#lookacellist

Holding hands

His favorite season is winter. Cold, dark, crisp; there wasn’t a season that suited him more than this. Frosty air bit his slender fingers that remained unshielded from the elements as the two sat on a bench on Central Park’s main path. Bare branches sported bright leaves, like orange freckles against the darkening sky. Beside him Maya fidgeted. Her fingers tried to pull down her sleeves to cover her hands in a fruitless attempt at keeping warm. Mathias’s hand— trembling with cold and nerves— slid from his knee to take hers.

His eyes narrow with the wince and he sneers at the open wound that grins back at him in the palm of his hand. He tells himself he should have looked instead of reached into the dishwasher so quickly. The cutlery and porcelain had been jostled around from the cycle and a plate had not made it through the debacle. Mathias continued to say nothing as Maya ran the tap over his cut.

He’s always been used to staying quiet in the presence of others when he was hurt. It was just the way he had always been, complaining about pain wasn’t something that he could bring himself to do. No. Especially not when he was usually inflicting it onto others on the nights when the sinner in him begged to be set loose.

It’s not a question of whether or not he wanted to as much as the question of whether she would allow him. Obviously with attractions to individuals like the famed Captain America, he was not her type by any means. Today she sat at his side, poised elbows at her sides and a book in from of her face; she would never see it coming. And so it went like this: a hand pushed the book down and he swooped in quickly, tilting his face to avoid mushing her nose against his.

It was quick. Feather light. He wasn’t so sure it could even count for anything. Mathias hovered over her mouth before pulling away.

Mmmmmmm.

[ Have they crossed that bridge yet? Was that ever a discussion they had, a question one of them asked? Frankly, he can't remember. ]

Mmmaybe? I don't know?

have they shredded your clothes while you were still in them before

Mmh, Gwendolyn does a good job of destroying fabric like clothes and drapery and the like. The kittens used to get stuck on the carpet so I had to tear it all up and put in hardwood floors instead.

… No. /I/ think it is the transit and its inability to drive through construction sites. The lady is always right and therefore your argument is invalid.

You sure of that?