Date: 2019-01-30 05:51 am (UTC)
punchmeitssubtext: (Sincerely.)
The compliment brought his steps to a slow halt, as did the kiss--and he found himself reaching up to curl his hand around her shoulder, holding her gently in place so he could have a good long look at her.

For nearly forty years of his life he had lived life from the awkward vantage point of seeing everything but never being fully understood himself. Trauma had made him grow armor as broken skin grows scar tissue; he had learned to expect that most people would misinterpret him even if he was sincere with them. Day by day with Molly he had learned what it was like to be seen clearly, to trust that the vulnerable and damaged and ragged bits of himself were safe with another human being, to be told that, yes, he was capable of making someone happy.

And in a calm clear wave, like a reflected image appearing as ripples settled, he realized what the point was of church and a party.

He leaned down to kiss her again--slower, this time, lingering as the right words strung themselves slowly together in his mind.

"It's my pleasure, Molly," he murmured, as they parted. "I hope you know that."
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Molly Hooper

February 2024

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