all of the tangles of his wild heart—the jealous and the guilt and the possessiveness that runs rampant through it. “I don’t want to ruin it,” his voice is quiet and he doesn’t know how to tell her about the destruction his hands have wrought. He knows she is strong—he knows she is not a tower to be felled by him alone—but this thing between them.
It is delicate and sweet and he devours such things.
“I want to try, though” and this confession is a piece of vulnerability that he nearly chokes up. It is a painful thing to admit such things to her—to let her see him stripped bare of his usually callous armor—but when he pulls back to look at her, his face is washed clean of anything but the feelings that she has stirred within his youthful heart so quickly. “Can I try, Kensa?” he reaches out to brush wine-red lips across the sweet curve of her jaw, losing himself in the perfume and the gold of her.
A muscle his own jaw jumps as he finds her eyes, holding onto it and studying the depths.
“I can’t promise to be perfect,” his lips quirk just slightly in the corner, “but I can promise to be yours.”
BRIGADE
when I was a man I thought it ended when I knew love's perfect ache
but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake
@[Kensa]