rough touch
19. Your muse grabs my muse’s wrists.
( @jasonhwang. )
Hands shaking with an almost aggressive fervor, the tall blonde tried her best to focus on the other man’s voice. Inhale. Exhale. Easy as counting from one to two. She couldn’t hear much as to what he was saying, but it didn’t matter as much as the fact that he was simply there,alive. No monsters were to be found, and while blood from her most recent encounter only moments ago still covered the woman from head to toe, Jason was making quick work of wiping it away before dropping his hands to wrap around her wrists. Maybe it was a bit too rough, and maybe she flinched at even the softest of touches because of what it resurfaced, but his eyes spoke nothing but silent affirmations of safety. A tiny sigh broke her silence, the tears slowing from less of a flood and more of an occasional drop.
Finally his words broke through, steady and confident as ever. You’re going to be okay. She repeated his words over and over again like a silent prayer. You’re going to be okay. Each time felt like a tiny shove in the right direction. Muscles relaxing and breathing coming back to a steady rhythm, the blonde’s dainty hands pulled out of his grasp before gently resting them on top of his. “Thank you. I didn’t think nobody cared ‘bout me enough t’ risk their life or nothin’.”
