( It's hard to explain how this feels, going from not having it for years, to suddenly having it again. Those few weeks they overlapped here before are a blur, a barely-there blip in an otherwise emotional eternity of vacancy. It's like he spent years without his lungs, and suddenly there they are, inhaling deeply to the tune of her lips pressing against his ear.
Holy Shit, he's a mess. He wants to cry all over again, and that's just... sad. That's just really sad, isn't it? When did he completely lose his entire grip over his feelings?
He takes her hand. Lets her help haul him up to his precarious one-legged balancing act — one he does not tempt fate on, and almost immediately pivots to a seated perch at the edge of the bed so he can start helping her move the stacks and stacks of books-
Well.
Moving is a strong word for... immediately getting distracted by looking at the titles. )
Wait, is that- how the hell did you get Jules Verne here?!
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Holy Shit, he's a mess. He wants to cry all over again, and that's just... sad. That's just really sad, isn't it? When did he completely lose his entire grip over his feelings?
He takes her hand. Lets her help haul him up to his precarious one-legged balancing act — one he does not tempt fate on, and almost immediately pivots to a seated perch at the edge of the bed so he can start helping her move the stacks and stacks of books-
Well.
Moving is a strong word for... immediately getting distracted by looking at the titles. )
Wait, is that- how the hell did you get Jules Verne here?!