But it can be. (It will be, he thinks, even if there are moments when it feels as if he can give her nothing but this wrenching, raw bit of truth that he's kept clamped behind his teeth for so long.) Ellis has been telling himself for such a long time now that it is enough to have this: Wysteria's voice bright in his ear and her arm linked through his as they walk together. This is closeness enough.
"Aye, it is good," is not untrue. It is good to have a companion. It is good to be returned to her. Ellis is aware of the incongruity between now and then, the state he existed in before he left and how impenetrable it seems to be to him now. How had he found his way to such a manner before?
His hand crosses his chest, so his fingers might find her wrist to touch lightly as they cross the street at a slant, angling towards a set of stairs.
"Will you read it aloud to me? When you find something long and unamusing and very sincere?"
no subject
But it can be. (It will be, he thinks, even if there are moments when it feels as if he can give her nothing but this wrenching, raw bit of truth that he's kept clamped behind his teeth for so long.) Ellis has been telling himself for such a long time now that it is enough to have this: Wysteria's voice bright in his ear and her arm linked through his as they walk together. This is closeness enough.
"Aye, it is good," is not untrue. It is good to have a companion. It is good to be returned to her. Ellis is aware of the incongruity between now and then, the state he existed in before he left and how impenetrable it seems to be to him now. How had he found his way to such a manner before?
His hand crosses his chest, so his fingers might find her wrist to touch lightly as they cross the street at a slant, angling towards a set of stairs.
"Will you read it aloud to me? When you find something long and unamusing and very sincere?"
Just this once, maybe.