Chapter Text
Come back and tell me why
I'm feelin' like I've missed you all this time
And meet me there tonight
And let me know that it's not all in my mind
-- everything has changed
She falls back on his unmade bed, pink-cheeked and laughing, the syllables half-airy, sibilant, before petering out into a hushed exhale. Outside, he can hear the patter of rain drops against the windowpane, a staccato beat almost drowned by the hum of the airconditioner. She looks at him then, the edges of her mouth curling up as she raises a pale arm into the air to beckon him closer — a lazy wave of her hand.
It’s the simplest thing to follow her lead and fall into her orbit as she arches off the bed just the slightest bit, her fingers catching the edge of his shirt. She pulls, tugging him down, and he falls, forearms catching himself on either side of her head. She’s warm beneath him, and his breath catches in his throat in an aborted murmur when the corners of her eyes crinkle and she smiles at him.
Something unfurls in his chest, warm, contented, a cat basking in the afternoon sun, sunflowers turning towards the light.
“Hi,” she whisper-murmurs, the breath passing from her lips to his as she delves her fingers into his hair and tugs him even closer, pressing a feather soft stroke against the corner of his mouth.
He tilts his head and fits his mouth over hers, chaste and decorous, drawing a breathy laugh from her that stutters on an exhale when he parts his lips and kisses her properly, tasting the powdered sugar on the tip of her tongue.
When he pulls back, her hand tightens on his hair; and he wonders if it’s possible to be drunk on the honeyed amber of her eyes, the small wrinkle on the bridge of her nose, when she frowns and says, “Again,” until there is nothing to do but fall into her orbit and be caught in her gravity — the star, his sun.
He tilts his head and presses a kiss to her cheek, brushing his knuckles along the line of her jaw, lower, down the column of her neck, fingers running across her clavicle, thumb coming to rest against the jut of bone, palm-to-sternum.
He exhales and touches his forehead to hers, closes his eyes — feels her breath on him.
Outside, the rain has stopped. The airconditioner hums. She breathes, and he exists purely for this moment, her chest against his, his heart hers.