The frustration in her mind was causing her body to shake. She clenched her fist so hard to prevent from punching the nearest wall that her nails dug into her palms and drew blood. Why, why did people have to undermine the genuine feelings she knew were there? The pessimism that she'd been subjected to after voicing her happiness just ate at her. Not because it was true, per se, but because it's not necessary. Just...not necessary. The outside, that measures time in cold, concrete units, cannot understand the dynamic of them, as a pair. It just won't happen.
They'd known each other for two years. Between sporadic disappearances for their own needs, and the random re-connecting, who really cares 'how long' they'd known each other? They don't know how often they've talked to each other, or how long each time. They don't know what she cried about at night, as he just soothed her from across an ocean. They just don't know.
He took her hand in his, and gently eased her shaking fingers away from her palm. He kissed the blood away as she hiccuped, embarrassed that she'd done that to herself. She stared down at the couch cushion in front of her, calming herself down by listening to herself breathe. He pulled her close, and she turned, leaning back against his chest. Taking his hand gingerly, she played with his fingers, shaping his hand, tracing the lines on his palm, opening and closing his fingers. It was one of those days, where all she wanted to do was sense; to feel as only she could feel, only she could understand. He smiled, watching her study his fingers with that simple, childlike disposition. Slowly but surely he felt her loose grip on his hand loosen even more, until she'd fallen asleep completely, curling up against him. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he wrapped his arms around her shoulder and nodded off, smiling inwardly with the knowledge that only he could make her feel so calm, and so safe, so easily.
Poindextra Community Member 
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