Reaches out to hold his hand, is she looking at him? No, her eyes are elsewhere but she's more than aware of her surroundings. Jade's never been anything less than confident, but here, holding his hand has an itch of uncertainty. Like he'll pull away any minute and she'll make some dumb joke like they always do. But she still does, hand slipping into his, careful to mind her claws. // narcocism @ dave fuckimy cries
@narcocism
Dave doesn’t turn to face her. No matter how much he wants to.
He knows the shades hide his expression. He knows she can read him anyway.
So it’s easier like this. For the both of them. Or so he tells himself.
He considers pulling away, feels that instinctive discomfort that comes from unexpected contact. But he doesn’t move, pushes the urge down with an iron tight control of his own body and reactions. It had been... difficult getting used to soft touches, and sometimes he still struggled with it to be honest. But he was getting better. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to let his friends in. Let people be close. It was hard. Everything always is.
He wants to say something, but doesn’t know if he should. And if he did, what would he say? So he says nothing. Instead he focuses on this crawling itch on his arms, and the warm writhing in his stomach. His hands and feet are so cold, but at least his palms aren’t sweaty. His focused on unclenching his jaw and loosening the gnash of his teeth.
He forces relaxation to weave itself through his muscles with a slow steady sigh. Jade’s hand is warm where it holds his. Grounding him. He hadn’t realized he’d been gone. Twisting his wrist, he entangles his fingers with hers.
Thank you.
