[ She knows. When he gives, when he turns, when he wraps his arms around her, she knows and it's more than belief, than demand of whatever power sees fit to shoot them like pool balls into some new pocket universe if there even is such a thing. She doesn't know. Doesn't rightly care in that moment about gods or fate or whatever anyone else might call this because, in that moment, she knows. She knows his movements, this hug, this sensation because it is everything she thought she'd lost when she couldn't feel his hand in hers and it rushes against that still clinging fear that curls and whispers against her ear. Crashes into it and erodes it so that by the time he shifts and withdraws, she can breathe in and deep because she knows and he's here and he's him and he's real and she didn't lose him, home. Because that's what he feels like, and he has for the longest -- everything that fits neatly in that deceptively simple, four letter word that's eluded her for years.
She opens her eyes and turns them -- well, up at him now. Makes a swipe at them because she can feel the tears still threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes as she looks into that familiar gold and finds herself pausing to search his face in that moment. He's hers, alright, but he looks different and not in those small, nearly imperceptible ways that arrive in minutes or an hour or two. He's grown. Gained inches in height and some sort of conditioner if the sheer vibrance of his hair is any indication. He's been loved and well by the sun, and... lost some muscle, she thinks, despite the healthy gain. He stands in stark contrast to that pale, muscular, sleep deprived boy for whom she'd screamed not even two hours ago. More and more she realizes and it doesn't make a lick of sense. She'd known there would be things that didn't when she'd heard about the general store, but this -- ]
Ed.
[ Her voice is hoarse when she finds it again and like so much water. Gloved fingers find his left hand and ask in threading because even though she can breathe and she knows, she hadn't been ready to let go just yet. She knows, but she wants to hold onto that feeling, that sensation for a little while longer. ]
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She opens her eyes and turns them -- well, up at him now. Makes a swipe at them because she can feel the tears still threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes as she looks into that familiar gold and finds herself pausing to search his face in that moment. He's hers, alright, but he looks different and not in those small, nearly imperceptible ways that arrive in minutes or an hour or two. He's grown. Gained inches in height and some sort of conditioner if the sheer vibrance of his hair is any indication. He's been loved and well by the sun, and... lost some muscle, she thinks, despite the healthy gain. He stands in stark contrast to that pale, muscular, sleep deprived boy for whom she'd screamed not even two hours ago. More and more she realizes and it doesn't make a lick of sense. She'd known there would be things that didn't when she'd heard about the general store, but this -- ]
Ed.
[ Her voice is hoarse when she finds it again and like so much water. Gloved fingers find his left hand and ask in threading because even though she can breathe and she knows, she hadn't been ready to let go just yet. She knows, but she wants to hold onto that feeling, that sensation for a little while longer. ]
What's going on? I-I thought I'd lost you.